Chapter 1067
Administrator and Old Traditions
Chapter 1067 Administrator and Old Traditions
Most alchemists achieve limited success, and to create something truly remarkable often requires years of dedicated study, which is completely at odds with Percy's life plans.
Therefore, when choosing courses in sixth grade, he never considered taking the Alchemy course.
However, as Wade's fame grew and the influence of his works became more widespread, the name of his alchemy professor, Terence Morey, became known to more wizards, and Percy naturally received similar information passively as well.
He knew of Mori, but hadn't paid much attention to him.
Percy looked at the application form over and over again, scrutinizing the signature "Terrence Morey" repeatedly. He not only used monitoring magic but even rubbed his fingers together to check it.
But a signature is a signature.
The ink is clear and the strokes are smooth. Over the years, the parchment has become darker and softer, the ink has slightly blurred, and there is minor wear at the edges...
These are all very difficult to fake perfectly.
Percy believed he could detect if a copying or transmutation spell was used.
Besides, he's the Weasley son, who would use such methods to guard against him?
So this signature is actually genuine?
Percy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, angrily tossed the application form aside, and refocused his attention on the pile of documents.
He flipped to another application form, one from a Ravenclaw named Anthony Goldstein, um… the Goldstein family…
I opened another one.
Susan Bornes... this time it's Hufflepuff, a pureblood.
Percy forced himself to forget his earlier disappointment and continued registering the names, signatures, and application dates...
He knew perfectly well that what he was doing was a meaningless waste of time, but it was the correct procedure.
But one name keeps lingering in my mind—
Mori! Mori! Mori!
Why Terence Morey?
Finally, Percy threw his pen on the table, stood up abruptly, and the already unstable chair crashed to the ground with a loud bang.
The jarring crash echoed through the archives. Percy paused, pushed open the door, and strode away.
……
Filch, his back hunched, was tearing a piece of leftover smoked chicken from lunch into thin strips and putting it into Mrs. Lorris's bowl.
"Eat up," the old administrator said, squinting. "Next time you encounter those unruly brats, run a little faster."
Mrs. Lorris squinted almost exactly like her master. She lowered her head, sniffed, and then demurely swallowed two strips of meat.
Filch leaned back in his chair and chuckled contentedly.
Beside him, two crabs slowly crawled across the table, blowing bubbles of various sizes from their mouths.
Those things that looked like soap bubbles landed on the ink-stained table, popped with a "pop," and the stains disappeared.
Several crabs were lying next to the brazier, as if they were warming themselves by the fire, making soft purring sounds, and occasionally a small colorful bubble would appear.
These crabs wore hats of various colors on their backs—brown fisherman's hats, orange berets, Santa Claus's pointed hats, sailor hats with ribbons, and even fluffy Russian fur hats.
Filch had a round wicker basket beside him. He took out a crochet hook and a ball of red yarn from the basket, and while sitting in a chair and rocking back and forth, he slowly began to crochet a red bow tie.
This is a new pastime he's added to his leisure time. For many years, Filch has hardly had a moment to himself.
Because whenever he had free time, he would wander around the campus, catching students who wanted to sneak into secret passages or forbidden forests, as well as students who ran around at night instead of sleeping.
Seeing the terrified looks on the students' eyes as they ran around in a panic while he chased them, his heart pounded with excitement, his blood rushed to his head, and his temples throbbed.
However, in recent years, Filch has gradually learned to steal moments of leisure amidst his busy schedule, and has even entered a retirement lifestyle.
Especially after the ordeal with Barty, he no longer obsessively pursued that elusive magical talent, nor did he indulge in punishing students who made mistakes.
His greatest pleasure now is preparing little gifts for Mrs. Lorris and the little crabs that they may never need in their lifetime.
"Bang bang bang bang!"
A rapid knocking sounded suddenly.
The bubbles burst with a "pop," instantly waking the sleeping little crabs. They scurried about, quickly squeezing themselves into every corner of the room—
On the roof, in the gaps of door frames, above filing cabinets, under the bed, and even in the shadow of the charcoal brazier.
This wasn't a panicked escape, but rather preparation for a sneak attack.
Filch slowly stood up, opened the door a crack, and saw Percy with a stern face.
“Mr. Weasley,” Filch opened the door a little wider and asked, “What is it?”
Percy glanced around the dimly lit room, paid no attention, and took out the large black key from his pocket and handed it over.
"My work for today is temporarily finished, but I will continue later."
Percy raised his chin and said, "I've locked the door to the archives. Here's the key back; I'll come back to borrow it tomorrow."
Filch took the key, weighed it in his hand, and said:
"Actually, you don't need to go to all this trouble. You can return it when you're done with your work. Anyway, it's just a bunch of unwanted scrap paper, it won't run away."
“It’s better to follow the rules.” Percy forced a smile. “That’s not just scrap paper; it’s important school data.”
“Fine, you’re an official in the Ministry of Magic, you’re in charge.” Filch casually stuffed the key into his pocket.
“Then I’ll come find you again tomorrow morning… at eight o’clock, do you have time?” Percy asked.
“Of course.” Filch looked up at Percy, who was much taller than him, and said slowly, “Eight o’clock… I’m usually in the auditorium.”
“The auditorium will do.” Percy nodded, then casually added, “By the way, Mr. Filch, I noticed something when I was registering…”
He paused, his gaze falling on Filch's face, and said:
"Why are some students' guardians signing their names with the names of school professors? Doesn't that seem to be against regulations?"
"A school professor?" Filch asked, somewhat confused. "Who is it?"
Percy frowned and said, "It's the one with Wade Gray, and it's signed by Professor Terence Murray! Does that mean his parents didn't want him to go to Hogsmeade, and the professors made an exception for him?"
“Oh…Wade Gray…yes!”
Filch seemed to have just remembered something and said, "Generally speaking, it does need to be signed by the parents or other guardians, but there are exceptions."
“According to the old rules, mentors and godfathers, just like biological fathers, have the right to discipline their children… This was the case a thousand years ago, and it is certainly the case now.”
Percy frowned and said, "The problem is—why did the professor sign it when Wade Gray's father is clearly alive?"
“How would I know?” Filch said, his eyes clouded. “I don’t concern myself with my students’ family affairs.”
(End of this chapter)