From Today On, You Are Sir Cadogan!

Glenn didn't know much about the Philosopher's Stone.

Its creation dated back far too early—well over a hundred years, closer to six hundred.

But one must understand that even Isidora Morganach, the witch who once sparked the ancient magic turmoil, was only a figure from the fifteenth century.

And the Philosopher's Stone was born even earlier than that.

Given this, he decided he still needed to ask this Nicolas Flamel, informing him of the matter while also inquiring about his plans.

But that posed another problem: what to use for sending the letter?

Well... honestly, that question was a bit foolish.

Because in the wizarding world, witches and wizards used owls for this task, and they generally handled it beautifully.

But Glenn hadn't brought one.

To be precise, when he first arrived at school, he had indeed purchased an eagle owl for sending letters in Diagon Alley, and it was temporarily stored at Eeylops Owl Emporium.

And that's where the problem lay.

His eagle owl was still at Eeylops Owl Emporium...

Of course, Hogwarts had school owls available for use.

But Nicolas Flamel's residence was warded with some kind of magic—without a special mark added to the delivering owl, it couldn't find the correct delivery location.

Setting that up specifically for a school owl would take some effort, and in terms of security, it wasn't too kind to old man Flamel either.

So before that, he'd have to write a letter to Eeylops Owl Emporium, asking them to send his eagle owl to Hogwarts...

A small mistake, but oddly amusing.

No wonder the Flamels had specifically asked Dumbledore to inquire whether he'd return for Christmas...

After thinking it over, Glenn decided to swallow this matter and tell no one.

After tying the letter to the school owl, he went to the Room of Requirement to complete his daily routine of watering.

He also tossed the recently drawn "Invigorating Potion" into the portrait, letting his portrait self hand it over to Sir Cadogan for use.

But judging by the result—it seemed Sir Cadogan was about to be poisoned to death.

"Are you sure that's really an Invigorating Potion you drew? It doesn't look like it!"

"Villain! After beating someone until they can't move, you resort to poisoning... Where's your knightly honor?!" Sir Cadogan gritted his teeth, enduring the pain from being defeated by the portrait Glenn just moments ago, and forced himself to sit up from the ground through sheer willpower.

Admittedly, this knight possessed an extremely tenacious spirit.

"What did you give me to drink..." Sir Cadogan clutched his stomach, eyes wide and bloodshot, glaring as he spoke.

"Are you really going to kill him? This guy yells from this corridor every day. If we get rid of him, it'll definitely be noticed..." The portrait Glenn looked incredulously at his real-world counterpart.

To this, Glenn could only remain silent.

If he truly wanted to finish off Sir Cadogan, there were plenty of ways—a single Avada Kedavra would suffice. He had genuinely drawn it to look like an Invigorating Potion; as for poisons, he wasn't familiar.

"I have an empty frame here. Throw him in, and you'll be the new Sir Cadogan..."

Hearing this, even the portrait Glenn was shocked.

He had thought that the version of himself drawn by Ominis was already close to the original, but he never expected the real one to be even more devious.

"I think we can still try to save him... Levitation Charm." With a flick of the spell, Sir Cadogan landed on his pony.

"I recall there was a headmistress named Phyllida Spore who wrote One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. She should be able to treat this." The portrait Glenn led the pony away without looking back.

As for how to hide himself, he had his own methods.

He just hoped he wouldn't end up hung on the wall, shouting every day: "Come here, coward, and duel me!"

Holidays were always short.

And day after day of classes—the eternal theme of school, even at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Once the Christmas holiday passed, the professors made their grand return with their assignment demands.

The upright and impartial Professor McGonagall—equally demanding that all students successfully perform a Transfiguration spell turning a mouse into a snuffbox by the first day back.

Professor Snape, whose teaching was a mess but whose assignment standards were sky-high—requiring everyone to write a lengthy essay covering all potion characteristics and brewing processes from the start of term to now.

The witty and humorous Professor Flitwick, who never slacked in teaching—demanding that everyone master three spells, not necessarily to perfection, but they must be able to cast them at will.

Professor Binns, master of hypnosis—on the very first lesson, he immediately required everyone to write a timeline of magical history from the first chapter from memory.

Even Professor Quirrell, with his big eyes and usually timid, cowardly demeanor, went all out on assignments, piling on so much work that it nearly knocked the students breathless.

Perhaps to adults, this was nothing—they wouldn't get expelled, and they could always make it up later.

But to children of this age, it was downright terrifying.

At this moment, it didn't matter which house a student was from.

They were either in the common room or the library, frantically catching up on homework and practicing spells.

The most frantic of all was undoubtedly Malfoy.

Because not only did he have to finish his own homework, he also had to help Crabbe and Goyle finish theirs.

Given the intellectual level of his two lackeys, this was essentially no different from completing three assignments at once.

So much so that if you spent a while in the Slytherin Common Room, you could see Malfoy writing with two quills at once.

It was no exaggeration to say he even wished he could use his mouth...

Compared to most of his classmates, Glenn had far fewer worries.

First, in terms of spells, he basically knew them all, even better than the professors.

Second, he hadn't gone home over the holidays and spent his time soaking in the library.

Essays and such were basically finished as soon as they were assigned.

Otherwise, with Professor Snape's private lessons on top of everything, even he would have been sweating—after all, knowing practical application and writing a thesis are two different things. Even if your skill level was sky-high, you still had to slowly write it out with a quill.

On his way to the Underground Classroom, Glenn happened to run into another professor with an extremely strong odor.

Needless to say, no one else had a garlic smell that strong except Professor Quirrell.

However, he didn't seem to notice there were students behind him—more precisely, three students.

Besides Glenn, there was also a certain pair of Weasley twins.

As if to get revenge for the mountain of homework, they cast an auto-tracking charm on some snowballs, making them chase Quirrell around until they finally hit him right on the back of his turban—where the Back of the Head was.

When they turned around laughing, Glenn gave them a thumbs-up with a smile.

Seeing this, they were delighted, since a prank was always more valuable when someone witnessed it, so they returned the thumbs-up as a greeting.

But little did they know, that hit had twisted the red-eyed black wizard face on the back of Quirrell's head into a grimace.

If they had lingered a few more steps, the Weasley twins might have seen Quirrell turn around with a terrified expression, mixed with a strange, unfamiliar viciousness.

But the moment he saw Glenn, Professor Quirrell realized his loss of composure and reverted to his usual timid, fearful demeanor.

"Good evening, Mr. Howard."

"Good evening, Professor Quirrell." Glenn smiled kindly.