Chapter 82
The thrill of Gryffindor's Quidditch Cup victory quickly faded with the looming approach of the final exams.
Without a basilisk to steal the spotlight this year, the castle settled into an oppressive atmosphere of anxiety and study, with students trapped under the weight of tension and looming deadlines.
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A few small but notable changes rippled through the school in that tense period.
One day, Lucius Malfoy arrived at Hogwarts, bringing his house-elf along, and marched straight into the Headmaster's office. When he emerged, his face was twisted with fury.
From that day onward, Draco Malfoy no longer prowled the corridors with the swagger of someone who owned the place.
Instead, his features were dark with barely concealed resentment.
Rumors swirled through the castle like restless ghosts. It was said that Lucius had been forced to free his house-elf under Dumbledore's pressure and had even lost his voting privileges as a school governor.
Clearly, the Headmaster had pursued his investigation relentlessly, forcing the Malfoys to yield.
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Meanwhile, Gilderoy Lockhart's luck had well and truly run dry.
Rita Skeeter, the most notorious journalist in the wizarding world, published a scathing article titled: "The Rise of the Liars."
Her piece meticulously dismantled Lockhart's persona, pointing out glaring inconsistencies between his published "adventures" and his pitiful performance at Hogwarts.
Unable to defend himself convincingly, Lockhart only attracted more scrutiny.
Three days before exams began, a team of Aurors arrived at the castle and arrested him.
It turned out he had once stolen the achievements of an elderly wizard in America, claiming them as his own. Rita's report triggered a flood of witnesses who stepped forward, exposing that Lockhart had never truly solved the werewolf incident he so proudly bragged about.
The American Wizarding Congress sent an official inquiry to the Ministry of Magic, and within a week, the Wizengamot sentenced Lockhart to five years in Azkaban and a hefty compensation to his victims.
Albert and his friends couldn't help but celebrate the news in their own quiet way, though the Weasley twins were considerably less cheerful—after all, the expensive books they had purchased were now nothing more than worthless scrap paper.
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With Lockhart gone, Professor Snape temporarily took over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and his brutal final exam drove many students to tears.
Fortunately, the practical portion was moderated by Professor Flitwick, who designed an exam close to real combat, giving the more talented students a chance to shine.
The obstacle-filled testing chamber required each candidate to disarm animated dummies while navigating traps and barriers.
Albert, armed with his real combat experience, scored first place with ease.
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The night before the exam results were posted, Albert received an unusual invitation in a Dream of Emerald Fire, where he often practiced advanced magic.
Betty, the wise horse-woman he had met before, invited him to attend this year's Adult Majo Ceremony.
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The Adult Majo Ceremony…
Albert's mind drifted to memories from his previous life, recalling the Viking shows he had once watched.
Among horsefolk, this ceremony was a sacred rite of passage, a moment of immense honor.
Only recognized outsiders were ever invited to witness it.
In the Viking series he remembered, the young chieftain Ragnar's tribe had close ties to nearby horse clans, and yet only a single elderly shaman had ever been allowed to attend such a ritual.
This was not an event one could miss.
The following night, Albert arrived at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, just as agreed, where Wolfe, the wise giant wolf, waited to escort him.
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"Betty asked me to apologize," Wolfe rumbled in his deep voice.
"They're far too busy with preparations to fetch you themselves."
"No problem," Albert replied with an easy smile. "No need to trouble them. We can go on our own."
He began walking toward the path, but Wolfe stopped him with a solemn shake of his massive head.
"My friend, I think you should let me carry you. The druids have begun the divinations earlier than usual this year. If you walk, you may arrive too late for the ceremony."
With that, the wolf bent his knees in invitation.
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Albert, whose riding skills were nonexistent, hesitated before clambering onto the broad, fur-covered back.
He stretched himself out, gripping the thick fur near Wolfe's neck as the wolf gave him a word of caution to stay balanced.
The wolf's scent was wild yet clean, his fur warm against Albert's hands.
Once certain that Albert was secure, Wolfe began to run.
The forest blurred around them, trees whipping by as the wind hissed in Albert's ears.
For twenty long minutes, the great wolf ran tirelessly through the night until he reached a glimmering river.
The moment Wolfe stopped, Albert rolled off his back onto the ground, dizzy and sore.
The difference between a wolf and a horse was staggering—the movements of the wolf's back were far sharper, and twenty minutes of it had left Albert longing to walk on his own two feet.
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"Hey, are you alright?" Wolfe asked, surprised.
"The books say humans can handle wolf cavalry. Why couldn't you last? You didn't even complain once."
Albert raised his head weakly.
"My friend… I couldn't open my mouth without risking vomiting all over your fur."
Wolfe chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, while Albert finally looked around.
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Beneath a sky dusted with stars, the Horsefolk Village appeared like a vision from an ancient tale.
The difference between a human settlement and a horsefolk village was striking.
Every part of their home existed in perfect harmony with the surrounding wilderness, as if it had grown there rather than been built.
Like the old Viking shamans from Albert's past memories, these tribes maintained an unspoken balance with nature itself.
No villager went hungry or cold, yet the community took only what the land could spare.
They rotated harvests, relocated hunting grounds, and ensured that the fragile ecosystem could renew itself.
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From the riverbank, Albert gazed upon the village:
modest dwellings constructed from the forest's own abundance, nothing grand, but exuding a warm, ancient beauty.
The river murmured softly, the starlight shimmering across its ripples.
Wolfe leapt across the narrow stream, and together they approached the entrance to the village, where a rider was already waiting to receive them.
To be continued …