Hogwarts: Don't call me the Staff Maker

Chapter 488 Occupational Surgery

Chapter 488 Occupational Surgery

After Sirius's analysis, Professor Moody's personal experience, and respect for the curse of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry ultimately chose to tell Dumbledore, who was having breakfast in the Great Hall, rather than Sirius.

Dumbledore took it very seriously. After hearing the story, he didn't even eat breakfast and immediately took Harry back to the headmaster's office.

They stayed in the headmaster's office for a long time, and Harry didn't rush back to the classroom until ten minutes into Charms class.

Professor Flitwick must have received the news early on. He didn't punish Harry for being late; he simply calmly told him to find a seat and then continued standing on a platform made of stacks of books. He addressed everyone, saying, "The Summoning Charm, one of the most important spells in the fifth year, and also the spell that appeared most frequently in the 0.WL exams."

"Unlike the spells we've learned before, the Summoning Charm requires concentration in addition to the incantation and wrist movements. You must clearly know what you need; only then can it come to you accurately."

"But I must remind you, never try to use a spell to cheat your way out and summon things that don't belong to you, unless you want to have a word with the Aurors."

Professor Flitwick's expression suddenly turned serious, and he said earnestly, "In fact, every year many wizards are sent to Azkaban for abusing Spells, and I really hope you won't be one of them."

"Oh, by the way, the Bronze Nat, Silver Sikor, and Golden Galleon all have Anti-Flying Charms, so this spell has no effect on them."

After Professor Flitwick finished speaking, a sigh rippled through the classroom. Several fifth-year Ravenclaw students looked disappointed, as if it were a great pity that they couldn't use the Summoning Charm on Galleon.

This also reminded Xilun of an amusing story his grandfather had told him.

Few would imagine that Ravenclaws make up the largest number of graduates in Azkaban, almost half of the wizarding prison.

Even though Voldemort fell from power more than a decade ago and a large number of Slytherin's Death Eaters were sent to prison, it still couldn't shake the intelligent Ravenclaw's position in Azkaban.

In retrospect, this was not without reason.

Professor Flitwick then emphasized some key points about the Spell of Succeeding and let them practice freely, while he moved among the students, pointing out their mistakes one by one.

"Focus, Mr. Finigan, focus—"

"Mr. Thomas, you should imagine what your feather looks like, not what the most standard feather looks like."

"Be careful, Miss Tok, the feather you're trying to control isn't the table."

"What did Headmaster Dumbledore say?" Sirren waved his wand, and the wand, which was tucked inside the book, flew steadily over and landed in his hand.

"He didn't say anything." Harry glanced at Professor Flitwick's position, noticing he was still two aisles away, and then whispered, "He just told me to keep it a secret and not tell anyone else."

"So, can you tell me now if it's okay?"

"Of course not, you already knew that anyway—feather flying in—" Harry waved his wand forcefully, but his feather only swayed in mid-air before spinning and falling to the ground.

"Mr. Potter, your conviction needs to be stronger," Professor Flitwick's voice came from afar.

"I feel my conviction is strong enough," Harry said, picking up the quill pen that had fallen to the ground, as if suddenly remembering something.

"By the way, Sirius, Headmaster Dumbledore also said that he wants me to ask you for a spell."

"With whom, me?" Celen pointed to himself. "Are you sure you heard me right? He wasn't talking about Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick."

"Of course, I'm sure I heard correctly," Harry said.

"Hmm... okay, what kind of curse is it?"

"Let me think—it seems to be called something like Occlumency—yes, that's the name."

Harry pondered for a moment and said, "Actually, he originally wanted to find a teacher to teach me, but then he said you're very good at this spell, and it would be more suitable for you to teach me. Speaking of which, what kind of spell is Occlumency? I've never heard of it before."

"A spell that can protect your memories and brain." Siron looked at Harry with a strange expression and said, "Occlumency should stop you from having nightmares once you've fully mastered it."

"Really?" Harry's eyes lit up. "Is this spell easy to learn?"

"It's difficult, one of the most complex forms of magic, but in a sense it's also very simple," Siren said.

Harry didn't quite understand. What did it mean to be difficult yet simple?

Isn't this a contradiction?

"Can you?" he asked.

"Yes, I could do it when I was six years old."

Harry was quite pleased to hear that Siren had mastered Occlumency at the age of six. A spell that a six-year-old wizard could master must not be difficult.

He was nervous for a while before, but now it seems there was no need for that at all.

But before he could even be happy, Xilun continued.

"But Harry, my method might—well, not be suitable for you."

He did not learn Occlumency through normal means, but through a book containing a symbol left by Ollivander hundreds or even thousands of years ago.

To put it another way, it's similar to the protective magic left on Harry by Lily Evans—simple and crude, but direct and effective.

However, this method can only allow Siren to learn Occlumency himself; teaching it to others is another matter entirely.

Dumbledore couldn't possibly believe that Ollivander could mass-produce Occlumency masters, could he? — How could that be possible?

Xilun rubbed his forehead.

If Harry also had the last name Ollivander, then everything would be much easier; all he would have to do was take a look at the book.

But Harry's surname is Potter, and he couldn't even open the book. Even if he did, he couldn't see anything. To him, it was just a thick, old-fashioned blank sheet of paper.

Looking into Harry's clear eyes, Siron didn't know how to explain it to him.

Fortunately, the sound of an explosion nearby caught Harry's attention.

It was Seamus; his feathers had exploded again, leaving a glaring mark on the table.

But in the face of this unusual event, the people around remained surprisingly calm, as if what had just happened was not an explosion, but someone sneezing.

In addition, apart from Seamus Finnigan himself, everyone else was far away from where the feathers exploded and was not affected.

"Ah, I knew it," Professor Flitwick muttered under his breath, returning to his desk and saying loudly, "I'll say it again, focus—oh wait, Mr. Finnigan, you'd better practice after class, I mean—there might not be any extra feathers in the classroom."

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