bdsm-fiction Chapter 99 Expelling the Peeves
Chapter 99 Expelling the Peeves
Chapter 99 Expelling the Peeves
Lucas opened his eyes.
What comes into view is the familiar, high stone ceiling.
Hogwarts Hospital.
He felt like he was having a very long dream, running wildly down a dark corridor, with deafening barking in his ears.
Memories flooded back into his brain like a tidal wave, and he sat up abruptly.
"Ellie!"
With each movement, his bones cracked and popped, like a rusty machine starting up again, and his muscles ached and stiffened. Clearly, he had been lying there for a long time.
"Lucas! You're awake?"
A weak but delighted voice came from beside me.
Ellie!
Lucas felt a sense of relief. Ignoring his sore muscles, he jumped off the hospital bed and ran barefoot to the next bed.
Pale-faced Ellie was leaning against the pillows, a white bandage wrapped around one of her shoulders, and a faint, pungent medicinal smell lingered in the air. But when she saw Lucas, her purple eyes immediately lit up.
"How are you feeling? Does your shoulder still hurt?" Lucas asked anxiously.
"Oh, thank you, Merlin, you're finally awake!"
Before Ellie could answer, the door to the ward was pushed open. Mrs. Pomfrey strode in, carrying a bottle of bubbling medicine.
"Mr. McGregor, if I remember correctly, I warned you to behave yourself over the summer," Mrs. Pomfrey said sternly. "And what happened? On the first day of school! You're back here again!"
But the next moment she sighed helplessly: "Of course, I know this is not your fault at all. But you've set two records in a row, being admitted during summer vacation and on the first day of school. I'm really worried about your future at Hogwarts."
Lucas chuckled awkwardly. "I'll be careful, Mrs. Pomfrey. Thank you for saving me again. By the way, how's Ellie's injury?"
"You'll have to ask your headmaster! What was he thinking, letting a three-headed dog into the school! He's completely lost his mind!" Mrs. Pomfrey said angrily.
She directly rebuked Dumbledore, much to Lucas's surprise. Then, Madam Pomfrey came to Ellie's bedside, bent down to examine her carefully: "The Cerberus's claws were infused with violent magical power and a large amount of deadly germs. It took me three whole days to clean those filthy things off! Now her wounds are mostly healed; she just needs to rest for two more days and drink some blood-replenishing potions to regain her lost blood."
Lucas breathed a long sigh of relief.
"Don't just think about others, how do you feel yourself?" Mrs. Pomfrey turned her head, her sharp gaze sweeping over Lucas from head to toe, then staring at his bare feet.
"This level of magical burst has severely depleted your body and mind. Do you know you were unconscious for five whole days? If it were an ordinary junior wizard, they would have collapsed when they unleashed a spell. Fortunately, you have a strong foundation, and after these few days of potion treatment, you should have fully recovered."
"Five days?!" Lucas exclaimed in surprise. He looked out the window; it was pitch black outside, and it was the dead of night.
"Otherwise what?" Mrs. Pomfrey said irritably. "Be thankful, five days is already quite short."
Lucas sat back on the bed with gratitude. He could feel that he was in good physical and mental condition, but he was a little stiff from lying down for so long.
"Thank you, Mrs. Pomfrey, for the trouble these past five days..."
Mrs. Pomfrey was both amused and annoyed: "Come on, you think these past five days have just been about taking care of you and Ellie? Do you know you've practically brought in the entire first year of Gryffindor?"
"That pot of soup you cooked, after being stolen by Mischievous Ghost, ended up in the hands of those reckless kids. They each got a sip, and now they're sleeping like logs. It's like they drank the water of death!"
"I had to give them strong stimulants one by one to wake them up. Fortunately, apart from oversleeping and missing two days of classes, they didn't suffer any real physical damage."
"Tell me, how much trouble have you caused me?"
"Huh?" Lucas was completely dumbfounded.
I, a soothing potion brewed by Hufflepuff, eventually wiped out all the first-year Gryffindor students?
"Alright, Bobby, we can't blame him. After all, the real culprits are Peeves and me, this old senile fool."
A gentle voice sounded at the door of the ward.
Dumbledore stood there quietly, his deep blue eyes looking apologetically at the two children through his half-moon spectacles.
"Professor Dumbledore," Lucas stood up.
"Sit down, Lucas."
Dumbledore came in and sat down beside Lucas's bed.
Lucas blinked. Hmm, why does this scene feel so familiar?
"Bobby, may I talk to the two kids?"
"Albus, he just woke up! Ellie needs rest too!" Madam Pomfrey stood with her hands on her hips like a protective mother hen, but seeing Dumbledore's insistent gaze, she could only say, "You only have thirty minutes."
After saying that, she turned around and went back to her office in a huff.
Dumbledore's expression became more serious and solemn than ever before.
"Lucas, Ellie," he bowed his head, "I must offer you my deepest apologies."
"That three-headed dog was placed in the room at the end of the corridor on the fourth floor by me to carry out a highly classified mission."
I thought I could control everything and there would be no danger, but it turns out I was too arrogant and overconfident—I underestimated the possibility of accidents.
Dumbledore's voice was heavy: "If something really happens to you two because of this, it will be a heavy blow to both families and to the entire Hogwarts. It is unforgivable that I made such a mistake on such an important matter."
"Professor, you don't need to do this." Lucas shook his head. "I believe you. You must have your reasons and judgment for keeping Cerberus there. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't hurt the students, but we were tricked by Peeves, so he should bear the main responsibility."
"Peeves has paid the price for his actions," Dumbledore sighed. "For nearly killing two students and stealing your potion, which caused many students to fall into a coma, he has been given the most severe punishment—expelled from Hogwarts Castle."
"Kicked out?" Ellie gasped in surprise.
"Yes, but he's different from ordinary ghosts. Peeves is a poltergeist, or a troublemaker, a manifestation of the negative emotions of teachers and students at Hogwarts over thousands of years," Dumbledore explained. "If you banish him, he disappears. But as long as the castle stands and the students remain, it won't be long before he re-forms somewhere."
"By then, he will no longer have his previous memories, but his mischievous nature is hard to change. Hopefully, when he reappears, he won't make any more serious mistakes."
Dumbledore continued, "As for the other people responsible for this incident... I have severely criticized Mr. Filch. He is too harsh on the students and always uses corporal punishment to intimidate the new students. Otherwise, you would not have chosen to enter that room."
"The three-headed dog has been removed from the room, and I assure you that we will never again place any dangerous creatures in areas where students might come into contact with them."
"As for Professor Snape—" Dumbledore said, "Although your potion went awry, it wasn't your intention. Expelling you from class was highly inappropriate and was the reason you were deceived by Peeves. I have already criticized his inappropriate actions."
"Once you've recovered, go back to your Potions classes as usual. He won't make things difficult for you."
Hearing this, Lucas and Ellie both breathed a sigh of relief.
Lucas finally had a chance to ask the question that had been bothering him: "Professor, regarding the potion, I clearly followed the steps on the blackboard to brew the soothing potion, so why did it end up as a pot of soup? And why did it taste and have completely different effects?"
Dumbledore smiled.
"Lucas, what do you think magic is?"
"Many people mistakenly believe that magic is simply waving wands and chanting spells. Then why is potion-making, which doesn't use wands or spells, also a form of magic? Why is it that if a Muggle takes magical ingredients and follows the exact steps in a book to brew a pot of magic, they might end up with nothing but a pot of useless waste?"
Lucas seemed thoughtful, then slowly said, "Because of the existence of magic, right? Magic is the qualification to become a wizard, the innate talent of a wizard. Magic is the process by which wizards, with the help of magic, turn their will, emotions, and desires into reality."
Dumbledore nodded approvingly: "I couldn't have summarized it more succinctly, Lucas. If this were in class, I would give you ten points."
"When brewing potions, the wizard's will is stirred by the magic and poured into the cauldron. This is the catalyst that makes the potion effective."
Lucas and Ellie listened intently, for even a few words of guidance from the greatest wizard and the most powerful legend were invaluable.
"And you, Lucas. I'm afraid your understanding of cooking is so deeply ingrained in your soul that when you handle those ingredients, you don't subconsciously treat it as a pot of medicine, but rather as a cooking process. You cook it from the bottom of your heart, and I even bet you subconsciously smell the aroma of the soup, as if the pot of soup had already appeared before your eyes."
Lucas smiled, and Dumbledore pointed to his heart: "This is the most important thing about magic, the power of the heart. When you wholeheartedly and unreservedly believe that you can do something, or believe that you have already done something, magic will respond to your call."
"Following the correct steps, your will forcibly altered the magical reaction of the potion, causing it to mutate. The taste suited your imagination, but the potion's effects became chaotic and uncontrollable due to this forced distortion, ultimately transforming it from a soothing potion into a potent sedative."
"I also need to remind you that this kind of distortion and change is chaotic. That is to say, this time it becomes a sleeping pill or a potion of life and death, but next time you don't know what it will become. So you can't replicate this kind of change."
Lucas nodded, thinking with lingering fear that thankfully it had only turned into a sleeping pill this time; if it had turned into some kind of deadly poison, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
Turning around, many of the previous confusions were easily resolved.
For example, it was strange before that after he made "chrysanthemum chicken soup" and the Daily Prophet reported on it in detail and posted photos, many wizards were unable to use magic to simulate such knife skills. Even the food charms used by Hufflepuff in the Hogwarts kitchen could not replicate it.
This is because the wizards who tried to do this simply did not understand what ultimate knife skills were, could not imagine the feeling of the blade flowing between their fingers, and could not comprehend the level of skill of a master butcher.
They tried to imitate, but how could they wholeheartedly and unreservedly believe they could do something they didn't even understand themselves? So their magic naturally failed to achieve the desired effect.
As for Lucas himself, once he learns the magic of controlling knives from Hufflepuff's "Food Charm," he will naturally be able to use magic to achieve his perfect knife skills.
That said, if Lucas wants to train house-elves and other wizards to reach his level of knife skills in the future, he must solve this problem and make them truly understand the essence of knife skills.
"Of course, to completely distort a potion, pure willpower is one aspect, but sufficiently strong magic is another crucial element." Dumbledore gazed at Lucas with admiration, his eyes seemingly shining.
"Lucas, your magic is far stronger than that of your peers."
Through studying various books and Lily Evans' notes, Lucas had long understood that magic could not be quantified or represented by numbers. The "power" and "weakness" of magic, and the "high" and "low" levels of magic, referred more to differences in quality, or rather, magic as a "certificate," similar to the difference between a beginner's certificate, an intermediate certificate, and an advanced certificate.
But Professor Dumbledore said that my magical abilities are higher than those of my peers? Or that I possess a higher level of qualification?
Lucas was both surprised and delighted, and was momentarily stunned.
Why is that? I'm just a Muggle-born wizard who only learned about magic a month ago.
"Indeed, Lucas, your magical abilities are excellent." Dumbledore smiled. "This has already been proven with Cerberus. The professor who rushed in to save you told me that you used a full-body binding charm to immobilize Cerberus."
"Although it was only frozen for three seconds, it held out until the professor arrived, saving yourselves and creating a miracle."
"The three-headed dog, a mythical creature from hell, has extremely high magic resistance, second only to a fire dragon. Many adult wizards cannot immobilize it with a binding spell."
Lucas thought for a moment: "Professor, this must be the result of my magic erupting at the critical moment of life and death."
"Yes, magic bursts forth." Dumbledore's smile remained unchanged. "But bursts forth also require a foundation. Without an excellent foundation in magic, without an unwavering will, and without the determination to believe in oneself, nothing can burst forth."
"Ordinary wizards can only close their eyes and wait for death when faced with dire circumstances. If everyone could unleash their magic, how could there be so many tragic accidents?"
"Magic burst, that's a term reserved for geniuses."
Ellie perked up, her face flushing: "Lucas, Professor Dumbledore said you're a genius."
Lucas smiled sheepishly. "I always thought I was good at cooking, but it turns out I have a knack for being a wizard too?"
Dumbledore continued, "Based on the strength of that spell, your normal magical level before the outburst should have reached the standard of a third or fourth-year student, which is equivalent to the state of an ordinary wizard at fourteen or fifteen years old, not far from the level of a seventeen-year-old adult."
1>