Chapter 9: Make It Your Duty to Destroy Voldemort!

"I've heard you've been adapting well lately."

Professor McGonagall's sharp, but not unkind voice finally broke the silence.

Cedric nodded with a bright smile. "Yes, I met Professor Snape, Mr. Hagrid, and Mr. Filch. They're all very kind!"

McGonagall arched a brow. Kind? Those three?

She couldn't help but sigh. "If you think those three are kind, then I suppose Peeves must be the epitome of warmth and friendliness."

Cedric gave an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, as long as you're settling in." McGonagall's voice softened a bit. "I haven't been particularly busy recently. If there's anything you're interested in learning, I could spare some time to tutor you."

Such an offer was rare.

Professor McGonagall wasn't known for giving private lessons, especially not to first-years. This was a golden opportunity—and Cedric knew it.

He immediately raised his hand, summoning a book with a smooth motion of his wand. Emery Switch's Elementary Transformation Guide flew into his palm.

The worn, brown cover of the textbook bore the creases of many hands before his. Cedric traced his fingers across its surface with interest.

"I know Transfiguration is a difficult branch of magic," he said thoughtfully. "So I've only been reading so far, not practicing."

McGonagall's eyes gleamed with quiet approval. But she had also noticed something else.

"Your Summoning Charm has improved," she observed. "The way you called that book... it was quite precise."

Cedric gave a small, modest smile. "Haha, maybe?"

In truth, he hadn't been practicing the Summoning Charm—or the Flying Charm—much lately. But after receiving 1,000 experience points from Snape's "recognition," his magic power had increased from 32 to 42 points.

A full 10-point jump.

That was nearly a one-third increase, a significant boost in his magical aptitude.

The higher his magic power, the easier it became for him to cast all kinds of spells—whether simple or complex. Cedric had already made it his priority to raise that number to 50. He had a gut feeling that 50 was a key threshold—something transformative would happen when he reached it.

And Cedric had every intention of finding out.

"Transfiguration must be approached step by step," McGonagall warned, returning to the earlier topic. "You mustn't attempt to transform into a person right away."

Then, as if remembering something, her expression brightened. "There is, however, another spell I think you might enjoy. It's quite advanced—but also very interesting. Would you like to learn it?"

Cedric tilted his head, intrigued. "What spell?"

"The Patronus Charm."

Cedric's eyes lit up.

The Patronus Charm?

Immediately, he understood. This wasn't just an offer. It was a test—a subtle one, perhaps orchestrated by Dumbledore himself.

The Patronus Charm was known for one key trait—it revealed the caster's true heart. A Patronus wasn't something one could fake. It required pure, focused happiness, a strong sense of purpose. And most importantly, it reflected the soul.

If Dumbledore wanted to know who Cedric truly was, this spell would certainly do it.

But for now, he kept those thoughts hidden and instead grinned brightly. "This is an advanced spell, right? I'd love to learn it!"

And it wasn't a complete lie.

The Patronus Charm was extremely useful, especially against Dementors and other dark creatures. It was one of the signature spells that distinguished powerful witches and wizards. And the Patronus itself? It was more than just a shield. It could carry messages, navigate terrain, and serve as a beacon of hope.

Interestingly, Cedric had just unlocked something on his status screen that coincided perfectly with this moment.

Template Card: Argus Filch

Talent: Beloved Lolis (An upgraded version of pet affinity talent, now A-rank).

Life Wish List:

Become a true wizard.

Be respected by students.

By completing these goals, Cedric could further upgrade the talent—possibly even to S-rank—and remove restrictions on how many template cards he could use at once.

What surprised Cedric, though, was the nature of Filch's wish list.

He had expected it to contain something petty or cruel—perhaps a desire to punish students or enforce harsh discipline.

But the reality was different. Much different.

Perhaps Filch's stern demeanor and cruel behavior weren't driven by sadism, but rather by desperation. As a Squib living in a magical world, he had no means to defend himself or maintain order among mischievous young wizards. Fear, then, became his only weapon. A way to make students think twice before defying him.

And yet, even after the final battle at Hogwarts—when the dust had barely settled and the survivors were still catching their breath—it had been Filch who picked up a broom and quietly began cleaning the ruins of the school.

No celebration. No applause. Just quiet dedication.

To Cedric, that spoke volumes.

Maybe it was this understanding, this respect, that allowed him to gain Filch's recognition so quickly.

The world truly was a strange and wonderful place.

"When shall we start?" Cedric asked, snapping back to the present.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by his enthusiasm. Not many students were this eager to learn, especially when it came to advanced magic.

Few knew this, but Professor McGonagall was a master of the Patronus Charm.

In The Deathly Hallows, she had once summoned not one, but three silver cats simultaneously to alert the other house heads of Harry Potter's return to Hogwarts. To split one's Patronus into three and still maintain its strength was a testament to immense magical power.

"Very well," she said with a faint smile. "Starting tomorrow, I'll tutor you for an hour every evening."

"Brilliant!"

Cedric pulled out his personal schedule booklet without hesitation. Every detail of his daily routine was recorded in it—precise, methodical.

Two hours of boxing practice in the morning.

Two hours of spell training.

An hour lunch break.

An afternoon session of focused spell work.

One hour of review time.

And two hours of reading.

He turned to a fresh page, copied the previous schedule exactly, then tapped the page with his fingertip.

The ink began to swirl like a school of tadpoles, rearranging itself. Within moments, the evening reading time had been reduced by one hour—and replaced with "Patronus Practice with Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall, curious, peered at the booklet.

"Did you write all this yourself?"

"Yes," Cedric replied modestly.

She turned to earlier pages, only to discover that his schedule dated back… years.

"Eleven years old. Ten. Nine. Eight… Five?" she whispered, eyes widening.

She flipped through the pages rapidly, her voice rising in genuine disbelief. "You've been managing your own schedule since you were five years old?!"

For someone as strict and composed as Professor McGonagall, her reaction was almost shocking.

Cedric smiled sheepishly. "It's not that big a deal. I was just a bit… precocious."

But inwardly, he was starting to panic.

Don't turn to the last page. Don't turn to the last page.

Of course, that glance of concern betrayed him.

McGonagall, following his eyes, turned to the final page—and gasped.

There, written in bold capital letters, were the words:

MAKE IT YOUR MISSION TO DESTROY VOLDEMORT!!!

She raised her hand to her mouth in sheer surprise.

"Oh… my… goodness!"

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