boyutpedia Chapter 213 Professor McGonagall Falls
Chapter 213 Professor McGonagall Falls
Chapter 213 Professor McGonagall Falls
The atmosphere inside the castle grew increasingly tense, but some daily activities continued as usual, which only added to the strangeness of the oppressive environment at that time.
Just before nightfall, Harry dragged his leaden legs back to the Gryffindor Tower from the Quidditch training ground.
Training was a complete disaster—a new tactical exercise repeatedly failed, and Captain Wood was furious like never before, resulting in the team practicing for a full hour. Even the brooms seemed to be out of control, and Harry felt like he was dragging the entire team along.
He thought wearily that this probably couldn't be entirely blamed on his teammates. The unease that permeated the castle was like an invisible spider web, entangled in everyone's mind, and even the usually mild-mannered Wood had become irritable and easily angered.
These jumbled thoughts swirled in his mind until he pushed open the door to the portrait of the fat lady, and the warm, bustling common room pulled him back to reality. All he wanted to do now was throw himself into the sofa closest to the door and let the soft cushions envelop him.
"Harry!" But Ron blocked his way. "There's a note for you."
Harry took the note, and as his fingertips touched the paper's unusually thick texture, a bad feeling crept into his heart.
The contents of the note confirmed his premonition.
Under the bright lights of the common room, he didn't even need to fully unfold the lettering; just a glimpse of the ornate, almost flamboyant curls at the edges was enough for him to recognize whose handwriting it was—he had imitated this font far too many times while helping Lockhart process piles of fan mail.
"It's Lockhart." Harry's voice carried an undisguised weariness.
"What did he say?" Ron leaned closer curiously. "Is he planning some special event about spending a wonderful afternoon with Lockhart again? Seriously, if he asks you to help him try his new perfume again, I suggest you just pretend to be sick."
Harry unfolded the note and read it softly: "Dear Harry, please come to my office before curfew tonight. I have some questions about the new book and desperately need your wisdom. —Yours faithfully, GL"
"Lockhart is writing a new book!?" Hermione's voice came from behind them. She had somehow gotten close to them, her face showing surprise and excitement.
Ron glanced at her sideways: "Don't tell me you're still a fan of his even now?"
Hermione awkwardly straightened her hair. "While the veracity of his personal experiences in the book—which is certainly questionable," she carefully chose her words, "you can't deny that his writing is very engaging and the narrative structure is ingenious. From a purely literary perspective, his book is indeed—quite good."
Harry had no interest in the argument. He pushed past the two men and finally managed to throw himself into the incredibly inviting sofa, letting out a long groan: "I'll rest for ten minutes—just ten minutes—and then I'll deal with Lockhart—"
Finally, when Harry raised his hand to knock on Lockhart's office door, the clock on the wall showed that there were still twenty minutes until curfew.
The door opened almost instantly, as if Lockhart had been waiting behind it all along.
With an overly bright, even somewhat forced smile on his face, he pulled Harry into the room.
"Harry! My dear child!" Lockhart's voice was louder than usual, with an unnatural enthusiasm. "It's so good to have you here! Come in, come in!"
The office was more chaotic than Harry remembered. Piles of autographed photos, fancy quills, and all sorts of perfume bottles filled every inch of the space. The magical photos framed in gold on the walls seemed more lively than usual, with all the Lockharts in them winking and flashing bright smiles at Harry in unison, their movements almost bizarrely exaggerated.
Lockhart himself quickly walked around to the back of his extravagant writing desk and began rummaging through the mountain of papers.
"It's like this, I'd like to ask you for a small favor," Lockhart said without looking up, his voice coming from behind the pile of documents, sounding somewhat somber, "about my next book, it needs a brilliant opening, and I think your perspective—"
The office door closed gently behind Harry, making a soft but clear "click," as if severing the last connection with the outside world.
Meanwhile, in Lynch's office.
Lynch stood quietly by the office window, as night had completely enveloped Hogwarts.
He didn't light any lamps, but simply closed his eyes, focusing entirely on the invisible magical mist permeating the castle. It was like an extension of his nerve endings, calming the magical fluctuations throughout the castle...
Active, restless—like a stream, they converged upon him.
Suddenly, an extremely violent and destructive surge of magical energy, like thorns, pierced through his calm sensory network!
Before he could even discern the source and nature of this power, "BOOM!!!"
A deafening explosion, powerful enough to shake the ancient stone walls, suddenly came from the north wing of the castle!
Lin Qi suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as an eagle's.
Based on the feedback from the fog, he instantly pinpointed the exact location—the north wing corridor bridge!
Without any hesitation, he immediately lifted the Apparition restriction at Hogwarts.
A muffled thud came from the compressed space, and Lin Qi's figure had disappeared from the office.
The next instant, accompanied by a soft "thump," he was standing steadily at the entrance of the covered bridge.
The sight before him made him frown deeply.
Professor McGonagall slumped against the wall of the covered bridge, her eyes closed, unconscious. Her square glasses lay a few steps away, the lenses shattered and the frames twisted and deformed.
The diminutive Professor Flitwick stood frozen beside her, wand held high, his face deathly pale, filled with utter shock and bewilderment.
"Professor Flitwick?" Lynch's voice was frighteningly calm, and his gaze, like a sharp blade, swept quickly across the entire scene.
The explosion was controlled with extreme precision within a small area. A charred crater was blasted into the floor of the central corridor, scattering debris everywhere, but the stone pillars and walls of the corridor just a few steps away miraculously remained intact. This masterful control over the destructive force demonstrated the spellcaster's astonishingly high level of magical manipulation.
"Professor Lynch!" Professor Flitwick seemed to only then be startled by his voice, turning to him, his voice slightly distorted with terror, his hand holding the wand trembling uncontrollably. "Thank God you're here! It was terrible—McGran, she—we were just talking, and she—it all happened so fast...."
Lynch strode forward, standing beside Professor McGonagall.
He crouched down, supporting her neck with one hand while using the other to feel her pulse on the side of her neck, his gaze sweeping over her pale face.
Lynch quickly made a judgment: rapid and shallow breathing, complete loss of consciousness, unconsciousness caused by the impact, and possible lung damage—requiring professional treatment.