39

Chapter 39: Griffiths' Farewell Ceremony

After borrowing books, Wade continued his inquiries—Charms were well-covered in Professor Flitwick's texts, so he focused on Defense Against the Dark Arts spells like the Ironclad Curse and Disarming Charm, as well as obstacle spells.

Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts reputation was well-known. Professor Flitwick, rather than advising Wade to consult Quirrell, patiently addressed his queries, even lending him additional books.

Wade was appreciative.

Hogwarts was the sole wizarding school in the UK. Professors here didn't focus on KPIs or compare pass rates. Some were diligent and responsible, others casual, and a few taught classes according to their moods, disregarding the wizarding exams their students faced.

After his queries, Wade recalled Griffiths' request. "Professor, a portrait complained of its desolate location and seeks relocation to a livelier area. Is that permissible?"

Professor Flitwick inquired, "Does the portrait hold a specific duty?"

Certain Hogwarts portraits, like the Fat Lady outside Gryffindor Tower, served as guards, challenging their mobility.

Wade pondered, "Probably not. It mentioned residing in the entrance hall previously but was moved to the Astronomy Tower to accommodate other portraits."

"I know of whom you speak," Professor Flitwick smiled. "Griffiths was relocated because other portraits accused him of disturbing their sleep and inciting mischief—like pranking Ministry of Magic officials during inspections. The then-headmaster and professors believed he needed disciplining, hence banished him to the most remote corner of the school."

"And regarding its request..." Wade ventured.

"Enjoying liveliness isn't a sin," Professor Flitwick replied leniently. "If Griffiths pledges not to provoke Peeves into mischief, you may relocate him. However, the entrance hall isn't viable—many portraits there have their reasons."

...

"Alright, alright. But why don't they appreciate pranks? Pranks can bring joy to people!"

As Griffiths defended himself, he flitted between nearby portraits—

"Hey, old man, I'm off now—goodbye, Shalom, though I doubt you'll reply while crunching numbers. Barry, dear Fran Chisko, thanks for your hospitality, this is my farewell gift!"

Once clear of the portraits, Wade helplessly watched as Griffiths rotated an elderly stargazer's telescope 180 degrees, snatched a quill and inkpot from a bespectacled witch, and poured ink over a child's head while inserting a quill into another child's nostril.

After provoking every portrait, Griffiths scampered back to his own frame, loudly urging Wade, "Go! Go!"

But why did the portraits care about spatial distance? Though Wade had departed with Griffiths in tow, the other portraits pursued him into Griffiths' territory, pinning down the red-headed wizard and meting out retribution.

The bespectacled witch, enraged, kicked Griffiths hard and exclaimed, "Do you realize how long I was counting?!"

Naughty children treated Griffiths like a trampoline, jumping on him and shouting gleefully.

The elderly stargazer finally caught up, delivering a couple of hearty thwacks. Wincing, he clutched his waist and retreated in pain.

Wade couldn't intervene in the portrait's scuffle. Once calm returned, he surveyed Griffiths, resembling a mud puddle, and queried, "You're about to depart. Why endure such a beating?"

"Haha, you wouldn't understand," Griffiths chuckled, face smeared with ink, lying contentedly on the grass. "Isn't this the perfect farewell ceremony?"

Wade truly didn't understand.

Griffiths reclined, hands behind his head, gazing at the sky. "I don't wish to depart quietly. It might take them a while to realize. Ah, the red-head seems to have gone missing. I don't desire sadness or tears at my departure—just a joyful fracas leading to everyone's happiness. Isn't that grand?"

Wade pondered. "So, everyone achieves happiness except you, the one being battered?"

Griffiths paused, then burst into laughter. "Wade, you do have a sense of humor!"

As he chuckled, the chaotic portrait scene gradually restored—ink stains vanished, torn robes mended, trampled flowers and grass straightened, and broken tree branches mended.

Only the bruises on Griffiths' face remained.

"Griffiths, you must have been a Gryffindor yourself," Wade remarked while hanging the portrait.

"Of course! It's obvious, isn't it?" Griffiths scrutinized his surroundings. "Where exactly am I?"

"You can't return to the entrance hall. This corridor links the auditorium to the library—almost all students pass by daily. Your request should suffice," Wade explained.

"Ah, not bad, not bad," Griffiths nodded in satisfaction.

In the corridor, some portraits quietly observed this "newcomer," huddling together in discussion.

Hermione passed by with a stack of books, accompanied by two familiar figures—Harry and Ron, just returned from the library, engaged in hushed debate.

"I bet my broomstick Snape set the troll loose! He's after whatever's guarded by the three-headed dog," Harry whispered.

"No, he wouldn't!" Hermione retorted. "You can't cast aspersions on the professors!"

"Hermione, you always think the teachers are saints!" Ron countered impatiently. "But I saw—yes, I did! When the troll attacked, I ran to find you and saw Snape sneaking upstairs. Harry saw Snape's leg bleeding. Why do you blindly trust him just because he's a professor?"

"I trust him not just because he's a professor, but Dumbledore does too! If Snape were evil, Dumbledore would have known in over ten years!"

Hermione stormed off, unwilling to argue further. Spotting Wade, she called, "Heading to study? Join us."

"Um... okay." Hermione's tone brooked no refusal. Wade nodded at Harry and Ron, then turned and walked off with Hermione.

"...Unreasonable, isn't it?" Ron frowned. "Could Dumbledore really be fooled by Snape? Even Merlin made mistakes!"

Harry nodded silently, steadfast in his belief that Snape was up to no good.

"Good afternoon, students!" An enthusiastic voice echoed from the wall. "You're Gryffindors, right? So am I—a pleasure to meet you. I'm Griffiths. And you?"

"I'm Harry Potter, and this is Ron Weasley," Ron introduced. "We haven't seen you here before?"

"Correct, I just moved in today!" Griffiths reminisced. "Weasley and Potter—those names sound familiar. Perhaps I've known wizards of your lineage before?"

"Really?"

Even Harry grew interested, momentarily forgetting their prior discussion to chat with the portraits on the wall.

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