Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 17 Draco: Professor Snape has a crush on my mom! ?

Melvin put down his glass, unconcerned. He was always friendly and united with his colleagues. "I heard that Professor Snape gave the freshmen an introductory Potions class this afternoon. Gryffindor and Slytherin took the class together. How was it going?"

"Nothing special. This is the worst freshman class ever."

Snape raised his eyes indifferently, his tone icy. "I didn't expect them to truly grasp the wonders of potions, but their performance is truly disappointing. The vast majority of freshmen don't understand the wonderful magic of a simmering cauldron, nor do they understand how captivating those magical liquids are. Many don't even believe potions are magic. They're only interested in subjects that involve silly wand-waving."

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick's smiles froze.

Transfiguration and Charms were what he called silly wand-waving subjects.

The two exchanged glances, a similar look of helplessness on their faces. They knew that Snape's words were purely out of character and had no intention of targeting them, but they still felt inexplicably offended.

“It’s worse than previous years…”

Melvin didn't listen to his mumbling and continued, "To deepen my understanding of the British wizarding world, I've read some materials and noticed that some of this class's freshmen had already made a name for themselves before they even started school. For example, the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter from Gryffindor, and the pure-blooded boy, Draco Malfoy from Slytherin. I used to think they were quite talented."

Dumbledore held the silver spoon, tasting the sweet cream while listening to their conversation without joining in.

“Fame isn’t everything.”

Snape sneered, his sarcasm evident in his tone. "That Potter is just a fool with an empty reputation. He's clueless and arrogant. He can't even answer the most basic Potions questions. After being criticized, he even tried to talk back to the teacher. In some ways, he's even worse than the Muggle-born Granger."

"..."

Dumbledore frowned slightly and looked at Harry at the Gryffindor table with a deep gaze.

"There must be some misunderstanding here. Although Potter is often late for class, his performance in class is quite good."

"He's an honest and kind child."

"Yeah yeah……"

Several professors who were listening made a few explanations, and Dumbledore's expression became gentle again, but unfortunately Snape didn't listen.

"What about Draco Malfoy? From what I've heard, the Malfoy family is very influential here, with ample financial resources and generous and enthusiastic spirit. Every year, they donate to institutions like the Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's Hospital, and the Quidditch Committee, and they've made friends with many influential people. As a result, this young Mr. Malfoy has attracted attention and gained some reputation before even entering the school."

"Just barely passing..." Snape said casually.

"Is it because the questions you asked are too difficult, Professor?"

“These are all basic knowledge from textbooks.”

Snape glanced at him, not understanding why this fellow named Lewynter was so concerned about the freshmen. Feeling irritated, he raised his voice slightly and said, "Potter doesn't know anything about bezoars, Aconitum, or even what the mixture of powdered narcissus root and wormwood extract makes!"

The front row of the Slytherin House long table was very close, and when they heard the voice of their head of house, the students were silent for a few seconds and began to move aside quietly.

Draco Malfoy was one of them. His eyes rolled around, and instead of moving away, he moved closer, wanting to listen to more of the professor's criticism of Potter.

Less than a week into school, he and the savior boy had already become enemies.

"Narcissus root powder mixed with wormwood extract is the Living Hell Decoction," Melvin replied softly, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Also known as the Water of Life and Death, it's a powerful sleeping pill."

Dumbledore took a bite of the cake, and looking at the smile on his face, he felt that it was quite meaningful.

"Professor Lewynter's answer is correct. He is much better than these freshmen." Snape said sarcastically.

"My Potions grades were average at school, but I was very interested in legends and stories. I read a lot of miscellaneous books, so I learned some interesting facts about potions."

Listening to Melvin's slow tone, Snape frowned, feeling a little uneasy.

"Daffodils are also known as golden spikes. In the eyes of Greek poets, the golden spikes' bare stems, unpleasant smell, and slightly dark purple flowers in winter correspond to the pale death and darkness of the underworld. In Muggle stories, Hades, the god of the underworld, places the souls of the dead in the wilderness full of daffodils."

Melvin eloquently commented: "On the stage, the pale, grayish ochre creates a dark color that perfectly embodies the emptiness and sadness of the underworld. Homer's Odyssey mentions that the souls of heroes slain in the Trojan War reside in the ochre fields."

The other professors listened with great interest, but Snape alone felt a faint sense of irritation rising in his heart.

One of the symbols of daffodils is death, while mugwort, with its unique bitterness, is often associated with pain, sorrow, and deep regret. "Regret prevents rest, and the only way to find peace is to drink the water of life and death," which is the origin of the name of the Living Hell Decoction.

Dumbledore's silver spoon stopped at the edge of the porcelain plate, and a look of reminiscence appeared in his eyes.

The other professors also slowed down their meals, appreciating the name of the potion.

"Greek mythology also tells another story about the daffodil. One day, the beautiful young man Narkissus discovered his own reflection in the water, unaware it was actually himself. He fell head over heels in love with it, unable to extricate himself. Finally, one day, seeking pleasure, he drowned and was transformed into a daffodil. Muggle psychologists later called this disorder of self-love narcissism or daffodil syndrome."

"..."

Snape was just impatient: "What exactly do you want to say?"

"Psychology is a very important field in Muggle science. Psychologists believe that everyone's language and behavior in daily life reflect their inner emotions, or subconscious mind."

Melvin paused for a moment and then spoke slowly, "So I'm wondering if choosing the Hell Potion as the investigation question reflects Professor Snape's inner emotions, or perhaps some subconscious thought that he himself is unable to perceive."

"Absurd..."

Those green eyes came to mind, and despite Snape's angrily denying it, waves of emotion still inevitably surged in his heart, and he was even a little panicked.

The eyes of those present who knew the situation flickered as they glanced at Snape and Melvin with a thoughtful expression.

Is this Muggle knowledge?

In some ways, it's even scarier than Legilimency.

"Although it may be a bit presumptuous, I still want to tell you my guess..."

Snape's pupils contracted and he was about to scold and stop him.

Dumbledore also looked reluctant and was about to call for a stop.

At this tense moment, Melvin suddenly spoke faster: "As far as I know, Draco Malfoy's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, was named after the story of the daffodil, Narcissa.

"If I'm not mistaken, Professor Snape, you once had a crush on Draco's mother, so you used the Living Hell Potion to express your regret from your youth."

There was astonishment in the guest of honor seats.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick stared blankly with their eyes wide open.

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Even Professor Quirrell in the corner stood there in a daze, stuffing the beef ribs into his mouth and forgetting to chew.

"You have admired Narcissa..."

Snape's brain seemed to be bombarded by something, a bombardment from Muggle psychology, and he was unable to react for a moment.

"Clang..." The metal cutlery fell from her hand and hit the edge of the ceramic plate with a crisp, loud sound.

The professor in the guest of honor seat looked in the direction of the sound and saw Draco Malfoy, who was in the front row of the Slytherin table, jump off the bench and run towards the door in a panic.

Draco didn't even have time to wipe his mouth, didn't care that his platinum hair was stained with oil, and didn't care about any table manners. He ran towards the Slytherin common room with his short legs as fast as he could.

"Huh...huh..."

No wonder his mother specifically told him before school started that their dean would look after him.

Professor Snape did have a preference for him. Granger was so smart and was good at making potions, but he was the only one the professor praised that afternoon.

No wonder... no wonder!
Father must be informed as soon as possible.

Watching the freshman's back gradually disappear into the distance, the professors in the guest seats withdrew their gazes and subconsciously looked at Snape. Then, realizing something was wrong, they looked at Melvin next to them, but they couldn't help but glance at Snape out of the corner of their eyes.

"Melvin Levant!"

Snape's forehead twitched with anger, his long-cold face flushed red, and his lips moved: "I was just testing Potter's potion foundation!"

"I believe you, Professor."

Melvin nodded, his expression serious. "I understand. Psychology is only an empirical discipline, and the above inferences are just guesswork."

"you you!"

Snape was speechless and turned to look at the other professors.

The other professors also nodded, but avoided his gaze.

Dumbledore lowered his head and concentrated on scraping the cake crumbs from the plate. Only some scraps were left, less than half a spoonful in size, and could not be seen without careful observation.

Professor Flitwick, taking advantage of his small stature, buried his head under the table, unable to stop his shoulders from shaking.

Professor Sprout nudged him gently a few times, trying to remind him not to go too far, as they had been colleagues for more than ten years.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, trying to remain serious. If you ignore the slight curve at the corner of her mouth...

It’s not that they don’t believe Snape. After all, when Snape was in school, several professors were already teaching at Hogwarts, and they all knew what happened.

But Melvin's speculation, when put to the usually gloomy Snape, could not help but make people laugh.

Snape's breathing seemed to become heavier. He glared at Melvin several times. Considering the speed of the owl messenger, he had no time to continue arguing with him, so he threw up his sleeves and left angrily.

The guest of honor seat fell silent, everyone was making eye contact.

Is this Muggle psychology?
It's even more terrifying than the mysterious man's black magic.

Melvin took a sip of his wine and said casually, "It suddenly occurred to me that the asphodel root powder in the Living Hell Potion isn't actually narcissus, but a type of lily."

Dumbledore lowered his blue eyes and remained silent for a moment.

……

It was late at night, and lights were about to be turned off.

The second floor of Hogwarts Castle.

Melvin climbed the stairs.

After a week of exploration and familiarization, he had walked through almost every tower of the castle and had thoroughly mastered the transformation patterns of common staircases and doors. Only a few rooms remained to be explored, such as the principal's office, the restricted corridor on the fourth floor, and the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor.

It’s not that I don’t know the location and how to open it, but I’m not in a hurry and want to leave some suspense and take it slow.

Today I toured the North Tower, visited the Divination classroom and Professor Trelawney’s office, and on the way I met the portrait of Sir Cadogan, a very chivalrous portrait, and we had a very pleasant chat.

Melvin passed the staircase landing, stopped, and looked around suspiciously. He seemed to hear a faint sound of muffled sobbing.

"Is there a Howling Banshee wandering around the castle at night? Headmaster Dumbledore never said anything..."

Melvin looked carefully for a while and then followed the sound of the crying.

A few minutes later, a fair and tender little chubby boy was found in the corner of the aisle.

The white and tender here is an objective description. His skin had suffered corrosion and damage not long ago, and was then regenerated by the magic potion. The skin is fresh and tender, white with a pinkish tint.

"Neville Longbottom?" Melvin called out his name.

Neville, who was squatting on the ground, raised his head, with a sad face and sobbing: "Professor...Professor."

"What are you doing hiding here?"

Neville pulled out a crystal ball that flashed red light and explained vaguely, "I'm looking for my password list. It's gone since I woke up in the school infirmary."

"How did you get into the school infirmary?"

"Seamus sent me there."

"...How did you get hurt?"

"I knocked over the cauldron in Potions class this afternoon."

"..."

It took Melvin a few minutes to process what had happened to him.

The Gryffindor common room required a password to enter, but the child had a bad memory since childhood and could not remember the password that changed regularly, so he wrote the password on a piece of parchment.

In the afternoon Potions class, he learned to brew a potion to treat boils. He remembered the steps incorrectly and made a corrosive and vicious potion. Unfortunately, he knocked over the crucible and the potion splashed all over him, corroding his skin and clothes. After a simple treatment by Snape, he was transferred to the school infirmary, drank the medicine given by Madam Pomfrey, and fell asleep.

When he woke up, it was already dark. He felt in his pocket and the password list was gone. He could only wander around the castle looking for it.

I didn't find the password list, but the professor did find me.

Melvin first observed Neville's condition. His physical injuries had healed, but his mental state was not very good, so he felt a little relieved.

Then he stared at the memory ball in his hand for a while. It was a small crystal ball with red mist swirling inside, which gave him a headache.

This should clearly be the dean's concern, so how come he, a professor of the elective course, encountered it?

(End of this chapter)