Chapter 1272 All members passed
Excluding Greyback, all 36 werewolves were successfully subdued by Maxma's forces.
With the flames extinguished, Baker and Jason helped Corporal Gene, who was the most seriously injured, out of the factory.
He needed urgent treatment, but fortunately, the "physical-magical composite armor" was able to effectively resist the invasion of dark creatures, and his wounds could be healed.
Vincent and Hunter were pleased with the result; despite it being a targeted attack, their performance far exceeded expectations.
The soldiers stared solemnly at Graybuck, who was tightly bound by countless iron chains, and who had returned to his human form.
“The assessment is over.” Vincent walked toward the soldiers, his gaze sweeping over their tired but proud faces. “Welcome to Maxma. Remember your mission. The world of magic is about to be unveiled. Whether we are ready or not, when that day comes, people will be afraid, confused, and some will want to use magic for evil. Magical creatures will also threaten ordinary people.”
He stood before the soldiers, saying, “When that day comes, you will be the bridge, the shield, and proof that human courage does not depend on bloodline or magic wands.”
Hunter stepped forward, his heart filled with mixed emotions, and finally simply said, "Maxma Season 1, all members pass!"
After saying that, he turned around and boarded the military truck without saying another word.
Vincent noticed that his eyes were red and was somewhat surprised that he also had a sentimental side.
"Someone will be in charge of the cleaning. Now, your task is to get some rest."
Vincent stood there until the last military truck drove away, and behind him appeared several figures wearing white cloaks from the Presbyterian Order.
“Send those werewolves away… never mind, let’s find a place to lock them up first.”
The British Ministry of Magic is so unreliable; it would be the same even if he were sent to Azkaban.
Vincent looked down at Graybury, who was still struggling, and said, "I have another use for this man."
Werewolves generally possess strong physical attributes and regenerative abilities. The pure-blooded werewolf who is tightly bound by iron chains but still does not give up struggling is the best among them.
His crimes are unforgivable. Vincent is not a judge and has no right to try him, but he will not let him off easily either.
A new day begins in the morning light.
Hogwarts Castle has changed somewhat, or more accurately, the people there have changed.
Harry returned to school with his hair cut short, revealing the almost invisible lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
"Did he use some kind of high-end scar-removing magic potion?"
“My mother said that fading scars are a bad omen.”
"He looks...something seems different about him."
Harry ignored the students' chatter and, after finishing breakfast, went with Ron to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
They arrived very early, and the classroom fell silent the moment Snape walked in.
Snape stood behind the podium, his gaze slowly sweeping across every face in the classroom, finally and inevitably lingering on Harry's face.
His hair was cut short, his signature messy bangs were gone, leaving his famous lightning bolt scar exposed without any concealment under the dim classroom lights.
It is no longer a bright red protrusion, but so faint that it almost blends into the skin. If you don't look closely, you can't even notice the faint mark left behind.
Snape's lips seemed to tighten.
After half a month, the old bat finally returned.
He criticized Neville's spellcasting gestures as resembling those of a drunken goblin, mocked Ron's armor charm as flimsy enough to be blown apart by a strong wind, and even coldly commented on Hermione's near-perfect spells: precise, but lacking the necessary adaptability.
But he was unusually silent when he was with Harry.
It wasn't that he ignored him; Snape's gaze swept over Harry several times, each time lingering for a few seconds longer than when he looked at the other students.
When Harry successfully deflected his practice partner Seamus's Stunning Charm with the Ironclad Charm, his dark eyes narrowed for a moment, and his lips moved noticeably, as if he wanted to say something.
But he said nothing in the end, only turning around and announcing in a louder voice than usual: "Potter, demonstrate the next spell. Let's see your Obstacle Charm, targeting the dummy on the left."
Harry walked to the center of the classroom, raised his wand, and chanted the spell: "Obstacles."
The spell was cast perfectly; the dummy was thrown back and slammed against the wall with a dull thud.
The little lions cheered softly, and Snape said dryly, "That's enough, Potter, go back to your seat."
As Harry turned around, their eyes met briefly.
Harry's expression was calm, but his eyes held a hint of inquiry, as if he were waiting for Snape's usual criticism.
However, Snape quickly averted his gaze and turned to the students, "Notice the angle of Mr. Potter's wrist rotation, although his overall posture still lacks..."
He paused, unusually leaving his sentence unfinished, and abruptly turned to the blackboard, "The next spell is the Stunning Spell. Two people per group, begin practicing."
When the bell rang, Snape left the classroom without saying a word, even forgetting to assign homework.
His profile, beneath his greasy black hair, no longer seemed tense, showing a slight, almost imperceptible loosening.
This wasn't a smile, but a deep and complex sense of relief.
"Praise Merlin!" Simo exclaimed as if granted a pardon, tossing the textbooks and parchment off the table.
The old bats have returned, but not completely; their good days are not over yet.
Harry instinctively reached up to touch his forehead, then joined everyone in a hearty laugh.
The disappearance of the scar means that he no longer has some kind of mysterious connection with Voldemort. He is Harry Potter, not the "Boy Who Lived," much less the "Savior."
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On the other side of the classroom, Draco was looking at Harry with a complicated expression.
He didn't know what the disappearance of the scars really meant, but he knew that Harry had changed—become more relaxed and cheerful.
Suddenly, Harry's gaze fell upon them.
Draco quickly looked away and buried himself in tidying up the textbooks on the table.
He moved so slowly that he hadn't finished packing up even after everyone had left the classroom.
"Malfoy." A familiar voice came from the quiet classroom.
Draco turned his head stiffly, a barely perceptible flicker of emotion appearing in his tired eyes. "Is something the matter, Potter?"
Harry walked into the classroom, stood in front of him, and pointed to his forehead. "Look, it's almost gone."
Draco's gaze was involuntarily drawn to it. He stared at the almost invisible scar, his lips pressed tightly together. "So?"
He forced himself to look away. "You want to show off that you've finally gotten rid of that... decoration?"
“It’s not an ornament.” Harry lowered his hand, his eyes unusually bright. “It’s a ‘connection’ that Voldemort imposed on me. It’s a part of me, yet it never truly belonged to me.”
Draco clutched the textbook in his arms, looking somewhat panicked.
“I used to hate this scar,” Harry said softly, “because it meant I was the ‘Boy Who Lived,’ the ‘Savior,’ the one who survived.”
He paused for a moment, then said, "But now I understand that these are all definitions given to me by others, and I have decided to be Harry Potter."
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