Seeing that his persuasion yielded no results, Hoffa, accompanied by Olim, left the teachers' dining hall in disappointment. Pierre clearly had no intention of providing any assistance to Hogwarts. Hoffa wasn't surprised by his decision. As Pierre had said, since his policy had already protected the students of Beauxbatons, how could he be expected to make a decision completely contrary to his previous stance?
However, Pierre had never seen Sylby, nor had he encountered the Nightmare God. If a mere gate could stop either of them, Hogwarts wouldn't have needed to replace its doors back then.
But how could Hoffa say such things? It would only increase resentment.
At this point, all he could do was return to Hogwarts as soon as possible and inform Dumbledore of Pierre's decision.
"Bach, this way."
Olim called to him.
"Olim, can I leave Beauxbatons tonight?" Hoffa asked.
Olim noticed the disappointment on his face and softly replied, "I know you're not satisfied with this result, but it's already curfew. No one is allowed to leave. It's better to wait until tomorrow. Let me take you to rest first."
Hoffa sighed. No matter how urgent the situation was, one night wouldn't make much difference.
"Alright," he said.
The two descended the stairs. In the student dining hall below, a group of Beauxbatons students had finished their dinner and were singing a French folk tune in the hall. Whether this was a daily tradition or a rehearsal for the alumni gathering was unclear.
They set up instruments on the dining tables, and as the sound of dripping water echoed, the music began to flow. Leading the song were several French witches, who sang while waving their wands.
"Night falls."
"Where are you?"
"Worry and longing."
"Fill my heart."
"Falling star."
"Divine will."
"Please grant my wish."
"He will depart at dawn."
"Who knows when he will return?"
"Dark forest."
"Vast scorched earth."
"Thorny brambles."
"Do not fear."
"Do not fear."
"Lost wizard."
"Someone is waiting for you to come home."
The song carried a faint sadness, yet it was gentle. Hoffa lowered his head and rubbed his eyes.
Before the song ended, Hoffa turned to Olim and said, "Lead the way."
"Principal did this for our safety, don't be angry," Olim reassured.
"I understand."
Hoffa tilted his head as he spoke.
Olim led Hoffa to a tower, where they ascended via a magical lift. Finally, they reached the top floor. There, Olim tapped a winged horse relief on the wall with her wand. The sculpture spun open, revealing a lounge.
Bowing slightly, Olim guided Hoffa inside. "This is the highest prefect's lounge in Beauxbatons Castle. You're from Ravenclaw, so I'm sure you'll like this place."
Hoffa gazed at the transparent glass ceiling that opened to the sky. The room resembled a giant eagle's nest, indeed quite appealing. Yet, he had no heart to admire the beautiful murals and decorations.
"What do you think? Isn't it beautiful?" Olim asked proudly, as always.
"You've been considerate."
Hoffa absentmindedly stroked the bedpost. "Thank you, Madam Maxime."
Olim froze. "What did you just call me?"
Ah.
Hoffa stiffened and looked up to see Olim's shocked expression.
"Bach, what did you just call me?" she asked, astonished.
Hoffa immediately realized he'd made the same mistake again. Olim was still a student—where would she have a husband? How could she be a madam? He smacked his own head twice and said, "Sorry, my mind was muddled. Don't mind me, I often say nonsense."
Before he could finish, Olim lunged forward, grabbing his shoulders and urgently whispering, "Shh! You mustn't tell anyone."
Hoffa, lost in thought moments before, now noticed Olim's flustered expression and began to grasp the situation. When he finally caught on, he was the one surprised. Folding his arms, he smirked, "Could it be...?"
"How did you find out? I thought no one knew."
Olim panicked, releasing his shoulders and retreating several steps, looking at him in alarm.
Hoffa sat down on the bed leisurely, smiling. "A wizard... if he can't foresee the future, would he still be a wizard?"
Hiss!
Olim's pupils contracted violently. Clutching her ample chest, she gasped, "They said you were Hogwarts' most legendary student. I didn't believe it. A third-year dropout—what promise could he have? I never expected... I was too naive. You're terrifying... how could someone like you exist?!"
Hoffa turned his head and chuckled secretly.
Taking several deep breaths, she noticed that Hoffa didn't respond. Gradually, she started to recover from her fear, which was soon replaced by an unbearable curiosity.
"You really… you really foresaw it? When… when did you see it?"
"The moment I saw you," Hoffa replied, looking at his slender fingers nonchalantly.
(He was watching Olim out of the corner of his eye the entire time.)
"Then…" Olim's face turned slightly red. "Then what do you think of Maxim?"
Hoffa replied indifferently, "Which Maxim?"
"You know which Maxim. Don Quixote Maxim, of course."
Olim answered.
If it weren't for Hoffa's years of experience in masking his emotions, he would have spat out his drink.
Wasn't that the professor of Magical History who was singing during the day? Oh boy, so these two had gotten together? He wasn't sure whether it was because French women were too passionate or because that gentleman had rather unusual tastes.
He carefully observed Olim. The young woman wasn't exactly beautiful, but she wasn't unattractive either. However, her large frame was something most people wouldn't even dare to imagine.
Olim fidgeted, looking at Hoffa expectantly and asking in a low voice, "Hoffa, since you can foresee things, tell me—what kind of person is he really?"
Hoffa thought to himself, How would I know what kind of person Maxim is?
But since he had already put on an act this far, he didn't mind playing along a little longer.
He said calmly, "You're already with him. Don't you know yourself? Why ask me?"
Olim looked aggrieved. "He's the most popular professor at school, always surrounded by girls. Even though he secretly confessed his feelings to me, I still don't feel completely at ease. You know… someone like me is somewhat of an outlier."
"I think if he really liked ordinary girls, he wouldn't have chosen to confess to you in the first place." Hoffa patted his knee and said calmly, "You said it yourself—he has plenty of admirers. If he chose you, it must mean there's something special about you that attracts him, don't you think?"
Olim leaned against a stone sculpture, bit her lip, and gave Hoffa a playful glare, her face slightly flushed.
But in the next moment, she grew worried again. "Of course, I understand Don Quixote's feelings. But he is still a teacher. Even though I've graduated, Principal Pierre has kept the school sealed, and I can't leave. Officially, I'm still his student. If this continues, I'm really scared… Hoffa, you said you saw the future. So tell me, what exactly did you see?"
Hoffa's heart stirred as he keenly sensed an opportunity.
So, he slowly sat up straight and said, "I saw that after the great war, you two would live a happy life together."
Olim excitedly covered her mouth, but in the next instant, she realized something was off.
"A great war? What do you mean?"
Hoffa said seriously, "Olim, Beauxbatons must take action. The wizarding world is one entity. If you don't resist while you still can, magic will slowly drain away like a frog being boiled in warm water—it will kill you all.
Even though the students of Hogwarts are outside, there are still many people inside who haven't lost their magic. Magic is tied to individuals. Power that doesn't rightfully belong to someone will never truly be theirs. Simply closing your doors won't solve anything. Look at your own school—aren't there already students in Beauxbatons experiencing magical depletion?"
Olim let out a long sigh, shook her head, and said, "Hoffa, do you think I don't understand that? To tell you the truth, Don Quixote and I have indeed considered investigating the depletion of magic. He isn't the type to be content with being confined within the castle every day either. But we have no way to influence the decisions of the school's upper management."
"I see," Hoffa smiled bitterly. "Forget it. Just pretend I never said anything."
Saying this, he waved his hand, signaling Olim to leave.
However, Olim didn't leave. She leaned against the wall, hesitant.
Seeing that she still seemed to have something on her mind, Hoffa asked, "What is it, Olim?"
Olim remained silent for a long time before finally making up her mind. She said, "Hoffa, I also think doing nothing is a problem. But I really don't have the ability to help you. However, in three days, the school will be hosting its centennial alumni gathering. Pierre will be inviting some influential wizards to attend. I'm sure you must know a few powerful wizards among them, right?"
Hoffa thought of Nicolas Flamel.
He nodded.
"Yes."
Olim continued, "I think if you can gain enough support at the alumni gathering, you might be able to change Pierre's mind. You know, a school isn't just controlled by one person."
She didn't say more, but Hoffa already understood her meaning. He immediately stood up and firmly grasped her hand.
"I understand, Olim. I'll stay for three more days."
Olim quickly withdrew her hand and waved dismissively. "I didn't say anything. I'm just a low-ranking prefect—I don't know anything."
Hoffa smiled at her, thinking to himself, You'll be the headmistress one day.
After making her suggestion, Olim hurried toward the door. But just as she reached it, she couldn't help but turn back to look at Hoffa and ask, "Hoffa, what you told me… is it really true?"
Hoffa was momentarily stunned, then nodded.
"I saw the future. You really will be Madame Maxim."
Olim was overjoyed. She hesitated for a moment, then asked again, still unsure, "Do you think I'm doing the right thing? I always worry… You know, relationships between teachers and students are frowned upon no matter where you go."
Hoffa clasped his hands behind his back and let out a rebellious smirk. "As long as you're with the person you truly love, what do rules matter? Let them be."
"Yes, that's right."
Olim's eyes lit up.
"As expected of Ravenclaw's Hoffa Bach. You're even more charming than the books describe."
Hoffa smiled awkwardly.
"Good night, Hoffa," Olim said.
"Good night, Madame Maxim," Hoffa replied softly.
The door closed.
Hoffa lay back on his bed, staring at the starry sky above, letting out a long sigh. He muttered to himself,
"Hoffa, Hoffa… Who are you to tell others what to do?"
(End of chapter)
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