Having borrowed the book, Wade continued to ask questions. The content on Charms was already explained in great detail in Professor Flitwick's book, so he asked about Defense Against the Dark Arts related spells, such as the Shield Charm, Disarming Charm, Impediment Jinx, and so on.
The quality of Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts class was, as those in the know understood, notoriously inconsistent. Professor Flitwick didn't direct him to Quirrell but instead patiently and thoroughly answered his questions, even lending him a few more books afterward.
Wade felt immensely grateful.
There was only one magic school in all of Britain, Hogwarts. The professors there weren't evaluated on KPIs, nor were their pass rates or excellence rates publicly compared, nor were there annual reviews or performance assessments.
The professors truly taught purely based on their conscience. Some were dedicated and responsible, while others just coasted through the day, or taught whatever they felt like, completely disregarding the students' need to pass their wizarding level exams.
After finishing his questions, Wade remembered Griffiths' request and asked, "Professor, a portrait complained that its current location is too quiet and wants me to help move it to the lively entrance hall. I wonder if that's possible?"
Professor Flitwick asked, "Is it a portrait with an official duty?"
Some Hogwarts portraits served as guardians, like the Fat Lady's portrait outside the Gryffindor common room, and thus couldn't be easily moved.
Wade thought for a moment. "I don't think so. He said he used to be in the entrance hall and was moved to the Astronomy Tower to make room for another portrait."
"Oh, oh, I know who you're talking about now," Professor Flitwick said with a smile. "Griffiths was moved primarily because many portraits complained that he disturbed their sleep, and he also encouraged Peeves to play pranks on Ministry of Magic officials during their inspections. The Headmaster and professors at the time felt he deserved a lesson, which is why he was moved to the quietest place in the school."
"Then his request—" Wade probed tentatively.
"Liking a lively place isn't a crime," Professor Flitwick said leniently. "As long as he promises not to encourage Peeves to cause trouble anymore, you can move him. But the entrance hall probably won't work; many portraits in the entrance hall have grievances against Griffiths."
"Oh, fine, fine. But I really don't understand why they don't like pranks! Pranks can bring so much joy to people!"
Griffiths argued his case while swiftly flitting back and forth between the surrounding portraits:
"Hey, old man, I'm leaving now—Shalome, I'd be happy if you wrote to me in between your calculations, though I don't know if I'll receive it—Barry, and dear Francesco, thank you for your hospitality, this is a farewell gift!"
With the portrait unhung, Wade watched Griffiths turn the stargazing old man's telescope a full one hundred and eighty degrees, then snatch the spectacled witch's quill and ink, finally pouring the ink on one mischievous child's head and sticking the quill up another's nostril.
After provoking every portrait, he swiftly darted back into his own frame and loudly urged Wade, "Hurry! Go, go!"
But what did spatial distance matter to portraits? Even though Wade had already carried the portrait out of the corridor, the figures within those portraits still chased into Griffiths' territory, pinning the red-haired wizard down and giving him a beating.
The spectacled witch was never so furious. She kicked Griffiths hard with her foot, screaming, "Do you know how long I've been calculating! How long!"
The mischievous children seemed to treat Griffiths as a trampoline, bouncing and jumping on him, shouting loudly.
The stargazing old man finally caught up, swung two forceful blows, and then seemed to have tweaked his back. He clutched his lower back and returned, looking pained.
Wade naturally couldn't interfere with the brawl among the portraits. After everyone dispersed, he looked at Griffiths, who lay like a pile of mud, and helplessly asked, "You're leaving anyway, why bring this beating upon yourself? What's the point?"
"Haha, you don't understand." Griffiths, with a footprint on his forehead, rolled over and lay on the grass in the valley, laughing heartily. "Isn't this the best farewell ceremony?"
Wade genuinely didn't understand.
Griffiths clasped his hands behind his head, looking at the sky. "I don't want to leave silently, so they might not realize for a long time—'Oh, that red-haired fellow seems to be gone.' And I don't want a farewell with sadness and tears. A bit of a playful fight, and everyone is happy at the end. Isn't that great?"
Wade pondered for a moment. "So, it's—a world where everyone gained happiness, and only you got hurt, is that it?"
Griffiths paused, then burst into laughter. "Wade, you have a sense of humor after all!"
As he laughed, the messy scene in the portrait slowly returned to normal—the footprints on Griffiths disappeared, his torn robes mended, the trampled flowers and grass straightened up, and the broken branches on the trees grew back.
Only the bruises on his face hadn't completely vanished.
"Griffiths, you must have been a Gryffindor, weren't you?" Wade asked as he hung the portrait on the wall.
"Of course! You could tell at a glance, couldn't you?" Griffiths peered over the frame, trying to look left and right. "Where is this place?"
"You can't go back to the entrance hall. This is the main path from the Great Hall to the library; almost all students pass through here daily. It should meet your requirements," Wade said.
"Oh, good, good," Griffiths was very satisfied.
In the corridor, some portraits quietly observed this "newcomer," some even huddling together, whispering.
Hermione happened to pass by, carrying a pile of books. Two familiar people were with her—Harry and Ron. The group had probably just returned from the library and were arguing in low voices.
"I'd bet my broomstick that Snape let the troll in! He wants to steal the thing guarded by the three-headed dog," Harry said, holding his breath.
"No, he wouldn't!" Hermione said angrily. "You can't maliciously speculate about the school's professors like that!"
"Honestly, Hermione, you always think the school teachers are saints!" Ron said impatiently. "But I told you—I! SAW! IT! WITH! MY! OWN! EYES! When the troll appeared, I went to find you two, and I saw Snape secretly running upstairs! Harry also saw Snape's leg covered in blood from a bite. Why do you ignore these facts and believe him just because he's a professor?"
"I believe him not just because he's a school professor, but also because of Dumbledore! If he were a bad person, Dumbledore couldn't possibly have failed to notice for over a decade!"
Hermione strode off angrily, no longer wanting to argue with them. She called out loudly, "Hi, Wade, are you going to study? Come along."
"Mm—alright." Hermione's attitude made refusal impossible. Wade nodded to Harry and Ron, then turned and left with Hermione.
"—Incredible, isn't she?" Ron said, frowning. "Couldn't Dumbledore also be misled by Snape? Even Merlin was tricked sometimes!"
Harry nodded silently; he remained convinced that Snape was the culprit.
"Good afternoon, students!" an enthusiastic voice came from the wall. "You're all Gryffindors, right? I'm a Gryffindor too. I'm Griffiths, and you?"
Ron said, "He's Harry Potter, I'm Ron Weasley. We haven't seen you before?"
"That's right, because I just moved here today!" Griffiths recalled. "Weasley and Potter, I think I've known wizards with those surnames before. They must be your ancestors, right?"
"Really?"
Now even Harry was interested. The two temporarily forgot their previous topic and began chatting with the portrait on the wall.