Professor Flitwick exclaimed in surprise, "Ah? This storyline feels familiar…Wasn't it just like this during the Chamber of Secrets incident? First, they got you and me away from Hogwarts, then tied up Severus and Minerva, and finally took the opportunity to infiltrate… But would they really use the same method again?"
"Don't forget, Filius," Dumbledore said, spreading his hands, "the only reason we've been able to learn all of this in advance is thanks to Edward's divination. But what if there was no divination?"
"If that were the case," he continued, "we'd be completely in the dark. We wouldn't know that the goblins and Death Eaters have formed an alliance, wouldn't suspect that they might attack Hogwarts. By the time the election day arrives, everything would take us by surprise."
Professor Flitwick had a sudden realisation. "Oh, right. Then…maybe I should consider pursuing a path that includes divination myself?"
Dumbledore looked meaningfully at Edward and sighed, "Times have changed."
He repeated again, this time looking directly at Edward, "Yes, the times have truly changed."
———
Over the next two days, Hogwarts appeared to have returned to its usual calm on the surface. In truth, the professors were all quietly preparing for the impending crisis.
Every morning, Edward would perform a divination upon waking to ensure that nothing unusual had occurred. Then, with Dumbledore's help, he would use Portkeys and Fawkes the phoenix's Apparition to travel to distant regions and gather records. Coupled with draining his spirituality before bed each night to further his potion digestion, the progress on digesting the Scribe potion had passed the halfway mark.
If he could maintain this high-frequency recordkeeping, then by the time he returned to the world of the Lord of the Mysteries, the Scribe potion should be fully digested.
As the potion digestion progressed, Edward's ability to record supernatural powers also increased: the number of demigod-level abilities he could record rose from one to three, and the number of abilities below demigod level nearly doubled.
———
On Friday morning, just as Edward was about to leave after teaching a Transfiguration class to third-year Slytherins and Gryffindors, Emily Larsson from Durmstrang trotted over to him.
"Professor Edward!"
Edward stopped and turned to her. "What is it, Miss Larsson?"
She looked a little uneasy. "I've been sneaking into the third-year class every time…You're not mad at me, are you?"
"Er…of course not," Edward replied. "But as a sixth-year student, there really isn't much you can learn from a third-year Transfiguration class. It's kind of a waste of your time, don't you think?"
Emily pressed her lips together. "But I asked you to teach me directly, and you refused."
"…Mainly because I don't have the time," Edward said with a helpless shrug. "These days, aside from teaching Transfiguration, I'm rarely at Hogwarts. You've probably noticed that, right?"
She immediately looked curious. "Where have you been going?"
"For fieldwork—for my travel journal. I go wherever there are unique customs and rich mythologies. Just yesterday, I was at Durmstrang."
Edward pulled out his journal and flipped it open. "Your school has a long history too. I recorded an entire notebook's worth of cultural traditions and legends. By the way, I didn't expect Durmstrang to still hold onto some Viking traditions."
Emily pressed her lips together again and said, "You could've just asked me about all that, you know."
"If I don't witness it myself, all I'd be recording is hollow words," Edward said earnestly. "That goes against the whole purpose of my travel journal." Then he cleared his throat and added, "Ahem, well then, Miss Larsson, if there's nothing else, I'll be on my way."
Just as he turned to leave, Emily suddenly grabbed his sleeve. Her tone was earnest, her eyes pleading, and her lips trembled slightly as she asked, "Professor…can't you really help me?"
Edward froze, then thought for a moment before saying, "If you encounter specific difficulties in your studies, feel free to come find me. I'll do my best to help."
She remained silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled. "Then…could you lend me your old Transfiguration textbooks or notes from when you were a student?"
"Uh…I'm afraid I don't have any."
The core of Transfiguration was belief and emotion—or at least, that was what had helped Edward master the subject. But how could something like that be captured in notes?
"I see. Thank you anyway, Professor."
She gave him a bow and turned to leave.
"Ha! HAHAHA!!"
Just then, two figures squeezed in from either side of Edward—it was the Weasley twins.
"We saw that, you know! You were getting cosy with a Durmstrang girl!"
"How could you do this to Audrey, huh?"
Edward shook them off. "She's a student asking me a question. What do you want me to do, ignore her? That'd be terribly rude."
"Classic excuse of a playboy!"
"King of the sea, master of lies!"
"Alright, alright—what do you two want from me?"
Each of them took out a handful of Galleons and handed them to him. "Paying you back."
Edward blinked, then suddenly recalled the prank supply store incident in Hogsmeade the previous Saturday. He didn't stand on ceremony, took the money, and asked, "Where'd you two get that much money in such a short time?"
"Hey, come on," said one of the twins. "We never buy prank items just for fun—they're for research and development! So we can improve them and eventually create our own brand of mischief gear."
"This time, we got lucky," the other added. "A few of our new prototypes performed amazingly well—especially the latest long-range tracking-enhanced dungbomb. Demand is through the roof."
Edward raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Why else?" the twins grinned. "They're perfect for dealing with those disgusting Dementors!"
"You know, Dementors don't see—they smell. They can sniff out human emotions. Now imagine what happens when they get slammed with a dungbomb…"
"..."
Edward couldn't help but give them a thumbs-up. "You two are geniuses."
"Barely qualified!"
"Mediocre at best~"
As they were chatting, they suddenly noticed a group of kids running outside the castle, dungbombs in hand.
"They're coming! Throw them now!"
"Quick!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Plumes of foul-smelling smoke erupted as the dungbombs exploded. The Dementors shrieked and lifted into the air in retreat, but the smell clung to them stubbornly, no matter how far they flew.
Even the Aurors assigned to manage the Dementors were hit hard—retching as they stumbled away.
"I can't do this anymore—urp! This job is killing me!"
"Why do these things stink so much worse than when we were in school?"
"I'm filing for leave—ugh!"
Edward stared, dumbfounded. These new dungbombs were practically as effective as a Patronus Charm!
Tsk. The Weasley twins really shouldn't confine themselves to prank gear. If they applied their talents to real combat magic…the possibilities were terrifying.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
A shrill voice pierced the air. Dolores Umbridge, clad in her usual bubblegum-pink outfit, stormed out, her face twisted in rage.
"You are attacking Ministry officials in broad daylight! Do you want to be hauled into court and sent to Azkaban?! Stop right there!"
"I want every one of you to write a full confession!"
One student shouted, "Don't let the Toad catch us! I got detention yesterday, and I still can't straighten my arm!"
"Yeah! It has to be some kind of dark curse! Quick, throw the rest of the dungbombs—at her!"
"Fire!"
In the next second, dozens of dungbombs flew at Umbridge from all directions, engulfing her in a storm of stench and brown haze.
"You dare attack…cough...a Ministry…gag...official—UURRK!"
Words failed her. The overwhelming stench slammed into her senses, causing her knees to buckle. She collapsed onto the ground, frantically crawling, trying to escape the noxious cloud.
Just then, a familiar voice to Edward rang out, full of theatrical concern.
"Professor Umbridge is going to suffocate! Quick, someone cast a spell! Aguamenti!"
A stream of water shot forth.
The surrounding students all followed suit, firing jets of water at the collapsed toad-like woman.
By the time she dragged herself out of the blast zone, her pink coat was drenched in brown slime, and she reeked worse than ever.
"...Aaaah! Run! It's too vile!"
The crowd of students scattered in horror, leaving Umbridge sprawled alone in the muck, eyes rolled back as she fainted in a puddle of sewage.
Edward glanced at the twins. "That voice just now…wasn't that Cedric?"
———
By lunchtime, the incident had spread like wildfire throughout the school. The fact that Umbridge had been KO'd by a swarm of dungbombs and left unconscious in a pool of filth had students buzzing with excitement—especially those who despised her.
Ideas were already brewing in mischievous minds.
The Weasley twins? They were swamped. The flood of new orders nearly buried them alive—so many that even if they worked non-stop for a month without eating or sleeping, they still couldn't fulfil them all.
"That was so satisfying, Harry. I went out just to take a look, and the scene was…" Ron beamed.
Hermione stuffed a chicken leg in his mouth. "Shut up."
With a muffled voice, Ron still mumbled proudly, "You know, I played a part in all this too!"
"Oh yeah? What part?"
"When George and Fred were first testing the new dungbombs, they used mine as prototypes!"
Was that really something to brag about?
The twins froze. Then, wordlessly, each shuffled away from him in opposite directions.
Ron, oblivious, kept boasting to himself.
Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy sat glumly, a deep frown creasing his face. One hand fiddled in his pocket with something, while the other repeatedly picked up and set down his fork.
Finally, under the confused stares of Crabbe and Goyle, he stood up and marched over to where Edward and Audrey were having lunch. He pulled out an envelope and shoved it at her.
"For you!"
"???"
Audrey blinked, stunned. "Malfoy…what is this?"
All around them, students perked up, eyes lighting up with gossip-hungry anticipation.
No way—was Malfoy, after being lectured by Audrey every other day, suddenly developing Stockholm Syndrome? Was that…a love letter?
Oh, this was juicy.
Caught in spectator mode, Audrey could clearly read Malfoy's emotions: confusion, anxiety, irritation.
Definitely not the kind of feelings you'd have when confessing your love.
More and more heads turned toward them. Dozens of eyes flicked between Edward and Malfoy, eager to watch the drama unfold.
Edward narrowed his eyes, his fingers tightening slightly in Lilith's fur.
Well, well.
That's our Malfoy for you.
Bold as ever.
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.