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Chapter 121: Scared (Part 1)
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 11:52:51 +0000 UTCFor Noah, the fact that Professor Snape had become the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was far more significant than Gilderoy Lockhart’s arrest.
In Noah’s eyes, Lockhart was nothing more than a clown.
He had used shamelessness, a polished façade, and well-practiced Memory Charms to somehow worm his way into the upper echelons of the British wizarding world. That, in itself, was ridiculous.
Although his deception skills were undeniably clever, such skills couldn’t hold up under real scrutiny. Unsurprisingly, the moment he was tested—he crumbled.
Noah honestly didn’t care enough to waste thoughts on someone like Lockhart. What truly shocked him was Professor Snape finally achieving his “dream”—a development Noah hadn’t anticipated at all.
Everyone knew Snape had an unhealthy obsession with the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, yet year after year, he’d been denied the position.
And now, out of the blue, he had it.
“Could it be that Dumbledore is under so much pressure that he finally gave in?”
Noah lay on his bed, unable to sleep. The current timeline was starting to spiral off-course, and although it didn’t directly affect him yet, he couldn’t help but overthink it.
Lucius Malfoy had initiated a formal evaluation of Lockhart through the Ministry of Magic—clearly with the intent of removing him.
But why?
Could it be that Lucius couldn’t find fault with Dumbledore himself, so he decided to attack from a different angle?
And the Defense Against the Dark Arts position wasn't a trivial one. Dumbledore and his allies had long fought against dark wizards. That alone showed how vital the subject was.
Snape was once Voldemort’s trusted Death Eater, placed to spy on Dumbledore. Now he was also handling Defense Against the Dark Arts? Could this be part of Lucius and the Death Eaters’ long game?
Noah rubbed his chin, a spark of interest glinting in his eyes.
“Snape is a double agent. He wants revenge against Voldemort. If he’s now in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts, are we really supposed to feel comfortable about that? Ugh, never mind. I’ll try to talk to Dumbledore about it. No point overthinking.”
Unable to settle his thoughts, Noah forced his eyes shut.
It wasn’t paranoia. From the beginning, Noah had never viewed this world as some whimsical fairy tale.
In fact, whether it was the books or the films, Harry Potter had only grown darker with time.
Noah was simply analyzing things from a future perspective. Sure, he hated this part of himself—the part that always expected the worst—but maybe it was necessary.
“Did I… unknowingly become the kind of person I once despised?”
With a half-smile and that thought still lingering in his mind, Noah entered his System Space.
As always, the System Space was quiet and grand. Endless rows of bookshelves stretched before him, filled with ancient tomes. The only real difference was that time now flowed much more slowly here—and the space itself had expanded.
---
Name: Noah Finniel
Age: 12
Mage Level: Order 3 Rank 2
---
It had to be said—Noah’s progress had begun to slow with each level-up.
Still, that was relative. Just a year ago, he hadn’t even reached Order 1. And now, he was already a Order 3 mage.
Many seasoned wizards would be livid if they found out.
But then, Noah noticed something peculiar—wizards in this world didn’t seem to use a rating system.
“To be honest, the lack of a ranking system makes me uncomfortable. I should probably ask the Ancient One about this. It’s not necessarily a bad thing… maybe even a good one!”
---
The next morning, Evan and the others yanked Noah out of bed bright and early. After sleeping in for nearly half a month, he felt exhausted just standing.
Their first class of the day was Snape’s new Defense Against the Dark Arts class—and there was no way Noah would risk being late.
Snape was, predictably, far better than Lockhart.
No empty boasts. No grandstanding. Just straight into real magical knowledge, followed by live practical exercises—just like his Potions lessons.
It was a far cry from Lockhart’s self-congratulatory nonsense, and the students were quick to notice. Most of them left the class with something useful.
Well… except Noah.
He was far beyond the level of his classmates. For him, the class was less a lesson and more an exercise in restraint. Facing off against him in combat exercises felt like bullying.
By the end of class, no one volunteered to duel him anymore. Most avoided eye contact entirely.
So Noah spent most of the session watching from the sidelines—or casually chatting with Snape.
Of course, Snape didn’t reveal much. He remained as secretive and dry as ever, deflecting most of Noah’s subtle inquiries.
Noah understood. Snape’s double life made it difficult to speak freely.
After class, instead of heading to the Room of Requirement with Evan and the others, Noah made his way to the eighth floor—to Dumbledore’s office.
When he was granted entry, he was met with an unusual sight: Dumbledore standing still, calmly observing a floating fireball dancing in his hand.
“Professor Dumbledore?” Noah asked, puzzled.
Dumbledore blinked out of his thoughts and smiled. “Ah, Noah. Good morning.”
He didn’t extinguish the fireball. Instead, it morphed into a miniature phoenix, which fluttered around him gracefully before vanishing in a soft burst of flame.
The headmaster adjusted himself in his seat and gestured for Noah to sit wherever he liked.
Noah did so, noting again how Dumbledore didn’t treat him like a child anymore.
In fact, he couldn’t recall when that shift had occurred.
Maybe it was after he started speaking of Voldemort’s eventual downfall, or the future of the wizarding world. Ever since then, Dumbledore had regarded him with more… gravity.
“I’m confused, Professor,” Noah said directly, wasting no time.
“Believe me, Noah… you’re not the only one. I’m confused as well. I’ve known Lucius Malfoy a long time. Say what you will, but he truly surprised me this time.” Dumbledore sighed, his expression layered with complex emotions.
There was something in his eyes Noah couldn’t quite decode—he wasn’t a mind reader or a psychologist.
After a moment, Dumbledore continued, “You know, Noah, Lucius paid me a visit over Christmas.”
“Oh?” Noah raised an eyebrow. “I’ve read about Draco’s father. A cunning man. Very good at apologies when needed. But still a textbook schemer.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “He came asking about you, actually.”
“Me? Ah. I suppose Draco told him quite a bit.”
“Yes, and Lucius did some digging on his own. According to his records, you were a very ordinary Muggle-born child… until Hogwarts. Then you became exceptional. He even spent quite a sum at the Ministry of Magic to investigate further.”
“So, he knows about my time in the U.S.?”
Noah wasn’t shocked. He knew Lucius’s type. And frankly, considering how far he’d strayed from his original plan to keep a low profile, being investigated seemed inevitable.
Noah even suspected Dumbledore had investigated him long ago—but at least the old man’s intentions were protective, not malicious.
Draco still had his memories, so who knew what he had told his father?
What amused Noah most was this: if Lucius truly found out who his teacher was… he might drop dead from shock.
“Well, he knows you studied at Kamar-Taj,” Dumbledore said. “But nothing beyond that.”
“That’s enough to spook him.”
“It certainly was. My contacts at the Ministry said he was visibly shaken when he left.”
Noah laughed. “Serves him right.”
“And shortly after, he came to see me again. I wasn’t planning to talk much with him, but just as he was leaving, he asked me, ‘What if Tom really returns—and wins? What happens then?’”
“What did you say?”
“I told him: try reading a few Muggle history books. Look into the Ministries of Magic outside of Britain. Not every country’s magical governance is as… flawed as ours. Especially the American MACUSA.”
“And that shook him?”
“Apparently. Less than a week later, he convinced the school board to push through several pro-Muggle student reforms. Oh, and he helped expel Lockhart while he was at it.”
“…Seriously?”
Noah gave Dumbledore a strange look.
Dumbledore met it with one of his own.
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