A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Fear? Well, perhaps a bit... but more so, it's curiosity. Felix couldn't fathom why he couldn't escape a Killing Curse. In that memory, the curse's green light was released directly, no element of surprise. And yet, when he thought about his reaction in that memory—

Remarkably composed.

Would he truly accept death so calmly? That intrigued him.

Valen, his Niffler pet, gently tugged at his clothing. Felix lowered his head, smiling. "It's probably just a prank," he said. He walked into the bedroom, placed Valen in his crib, then returned to the office.

The little box that held the "Memory of Death" lay silently on the desk. Felix meticulously examined it, pulled out some packing paper, and retrieved a postcard. The front featured a scenic depiction of Big Ben with an inscription: "Everyone has the right to choose."

It was an ordinary card, easily surmised by Felix, perhaps from a Muggle newsstand? Flipping it over, the back was blank.

Who could have sent this? Was it really a vile prank?

Yet, within that sentence, Felix detected a trace of goodwill. And when it came to matters of life and death, no one would be careless, at least not him.

For now, he entertained the idea that someone had witnessed his death and risked traveling back to warn him.

At that moment, the golden clock pointed to eleven. Felix placed the golden clock on a small table in front of the couch along with the postcard. Then, with a gentle wave of his finger, all items capable of communication were arranged on the table.

Leaning against the sofa's backrest, Felix resembled a silent statue, occasionally glancing at the golden clock. Time passed slowly, midnight came and went, yet no one reached out to him. In the serene night, the occasional chirping of insects was the only sound. No sudden appearance disrupted the tranquility, no summons to an unknown battlefield.

When the clock's hands settled at four in the morning, he finally stirred. Five hours had passed since receiving this peculiar gift. Felix knew what this meant—the maximum duration for time travel without causing significant damage was approximately five hours.

Someone had embarked on an extensive journey through time!

Lifting his head, Felix stared at the ceiling. The magical lamp's white light wasn't glaring, but it left him slightly dizzy. Slowly closing his eyes, he found himself the next second seated in the bronze armchair of the thought chamber.

Felix still clutched that memory, tossing it once more into the air. The familiar scene materialized, until—

"Avada Kedavra!"

The voice, cold and sharp, was unmistakably Voldemort's.

"So, this is a warning from an uncertain time in the future when Voldemort has returned," Felix muttered. He stared at the repeating scene. It was clear the memory had been tampered with, hiding the owner's perspective, but the technique was rudimentary. For someone like Felix, a memory expert, the flaws were evident.

However, recognizing the flaws didn't mean he could reconstruct the true memory or confirm its authenticity.

What Felix could ascertain was that the memory's owner wanted to remain anonymous, was meticulous, and was familiar with memory magic. What more could he deduce? Felix pondered, "Of course, the perspective is crucial."

Leg draped over leg, he sat on the bronze chair, observing the illusory images below. Except for the chair and the stairs, the thought chamber was empty, resembling a vast square.

The square echoed Voldemort's incantation of the Killing Curse.

"If Voldemort had indeed returned during that time, anyone witnessing this—did it mean they were a Death Eater? No, not necessarily... it could also be Voldemort's enemy."

Felix wanted to identify this person, gather more intelligence.

From the available information, this individual—whether male or female—must have had a close relationship with him, meticulous, possibly discussing memory magic together. Their identity had to be sufficiently unique to participate in a sudden battle, potentially a Death Eater, an Order member, or a possibility he hadn't considered yet. And most crucially, this person must possess a Time-Turner.

But by dawn, Felix was still puzzled: given that time was not an issue, why would this person risk such a perilous long-distance time travel?

Did they disregard their life? Or was there no alternative? What significance lay in such an action?

Felix's emotions were complex. If this was real, and he truly died at the hands of Voldemort—or at least that's what the memory sender believed—this action was akin to altering established history, inviting repercussions from time itself.

Changing known history was risky enough; he hadn't heard of anyone successfully manipulating it and walking away unscathed, let alone involving long-distance time travel.

Not rushing to a decision... Felix cautioned himself. He needed to confirm several things first.

On the early morning of June 22nd, Felix appeared in the Great Hall, awaiting a few individuals. When Snape, clad in black robes, arrived, Felix smiled slightly and shifted his seat next to Snape.

"You have a Time-Turner," Felix asserted confidently.

Snape stared at him expressionlessly for a moment. "Your jokes have worsened," he retorted coldly.

"I just wanted to lighten the mood, Severus," Felix shrugged.

Not him, Felix thought, observing Snape's departing figure.

The second person was Dumbledore. Felix consulted him about the "trick" Dumbledore used with his fingers to cast spells, wondering if it stemmed from abilities acquired after transformation.

"Have you finally reached this point, Felix?" Dumbledore asked softly. Lost in reminiscence, it took him a while to raise his head. Felix waited for his response. Dumbledore nodded gently, "What you call transformation or evolution towards 'magical creatures,' though worded differently, in my understanding, involves delving so deeply into a field that it becomes inexplicable. Then, a sudden flash of inspiration, a synthesis."

"Once you reach this stage, your magic begins to spontaneously adapt, matching your understanding of magic... as for what each person gains, it's likely linked to their field of study. My ability to flick spells essentially stems from a higher level of human transfiguration."

Felix suddenly understood.

Previously, Dumbledore had performed a profoundly profound transformation on his hand, simulating the abilities of a magical creature. A series of powerful creature names flashed through Felix's mind: dragons, sphinxes, chimeras, and more...

And it seemed that Dumbledore had the ability to challenge some of the magical world's norms. Wizards turning into magical creatures was deemed impossible, not even achievable by Animagi, yet Dumbledore had undoubtedly breached that territory.

Magical creatures... was that what it meant? Felix wondered.

He couldn't help but speculate about what abilities he might gain after completing his transformation, related to ancient magical languages. He began pondering the distinct traits of ancient languages, but providing a precise definition was challenging due to their vast diversity.

A realization struck him. Boundless transformations... applying that term to himself, wasn't it embodying ancient magical languages? This idea seemed to align with the scene in his memory—Voldemort casting the Killing Curse, him transforming with ancient languages to evade it.

Quite fascinating to consider.

Yet, new questions surfaced. If he wasn't meant to die at all, why would someone risk everything to alter that moment? Did they believe it was necessary, or had they simply wanted to protect him?

He had some puzzle pieces, but the picture was far from complete. The thought swirled around his mind like leaves caught in an autumn breeze, forming patterns that hinted at the larger truth.

>

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