Chapter 54: 54: Inheritance Test and Howler

54: Inheritance Test and Howler

The man had red hair that cascaded over his shoulders, a handsome and dashing face, and a short beard on his chin.

Pieces of wood-like skin adhered to his body, making him resemble a wooden figure.

Alarm bells rang in John's mind. He gripped his sword tightly, his left hand holding his wand, ready to cast a spell at any moment.

"Who are you?"

The last piece of wooden skin adhered to his face, transforming the once thick wooden sword into a slender wand.

The man opened his eyes, which were bright and sharp, and his first words were, "You must be a Gryffindor!"

"Uh... I'm a Slytherin."

"Slytherin?"

The man looked at John in bewilderment, holding a large sword in his right hand and a wand in his left. This was clearly his own fighting style, and yet John claimed to be a Slytherin?

Godric Gryffindor burst into hearty laughter. "Don't try to fool me. You passed the test I left behind. My hat would never place you in Slytherin."

He was confident it was a joke by the young wizard, but John sensed something amiss.

"Your hat?"

"The Sorting Hat?"

John tentatively asked, "May I ask who you are?"

"Godric Gryffindor. If you prefer, you can call me the old headmaster."

Gryffindor, who appeared to be in his prime, habitually reached up to stroke his 'long' beard but remembered that this body was made to resemble his younger self with a short beard, not his old long one, so he stopped.

"One of the Four Founders?!" John was greatly shocked.

"You could call me that. This is the chamber I left behind. How do you find it? By the way, how's Gryffindor House doing these days? Have we beaten Slytherin for the House Cup?"

Gryffindor still thought John was a Gryffindor student. The mere mention of his old friend Salazar Slytherin made him snort in disdain.

It seemed the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was long-standing, dating back to the very founding of the school.

Seeing Gryffindor's disdain for Slytherin, John quietly pointed to the green on his robe and said, "I really am in Slytherin. Look."

The prominent green and silver on his wizarding robe stood out starkly. Gryffindor's expression soured instantly.

"Damn it, is my hat broken? It sorted you into Slytherin?"

Even Gryffindor himself now seriously doubted if his Sorting Hat had malfunctioned.

John didn't know what to say, so he just gave an awkward smile.

The fact that the student who had passed the test and brought him back wasn't a Gryffindor made Godric Gryffindor a bit uncomfortable. However, the chamber he left behind was intended to be open to the entire school, aiming to find an excellent successor.

Even if that successor was from Slytherin, he had to accept it.

"Alright, you passed the test and are eligible to inherit my legacy."

Gryffindor waved his wand lightly, and the fallen mannequins returned to normal and walked into the fireplace. Two chairs were conjured out of thin air.

He sat in one of the chairs, holding his wand like it was a branch.

"As long as you complete the next test, I will grant you the power you seek."

John sat down in the chair opposite Gryffindor. After hearing this, he hesitated for a moment and then asked, "I want to ask, if I accept your test, will I be expelled from Slytherin?"

Gryffindor nonchalantly said, "Expulsion would be fine. After all, pure-blood families generally aren't short of money."

"Um, Gryffindor Headmaster, I'm a Muggle-born."

"What?!"

Gryffindor was stunned. It was one thing to be a Slytherin, but to be a Muggle-born as well?

What exactly had happened at Hogwarts during his absence for a Muggle-born to be sorted into Slytherin?

Feeling overwhelmed by the information, Gryffindor needed a moment to process everything. The more he thought about it, the more confused he became.

"Could it be that Gryffindor and Slytherin swapped names?"

He looked at John again, and the more he looked, the more plausible it seemed.

Godric Gryffindor had a boyish personality. He and Salazar Slytherin were opposites yet best friends—one was brave, the other was calm; one sought adventure, the other craved magic.

Though they eventually went their separate ways, it was an amicable split.

Gryffindor decided not to dwell on it any longer and said, "Don't worry. My legacy is open to the whole school, so you won't be expelled."

"Alright."

John felt relieved knowing he wouldn't be expelled. Though the inheritance was tempting, getting expelled would be disastrous, especially once Voldemort was resurrected.

"The trials are threefold: The Bird in the Forest, The Lion in the Mountain, and The Sword of the Brave."

"During the trials, I will observe your performance," Gryffindor said, preparing to wave his wand.

John raised his hand to interrupt him, apologetically saying, "I'm sorry, Headmaster Gryffindor, but I can't take the trial right now. It's time for bed."

Gryffindor held back his words, his actions halted mid-motion by John's interruption.

"Then let's do it another time!" Gryffindor finally said after a long pause.

"Thank you, Headmaster Gryffindor."

John stood up, bowed, and left. The idea of starting the trial had initially startled him.

Ding!

John wasn't willing to take the risk without his protective charms and full equipment.

Caution is the key to longevity.

Returning to the dormitory, John decided to rest and regain his energy before continuing.

The next day.

John arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, which was quite sumptuous, with porridge and pickled herring, as well as bread, eggs, and bacon.

Though having pickled herring in the morning felt somewhat like eating snail noodles with porridge, John had long gotten used to it. His stomach was as strong as iron by now.

As he ate his bread with porridge, a blonde girl sat down next to him.

Daphne stared at John's handsome profile and inexplicably started to laugh.

Casually, she said, "John, did you know our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is Gilderoy Lockhart? My mother absolutely loves him."

John took a sip of his porridge, paired it with some cut bacon, and calmly replied, "I've read his books. They are well-written, but I'm not sure about his teaching skills."

Changing the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher every year resulted in students having varying levels of proficiency in the subject.

John couldn't understand why the school was so stubborn about it. Couldn't they just change the name and teach the same course? Calling it Dark Arts Countermeasures would work just as well.

Voldemort's curse is on the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; what does that have to do with my professor of Dark Arts Countermeasures?

Whether the curse is real or not is uncertain, but the fact that there's a new professor each year is undeniable.

Last year's professor, Quirrell, wasn't serious about teaching. John later studied Dark Arts with him and knew that Quirrell was quite skilled; he just pretended to be incompetent.

Malfoy approached with his two cronies, excitedly telling John, " Hey John! Potter and that annoying Weasley got into trouble this time. They flew a car to school. It's a shame you weren't in the Great Hall yesterday."

'It's good this kid doesn't know it was my father who drove that car....'

News spread quickly, and that night, Gryffindor celebrated Harry's reckless behavior.

Harry realized he'd done something stupid, and the consequence was Hermione getting angry.

As the brains of their trio, Hermione couldn't believe someone could be so foolish.

She sulkily read "Voyages with Vampires," completely enamored with the book and its author, Gilderoy Lockhart.

Today, the post arrived, and hundreds of owls crowded into the Great Hall, creating a chaotic scene overhead.

An elderly owl flew toward Gryffindor, intending to land, but instead plunged headfirst into Hermione's milk jug.

"Errol!"

The elderly owl belonged to the Weasleys. Ron rescued it and saw the red envelope it was holding.

A Howler.

There was going to be a show. John noticed Malfoy change direction, looking ready to enjoy the drama.

"Haha, a Howler! Weasley is in for it," Malfoy gloated, and his cronies mimicked crying faces in mock sympathy.

Ron held the Howler, not wanting to open it. Neville quietly advised, "You'd better open it. It's worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it, and..."

Remembering the terrifying scene, Neville shivered.

Ron swallowed hard, already dreading the outcome.

With trembling hands, he opened the Howler.

The enormous roar from within made the entire Great Hall shudder. John watched as a bit of ash fell into his porridge. Without a word, he switched it with Malfoy's bowl.

Malfoy, thoroughly enjoying Weasley's misery, picked up the porridge and took a big sip. It was gone in just a few gulps, but he seemed to relish every moment of it.

Read 12 Chapters Ahead at