Griffiths's Farewell Ceremony

After borrowing the books, Wade continued asking questions. Professor Flitwick's books had already explained Charms in great detail, so all his questions concerned spells related to Defense Against the Dark Arts, such as the Shield Charm, Disarming Charm, Impediment Jinx, and so on.

Everyone knew the standard of Hogwarts's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Professor Flitwick did not tell him to consult Quirrell, instead answering his questions patiently and thoroughly before lending him several more books.

Wade was deeply grateful.

There was only one Magic School in all of Britain: Hogwarts. The professors were not assessed by KPIs, did not publicly compare pass rates or excellence rates, and certainly did not undergo year-end evaluations or performance rankings. The professors at the school truly taught according to their conscience. Some were conscientious and responsible, while others spent their days muddling through. There were even those who taught whatever they felt like teaching, utterly ignoring the fact that their students still had to take the Wizarding Level Exam.

After finishing his questions, Wade remembered Griffiths's request and asked, "Professor, a portrait has complained that his current location is too quiet. He wants me to help move him somewhere livelier, like the Entrance Hall. Would that be possible?"

Professor Flitwick asked, "Is it a portrait with an assigned duty?"

Some portraits at Hogwarts served as guards. The Fat Lady's portrait outside the Gryffindor Common Room, for instance, naturally could not be moved lightly.

Wade thought for a moment. "Probably not. He said he used to be in the Entrance Hall, but was moved to the Astronomy Tower later to make room for another portrait."

"Oh, oh, I know who you mean." Professor Flitwick smiled. "The main reason Griffiths was moved away was that many portraits complained he disturbed their sleep. He also encouraged Peeves to play pranks on Ministry of Magic officials visiting the school. The Headmaster and professors at the time believed he ought to be taught a lesson, so he was moved to the quietest place in the whole school."

"Then his request..." Wade asked tentatively.

"Liking lively places is hardly a crime." Professor Flitwick said tolerantly. "As long as he promises not to encourage Peeves to cause trouble everywhere again, go ahead and move him. But the Entrance Hall is probably out of the question. Many of the portraits there hold a grudge against Griffiths."

"Ah, fine, fine. But I really don't understand why they dislike pranks so much. Pranks can bring people a lot of joy!"

As Griffiths argued in his own defense, he darted rapidly back and forth between several nearby portraits—

"Hey, old man, I'm leaving—Shalom, if you write to me when you're not calculating, I'd be delighted, though I don't know whether I'll receive it—Barry, and dear Francisco, thank you for your hospitality. Here's a return gift!"

Holding Griffiths's portrait after taking it down, Wade watched helplessly as he turned the stargazing old man's telescope one hundred and eighty degrees, snatched the bespectacled Female Witch's quill and ink, then dumped the ink over one brat's head and stuffed the quill into another brat's nostril.

After provoking every portrait, he darted back into his own portrait and loudly urged Wade, "Go! Hurry up!"

But what did the portraits care about physical distance? Although Wade had already carried the portrait out of the corridor, the people in those portraits still chased into Griffiths's territory and pinned the red-haired wizard down for a beating.

The bespectacled Female Witch was furious for the first time. She kicked Griffiths hard and Screamed, "Do you know how long I spent calculating that? How long?!"

The brats seemed to have taken Griffiths for a trampoline, bouncing and jumping all over him while shouting loudly.

The stargazing old man caught up last and used all his strength to pound him twice. Then he seemed to have thrown out his back, and returned with a pained expression, clutching his waist.

Naturally, Wade could not interfere with the brawl inside the portraits. Once everyone had dispersed, he looked at Griffiths, who resembled a heap of mud, and asked helplessly, "You're leaving anyway, so why get yourself beaten up like this? What was the point?"

"Ha ha, you don't understand." With a footprint on his forehead, Griffiths rolled over and lay on the grass in the valley, laughing heartily. "Isn't this the best kind of farewell ceremony?"

Wade truly did not understand.

Griffiths folded his hands behind his head and looked at the sky. "I don't want to leave without a sound. They might take ages to realize—ah, that red-haired fellow seems to be gone. But I don't want farewells to involve sadness and tears either. We fool around and make a scene, and when it ends, everyone is happy. Isn't that wonderful?"

Wade considered it for a moment. "So... everyone got happiness, and only you got hurt. Is that it?"

Griffiths froze, then burst out laughing. "Wade, you understand humor after all!"

As he laughed, the chaotic scene within the portrait slowly returned to normal—the footprints on Griffiths vanished, his torn robes mended themselves, the trampled flowers and grass straightened up, and the broken branches on the trees grew back.

Only the bruises and swelling on his face had not entirely faded.

"Griffiths, you must have been a Gryffindor in person, right?" Wade asked as he hung the portrait on the wall.

"Of course! Isn't that obvious at a glance?" Griffiths clung to the frame and tried to look around. "What place is this?"

"You can't go back to the Entrance Hall. This is the main route from the Great Hall to the library. Almost every student passes through here every day, so it should meet your requirements," Wade said.

"Oh, not bad, not bad." Griffiths was very satisfied.

In the corridor, several portraits quietly observed this "newcomer," some of them gathering together to whisper among themselves.

Hermione happened to pass by carrying a stack of books, accompanied by two familiar people—Harry and Ron. They had probably just returned from the library and were arguing in low voices.

"I'd bet my Flying Broomstick that Snape was the one who let the troll in! He wants to steal whatever the Three-headed Dog is guarding," Harry said, holding his breath.

"No, he wouldn't!" Hermione said angrily. "You can't maliciously speculate about a professor like that!"

"Honestly, Hermione, you always think every teacher at this school is a saint!" Ron said impatiently. "But I told you—I! SAW! IT! When the troll appeared, I went looking for you two, and I saw Snape sneaking upstairs! Harry saw Snape's leg too. It had been bitten so badly it was dripping with blood. Why are you ignoring these facts? Just because he's a professor, you believe him?"

"I don't trust him just because he's a professor. I trust Dumbledore too! If he were a bad person, Dumbledore couldn't possibly have failed to notice for more than a decade!"

Hermione strode along in a huff, no longer wanting to argue with them. She called out loudly, "Hi, Wade, are you going to study? Let's go together."

"Um... sure." Hermione's attitude made it impossible to refuse. Wade nodded to Harry and Ron, then turned and left with Hermione.

"—Unreasonable, isn't she?" Ron said with a frown. "Could Dumbledore not be fooled by Snape? Even Merlin got deceived sometimes!"

Harry nodded silently. He had always believed that Snape was the bad guy.

"Good afternoon, students!" An enthusiastic voice came from the wall. "You're all Gryffindors, right? I'm a Gryffindor too. I'm Griffiths. And you are?"

Ron said, "He's Harry Potter, and I'm Ron Weasley. I don't think we've met you before?"

"That's right, because I only moved here today!" Griffiths recalled. "Weasley and Potter... I think I knew wizards with those surnames before. They must have been your ancestors, right?"

"Really?"

Even Harry became interested this time. The two boys temporarily forgot their previous topic and began chatting with the portrait on the wall.