Chapter 203: The Magical Script Club's Recruitment

Chapter 203: The Magical Script Club's Recruitment

Later in the afternoon, a brand-new poster was hung on the bulletin board, and from quite a distance, one could clearly read the title on it—Recruitment Notice for the Magical Script Club!

A group of young wizards gathered around the bulletin board, and an enthusiastic student read aloud for everyone to hear:

"We are recruiting the first batch of members for the Magical Script Club, with the following requirements (choose any one of the three, selection will be based on merit):

Roughly master thirty practical ancient magical scripts (to the extent of repairing magical puppets), or be proficient in one practical ancient magical script (see illustration below);

Independently create an alchemical item;

Focus on 'Exploration of Ancient Magical Scripts' and complete a seven-foot-long essay (alternative reference book list attached).

Selection time: the last Saturday morning of this month; Location: Ancient Magical Script classroom;

—Head of the Magical Script Club: Felix Harp, born on September 7, 1993."

Beneath the poster, there was a moving image and a lengthy book list.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed to the front of the crowd, carefully examining the text and illustrations.

"I think the first requirement is the easiest to fulfill," Ron said, staring at the end of the first item. "It's the last sentence—just needing to be proficient in one practical ancient magical script."

His words elicited a chorus of agreement.

"Not at all!" Hermione retorted sharply. She pointed to the animated image on the bottom left of the poster—a young wizard holding a magical symbol, which promptly transformed into a burst of flames. "It's the most difficult of all the requirements. In fact, I believe the third requirement is the simplest."

"Are you kidding, Hermione? It's a seven-foot essay, seven feet!"

"My eyesight is just fine, Ron. In fact, I've written longer essays."

Many students recognized this assistant from the Ancient Magical Script class, especially those who had taken the elective for more than a year. They were familiar with her handwriting.

Privately, many people complained that the second-year Gryffindor was the actual professor of the Ancient Magical Script class, because her delicate handwriting often appeared on the assignments for this class, spanning five different years.

"Miss Granger, I hope you can explain the meaning and difficulty level of each requirement in detail," seventh-year Percy appeared. He had a badge on his chest symbolizing his role as the head of the boys' student council. His tone was dignified and formal. "Your words will be a powerful reference."

Ron whispered to Harry, "Look at him, he's like the spokesperson for the Ministry of Magic, just missing the protruding belly."

"Draco, don't pay attention to these lowlifes. My grandfather's servants are wealthier than their entire family. Being on par with them is the greatest humiliation I've ever faced in my life," Pansy Parkinson said haughtily as she pulled him away.

Ron furrowed his brow and said incredulously, "Are they insane? Why is their presence always so unpleasant?"

Even after dinner and back in the common room, Ron was still bothered by the incident. "Ruined my good mood for the day, Hermione. I mean it, if you become one of the examiners in the selection... hey! Keep your cat away from me!"

Less than three feet away from him, a ginger-furred, squashed-faced big cat was crouching down, its gaze fixed on his pocket.

Hermione grumpily picked up her cat. "Crookshanks, behave." She sat down on the other side of the small round table.

Harry looked down at a piece of parchment covered with names and various lines connecting them.

Hermione glanced at the content and worriedly said, "Harry, are you still preoccupied with that fugitive?"

"I just can't understand how my dad could pick that guy as his best man!" Harry pounded the table in frustration. Even though nearly a week had passed, he couldn't forget his anger at that moment.

Hermione tried to console him, saying, "People can change, Harry."

Curious, Ron asked, "I remember you said you were going to talk to Professor Lupin on Saturday for information. What happened?"

Harry sighed dejectedly. "I didn't meet him. Professor Lupin was sick. I knocked on his door for ages, and he finally replied in a hoarse voice."

"But he didn't outright refuse you, did he? Try again when you get the chance, after class or maybe the next weekend," Ron suggested.

Harry nodded; he was thinking the same thing. There was supposed to be a lesson in Dark Arts Defense today, but Professor Lupin looked too worn out. Harry didn't want to ask for a favor while the professor was teaching; he was afraid Lupin might collapse during class.

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