Chapter 525: The New Teaching Assistant

“This is extremely dangerous, child. Since Professor Lupin is with you, don’t keep getting close to danger—”

Professor McGonagall spoke sternly to Wizard Sean, her tone making Harry flinch.

“But nonetheless, you did well, child.”

Professor McGonagall said, stepping closer to the young wizard and gently kissing his forehead.

Harry felt a sense of unreality, as if he were floating lightly in the air, watching everything he could not accept.

He began to wonder if Professor McGonagall was some kind of impostor.

Wizard Sean was equally stunned—he saw the worry and relief overflowing in Professor McGonagall’s eyes.

He looked down at his robes, the silver-edged fabric luxurious, also purchased for him by Professor McGonagall.

All along, the professor had restrained herself, doing her best to play her role, and sometimes they forgot she, too, was becoming an important part of a young wizard’s life for the first time.

She always held herself back, testing boundaries, but emotion is not always something that can be weighed.

“I’ll be careful.”

Wizard Sean said softly.

“That will be enough.”

Professor McGonagall gave a faint smile, then turned to Harry, who was still dazed.

“Professor Lupin said you were unwell on the train, Potter.”

“Oh… I… I…”

Seeing Professor McGonagall’s stern expression again, Harry mumbled nothing.

At that moment, a knock came at the door, and Madam Pomfrey hurried in.

“Where’s Potter? Is he well?”

She asked anxiously.

Harry snapped back to himself, realizing he must have blushed.

What had he just seen?

Oh, that was important, but it seemed he had other troubles.

Namely, he had apparently fainted on the train.

Whether he fainted or something else, it was bad enough—but now, seeing Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey so alarmed, he felt even more embarrassed.

“I’m fine.”

He said,

“I don’t need anything—”

“Oh, Potter!”

Madam Pomfrey ignored him, leaning close to examine him carefully,

“I suppose you were up to something dangerous again?”

“It was the Dementors, Poppy.”

Professor McGonagall said.

They exchanged a grave look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly like a hen.

“Sending Dementors to guard the school,”

she muttered, pushing Harry’s hair back and pressing her hand to his forehead,

“He won’t be the first to faint.

Yes, he’s cold and damp. They’re dreadful creatures—their effect on those already vulnerable—”

“I’m not vulnerable!”

Harry snapped.

“Of course you’re not vulnerable.”

Madam Pomfrey said absently, now feeling his pulse.

“What does he need?”

Professor McGonagall asked bluntly,

“Bed rest? Should he stay overnight in the infirmary?”

“I’m fine!”

Harry said, standing up.

The thought of being confined to the infirmary and what Draco Malfoy would say made him unbearable.

“Well, at least he should eat some chocolate.”

Madam Pomfrey said, now studying Harry’s eyes.

“I’ve already eaten some,”

Harry said,

“Professor Lupin gave us some. He shared chocolate with all of us.

And Wizard Sean gave me his pumpkin pie.”

“Green, you’re here too?”

Madam Pomfrey said approvingly,

“That’s good—you always make things easy.

Even more pleasing, we finally have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows how to treat the symptoms.”

“Are you truly feeling alright, Potter?”

Professor McGonagall asked sternly.

“Yes.”

Harry said.

“Good. Wait outside for a moment. I need to speak with Wizard Sean… Mr. Green, then we’ll go down together for the feast.”

Professor McGonagall said.

The door closed.

Wizard Sean met Professor McGonagall’s stern yet gentle gaze.

“He’s the shopkeeper at your bookstore?”

Professor McGonagall asked.

“Yes, Professor.”

Wizard Sean said.

“Lupin is indeed a capable wizard, but you’d best keep your distance from him.”

Professor McGonagall mused.

Wizard Sean never asked why—only nodded.

“Go to the feast, child.”

Professor McGonagall always found satisfaction in this.

The Great Hall was a sea of pointed black hats; every long house table was filled with students, their faces lit by thousands of floating candles.

Professor Flitwick, a small wizard with a head of white hair, walked out of the hall carrying an ancient-looking hat and a three-legged stool.

“Oh,”

Harry said to Wizard Sean as he returned to their table,

“We missed the Sorting Ceremony.”

“What happened?”

Justin appeared, sitting down beside them.

This was Ravenclaw’s table.

“Yeah.”

Hermione appeared too.

They looked curious, and before Wizard Sean could explain, Headmaster Dumbledore stood to speak.

“Welcome!”

Dumbledore said, candlelight glinting on his beard,

“Welcome back to Hogwarts! I have a few things to tell you all, one of which is very important, so I think it best to say it clearly before you enjoy your feast and your minds grow fuzzy…”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued:

“Our school currently has several Dementors from Azkaban stationed here—they have been sent by the Ministry of Magic to carry out their duties, which I assume you already know, as they searched the Hogwarts Express.”

He paused.

Wizard Sean knew Dumbledore had originally opposed the Ministry’s decision to station Dementors at the school.

Yet Headmaster Dumbledore always followed the Ministry’s rules—though in truth, he could have refused outright.

Sometimes Wizard Sean thought this was because the Headmaster was certain he had the strength to bear the consequences.

But for the young wizards, this was hardly good news.

“They are stationed at every entrance to the school,”

Dumbledore continued,

“I must make it clear: while they are here, no one is permitted to leave the school without authorization. No trick, charm, or disguise will fool the Dementors—not even an Invisibility Cloak.”

He added lightly,

The Dementors’ nature does not understand excuses or pleas. Therefore, I remind all of you not to give them any reason to harm you.

I expect the prefects and our newly elected student council president and vice president to ensure no student comes into conflict with the Dementors.

Dumbledore paused again, his expression grave as he surveyed the Great Hall; not a single person moved or made a sound.

“Let us turn to a more cheerful topic,”

he continued,

“I am pleased to welcome three new faculty members this term to our ranks.

First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly agreed to fill the vacancy in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

A few lukewarm, scattered claps echoed through the Great Hall.

Only those who had shared a compartment with Professor Lupin on the train clapped enthusiastically—Wizard Sean saw Jia Jia Siting nearly clapping his hands off.

“As for our second new teacher,”

Dumbledore waited until the sparse applause for Lupin had subsided, then continued,

“Oh yes, let him come forward… So, Mr. Green, our beloved Potions teaching assistant, I’m afraid you can no longer sit among your fellow students today…”

Dumbledore winked mischievously.

Wizard Sean had not anticipated this announcement; he rose in silence and walked toward the head table.

As he moved, the Great Hall shifted from silence to frenzy.

Ravenclaw students clapped wildly; Hufflepuff matched them, and the combined applause nearly tore the ceiling off.

At the Gryffindor table, Fred and George nearly stood to clap; Fred winked at George, who spotted a group of Slytherins clapping with restrained politeness.

“Oh, quite splendid, isn’t it? Mr. Green’s abilities have been plain for all to see; Professor Snape and I both trust him to excel in this role.

The position may not be particularly glamorous, but naturally, all greatness begins with a small step.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he watched the young wizard approach the two empty seats.

The first seat was next to Professor Lupin, who gazed at him expectantly;

the second was beside Professor Snape, who glared fiercely at Lupin.