Chapter 223. About the Amulets
After the amulets had been handed out, the Start-of-Term Feast continued.
Albus Dumbledore announced the new Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts—Remus Lupin.
Hearing that familiar name, Harry was surprised to notice that there was another acquaintance at the staff table.
Lupin had actually become their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor!
Harry suddenly thought of the announcement he'd heard on the train; Adrian Wesson seemed to have mentioned Lupin's name over the loudspeaker.
At the time he'd thought he'd misheard. Now it seemed his ears were perfectly fine.
No wonder Lupin had abruptly left Wesson's plantation this year—it turned out he had a new job.
It had to be said, the position of professor sounded far more respectable than tending plants on a plantation.
Harry was sincerely happy for Lupin. Unlike Quirinus Quirrell, who only ever droned from the textbook, and Gilderoy Lockhart, who was all show and no substance, Lupin was not only powerful but also truly reliable.
With him teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, they would surely learn something real.
Compared with Harry's enthusiasm, the other students' reaction to this new professor was much more subdued.
They were already used to changing Defence Against the Dark Arts professors every year.
They fully expected there would be another one next year.
But with Wesson taking the lead, most of the students were still willing to give the newcomer a hearty round of applause.
"Oh, thank you."
Lupin stood and offered the students a gentle greeting.
Harry was clapping happily when Ron suddenly tapped his shoulder.
"What is it?" he asked Ron, puzzled.
"Look at Snape," Ron said, pointing to the other side of the staff table.
Harry looked over and saw Severus Snape staring daggers at Lupin with a dark, brooding gaze.
His face was so grim it might have dripped ink; the hatred in his eyes was unconcealed.
That familiar look of hostility made Harry understand at once—Snape's dislike for Lupin likely rivalled his hatred for Harry himself.
Perhaps something unpleasant had happened between Snape and Lupin.
Harry could understand that. With Snape's habit of taking a dislike to just about everyone, it was only normal that he had many enemies.
Dumbledore's speech ended, and exquisite, delicious dishes began appearing one after another on the tables in the Great Hall. The feast officially began.
Adrian Wesson ate a piece of pumpkin pie at an unhurried pace, listening as Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick chatted about old stories—most of them about Lupin.
The Marauders had got up to no end of chaos back in the day, and they were always good for conversation. Unfortunately, apart from Lupin, the Marauders' fates seemed rather bleak.
Two dead; one imprisoned and then escaped.
It made one sigh.
Soon, the feast concluded smoothly.
The next day, the new term at Hogwarts officially began.
In the morning, Wesson appeared in the Great Hall right on time—experience told him that in the first few days of term the House-elves were always especially enthusiastic, and breakfast became particularly abundant.
As Wesson was enjoying a piping-hot meat pie, several students came to find him one after another.
Two of them were familiar faces: Percy, and his girlfriend Penelope; the remaining one was a Slytherin student.
"Professor Wesson, there's something we'd like to ask," Percy said, holding up his amulet to Wesson. "Penelope wants to know how this amulet was made. She's always been interested in this sort of magical item."
"That's right," Penelope smiled. "In fact, I tried the same enchantment several times last night to reproduce your amulet, but the results were less than ideal."
"Mm, Miss Clearwater," Wesson set down his knife and fork and looked at Penelope with some surprise. "That's impressive initiative. May I see your result?"
He didn't mind this in the least; on the contrary, he supported it.
And in his impression, Penelope was a very capable Ravenclaw—clever, with top marks.
Her position as Ravenclaw Prefect was well deserved.
At Wesson's words, Penelope eagerly took out an amulet of the same size from her pocket—but clearly she hadn't used thunderstruck wood or anything similar.
Wesson took it and examined it carefully; the runes on it had been reproduced almost exactly.
"It's already very good, Miss Clearwater," Wesson said approvingly, nodding. "I daresay I couldn't have done it more perfectly myself."
"Really?" Penelope looked delighted, but quickly asked, puzzled, "Then why…?"
"The issue lies with the materials," Wesson said with a cheerful smile. "I used a special magic-bearing wood—one I cultivated myself—and the set of runes I designed can only be used on that wood. Don't doubt yourself; you've done quite well enough."
Penelope let out a breath of relief, the question that had troubled her all night finally resolved.
She added, "Thank you, Professor Wesson. I thought the problem was me."
After resolving Penelope's issue, Wesson turned his gaze to the Slytherin student beside her. "And you, sir?
"What's your question? Is it about the amulet, or something else?"
"Yes." The Slytherin student also took out his amulet, turned it over, and pointed at the pattern on the back.
Hesitantly, he asked, "I'd like to know… what this is."
"Oh," Wesson glanced at it and said pleasantly, "it's just a decorative motif."
Yes—Wesson had carved different motifs into each House's amulets as a little surprise.
"Is that an earthworm?" the Slytherin student asked, wavering.
Wesson's smile suddenly froze.
Then, in a low voice, he said, "It's a snake…"
The Slytherin student looked embarrassed.
What could one say… the design was, admittedly, a bit abstract.
At that moment, Percy also took out the amulet he'd received and, with a complicated expression, looked at the motif on the back. "So… this is supposed to be a lion? I always thought it was a swallow-tailed dog."
Wesson said nothing more and simply continued eating the remainder of his pie in silence.
Halfway through breakfast, the new timetables were handed out.
Because of the additional electives, the third-years' schedules suddenly became crowded.
Harry looked at his own timetable and found he had far less free time.
He couldn't help glancing at Hermione, because she seemed to have chosen every single class. He didn't think the blank spaces left on a timetable could possibly hold that many courses.
Hermione was looking at her new timetable too, positively radiant.
From that expression, Harry could have sworn she was looking at a sheet full of top marks.
Feeling Harry's gaze, Hermione turned to him, puzzled. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Harry said. "May I have a look at your timetable?"
"Oh, of course."
Hermione handed her timetable over.
Harry gave it a glance and couldn't help feeling a bit perplexed, because at nine o'clock this morning she had three classes to attend—Divination, Muggle Studies, and Arithmancy.
Which was obviously impossible.
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