The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 149 Significance and Declaration

Chapter 149 Significance and Declaration

"When can I come back here to try again?" Harry couldn't help but ask, his voice filled with an irrepressible longing. Although he had been thoroughly humiliated in that unpredictable corridor—his robes were stained with multicolored ink, his glasses were blurred, and his hair was dyed a ridiculous color by a sudden burst of powder—now, as his rapid breathing gradually calmed and his heartbeat stopped pounding in his chest, an even stronger impulse awakened within him.

He wanted to try again, immediately.

He wanted to get through this corridor.

"Next week," Lynch replied.

Harry noticed that the other person's lips seemed to lift very slightly, revealing a fleeting smile.

"This was originally part of your regular course content. From now on, you'll have plenty of time to spend in these facilities." He saw the flame in Harry's eyes grow higher and brighter—it was an expression Lynch knew all too well, a mixture of stubborn defiance, a roused competitive spirit, and an almost greedy curiosity for unknown challenges.

He really does resemble Lily and James, both in appearance and personality.

Lin Qi thought to himself.

He ruffled Harry's hair. "But now, go back. Your detention is over for today. Go back and take a good shower, Harry. You smell...not very good."

Harry grinned somewhat sheepishly, then finally turned and walked toward the door, his steps still a little unsteady, whether from exhaustion or excitement, it was hard to tell.

Lynch stood at the classroom door, watching Harry's slightly kneeling yet light-footed figure disappear around the corner of the stone corridor, the air still faintly carrying the scent of ink mixed with magical glitter from the boy's clothes.

Just then, a cold, smooth voice, like something seeping from the depths of a cellar, came from behind him.

"I'm really curious, Professor Lynch."

The shadows seemed to come alive, slowly peeling away and coalescing from the edges of the stone walls beneath the torches in the corridor.

Snape stood there, his black robes almost blending into the gloom, his face bearing his usual, undisguised mockery.

He slowly walked out and stood in front of Lin Qi. His gaze swept over Lin Qi's shoulder like a cold needle across the quiet corridor deep inside the classroom.

"To expend such enormous effort and resources just to build such a huge and ridiculous toy?" Snape's lips moved slightly, but his deep voice clearly reached Lynch's ears, each word veiled in a thin layer of frost. "Do you really think that Potter's pathetic, reckless courage, and the clumsy, ridiculous antics of his companions inside, can teach them how to deal with the Dark Lord's threat?"

Lin Qi did not reply immediately.

He simply watched quietly in the direction Harry had left, and after a moment, he slowly turned to look at Snape. His face showed no sign of being offended, but rather a calm understanding.

"Toys? No, Severus." Lynch's voice wasn't loud, but it echoed clearly in the classroom. "This is a highly realistic combat training ground—its sole purpose is to let students experience what failure, pressure, and real chaos are like in advance, under absolutely safe conditions."

He walked to the entrance of the corridor, his tone becoming more serious, "So that when their hearts are pounding at two hundred, their vision is blurred, their feet are slipping, and all they hear are whistling sounds and echoes of explosions, what they learn is not to scream, but to think."

Lin Qi raised his hand, his fingers tracing the runes on the edge of the wooden door. The alchemical mechanisms in the corridor all shrunk back to their original positions and fell into slumber.

"To cast spells accurately? Every wizard can do that during training."

"But I know better than anyone that real battles never give you a steady rhythm and a clear view."

Lynch's fingertips traced through the air, as if outlining unseen trajectories of danger: "These mechanisms aren't meant to torture them, but to force them to develop muscle memory and tactical instincts—to learn to calmly observe the environment, judge the direction of threats, use cover to reduce exposure, control the rhythm of spellcasting while moving, and even react the instant they are hit."

Snape let out a cold snort that almost disappeared into the shadows, his lips tightening into an even thinner line.

But Lynch did not stop. His gaze became even more profound, as if piercing through the spell classroom in front of him and looking into a more distant and darker place.

"You know better than most of the rose-tinted wizards, Severus," Lynch's voice deepened. "Voldemort will return. It's not a question of whether he will, but when and how."

"His return will bring a difficult and dark period, affecting everyone in the wizarding world." He paused briefly, letting the weight of his words weigh heavily on the air, "and the children of our school will be the first to suffer."

"Children are the most vulnerable group during wartime. That's why I was able to convince Dumbledore to implement this curriculum."

He turned and stared intently at Snape, his eyes burning: "All I'm doing now is so that on that day, these kids who haven't even graduated yet will have a little more clarity, a little more chance of survival. Even if this training only increases their chances of escaping from the dark wizard's wand at some fatal moment in the future—then every Galleon and every bit of effort I've poured into this today will have been worthwhile."

Then, his tone abruptly changed, a sharp glint in his eyes: "Besides, who said I was going to send Harry to face Voldemort?"

Lynch's gaze was like a tempered steel blade, piercing straight into Snape's unfathomable black eyes, and the air seemed to freeze because of this question.

"If one day," Lynch said firmly, "I take no protective measures and leave Harry—or any of the students—to face Voldemort alone—then I will be dead. Completely dead, having lost even the last bit of ability to prevent the tragedy from happening."

Snape's expression remained frozen, but the sharp sarcasm he had displayed earlier seemed to have been replaced by something deeper and more complex.

He fell silent, for so long that even the torches on the corridor walls seemed to dim.

Finally, his black robe moved almost imperceptibly.

"I hope your—" "Practical training ground," Professor Lynch. "He finally spoke in a low voice, the coldness in his tone undiminished, yet strangely tinged with a complex meaning, "ultimately forging not only more inflated courage and—more expertise in soiling robes."

After speaking, he suddenly turned around, and the black robe billowed up like a giant bat wing that captured all the light, silently swallowing up the deep shadows of the corridor.

Lin Qi was left alone, standing there, his gaze once again fixed on the silent corridor.