Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 307 I will resurrect Tom!

In the dimly lit underground classroom, silver plates lay scattered on the floor, and bowls still held the remaining cream of mushroom soup. The rich, emulsified fat, under the candlelight, had the color and texture of milk. Two close friends from their student days were about to have a physical altercation.

One cowered timidly, while the other's eyes blazed with anger.

Sirius stood in front of Peter, his tall, thin shadow stretching long and shrouding Peter in dim light. Peter turned to look at the open door.

"After all these years since graduation, are you still fooling around like you did in your student days?" someone said at the door.

Sirius looked outside and saw the old headmaster with his white hair and beard, followed by several old professors including McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout.

I had observed these professors from afar when I was lurking in the Forbidden Forest before, but I had never seen them as clearly as I had now, face to face. They were all old wizards with profound magical powers and long lifespans, but after so many years, I could still see the marks that time had left on them.

“Headmaster Dumbledore…Professor McGonagall…” Sirius couldn’t quite describe the feelings in his heart at that moment.

Professor Flitwick, the Ravenclaw Dean, stroked his beard: "Why didn't you greet us? We're your professors too. Is it because we're not Gryffindor?"

Sirius was taken aback and said somewhat awkwardly, "Huh? Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Merry Christmas."

Snape silently took a step forward, straightened his collar, and highlighted the Slytherin serpent emblem on his chest.

Without a word, everything was understood.

Sirius Black glared angrily. The other professors were all old professors who had taught and cared for him during his student days. What was the meaning of this snotty-nosed guy jumping out at this time?
Flitwick and Sprout were all smiles.

Dumbledore approached him, paused for a moment, and sighed: "I'm very sorry, Sirius, after Voldemort's downfall, too many things got on my mind, causing me to neglect your case. I didn't even think to investigate it carefully for the next twelve years."

Sirius's eyes reddened slightly, and he called out in a hoarse voice, "Headmaster Dumbledore."

With the Black family gone, apart from his two married cousins, he had no other relatives left in the world. Facing these professors, he felt a bittersweet feeling, like a child seeing their parents.

Regret, joy, warmth, and a hint of unspeakable grievance.

Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder, then turned to another student in the corner, his smile fading: "You should go back and see your grandmother; she's aged very quickly these past few years."

At Dumbledore's age, he had seen many elderly wizards. Old Mrs. Peter was relatively young among the younger generation, yet he said she aged very quickly, proving that she was indeed emaciated and unrecognizable.

Peter froze, looked down at the pumpkin juice in his hand, and the image of the old woman he hadn't seen in a long time floated into his mind. Her face was now blurred, but her kind voice drifted back to his ears from over a decade ago.

"Gryffindor! I knew it! Grandma's Little Pettigrew is the bravest!"

"Don't look so sad! You may not be the best student, but you are Grandma's best child."

"Grandma is fine. It's so chaotic outside right now, you don't need to come back to see her. Just stay hidden."

"..."

He still remembers the pain of losing his parents, feeling like he had been abandoned by the whole world. During that time, every time he was alone, he wondered if it was his fault... It was his elderly grandmother who pulled him out of poverty, raised him, and sent him to Hogwarts.

At that time, his grandmother was also happy that he was sorted into Gryffindor. Looking at the old witch's smile, he felt as if he had found courage and longed to repay that old woman when he grew up.

……

At midnight, in the castle's basement kitchen, the house-elves were busy again, on the orders of Headmaster Dumbledore to prepare temporary cells for the two prisoners.

The whole process was short and convenient. Before Hogwarts was built as a school, the underground level was originally a dungeon. All that was needed was to select two abandoned classrooms, clean and tidy them up a bit, and find some old beds in the storeroom so that the two prisoners could move in comfortably.

A series of warning spells were placed at the entrance, a spyglass was hung on the wall, and portraits and ghosts took turns patrolling, so that even if you turned into a rat, you could not escape.

In the Potions classroom, Snape and Sirius stared at each other coldly. Sirius looked down at the mess on the podium and silently followed Professor Flitwick out, moving towards the prepared cell.

Regardless, he is now a wanted criminal, so he still has to maintain appearances.

Moreover, the cells were furnished to dormitory standards, complete with fireplaces and blankets, making them far more comfortable than those in Azkaban.

Peter followed Professor Sprout dejectedly, moving slowly. He only glanced up at Melvin as he passed him, trembling, without saying a word.

"Get a good night's sleep. The Aurors will come over tomorrow morning."

Dumbledore gave them his final instructions, then turned to the young professor beside him: "It's late, but I'm still quite energetic. I have some details I'd like to know. Would you like to come back to my office with me, Melvin?"

Melvin raised an eyebrow: "Do you have hot cocoa?"

Dumbledore couldn't help but smile: "I was just about to have a drink."

……

It was already past midnight when I got back to the principal's office.

The ceiling is painted with a star map of the Milky Way, including the nine planets, including Pluto, and inlaid with gems of different colors. It emits a faint glow in the dim light, but it immediately dims and becomes less noticeable after candles and oil lamps are lit.

Fawkes the Phoenix, huddled inside the Sorting Hat, heard someone enter, opened his sleepy eyes, and saw Dumbledore and Melvin. He then began to grumble and complain.

The crying startled the portraits of the principals behind him. Just as the old principal, Blake, was about to complain, his mouth was covered by the portraits of Fordske and others, who kept blinking their eyes to convey their feelings.

These two guys must have something important to discuss if they come to the office so late.

Across a desk laden with silverware, Dumbledore and Melvin sat facing each other, each with a steaming cup of cocoa in front of them, brought from the kitchen and at just the right temperature.

Dumbledore took a sip of hot cocoa and let out a long sigh: "According to Remus's account of the adventure, the spacetime rift is located between the past and the future. I still can't figure out, Melvin, how you located it?"

“They have the marks I left behind. These marks are like anchors, which can lock onto their location and then transmit the anchor information to the time converter.”

Melvin spoke casually, as if he were recounting something utterly ordinary, but to successive principals back home, it sounded as absurd as putting an elephant in a refrigerator.

What kind of imprint can transcend time and space to transmit anchor points?
How do you pass abstract time information to a mindless time converter? What is this guy even talking about?
"..."

Dumbledore blinked his azure eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he quickly understood the words: "Incomprehensible magic. To be honest, if it were me, I probably wouldn't be able to bring them back from that time and space. Melvin, you are walking a path that no one has ever walked before."

“No, many wizards have tried. I see traces of those who came before me everywhere along this path.” Melvin looked expectantly at Dumbledore. “Would the Headmaster be interested in joining us?”

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head: "If I were decades younger, I would gladly accept your invitation, but I am already 113 years old."

"Oh……"

Melvin didn't believe a single word.

Even if he were fifty years younger, Dumbledore would still refuse.

His path was to continuously expand his influence, making his name known to wizards all over the world, thereby increasing his magic power and exploring the ultimate mysteries of magic. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had been deliberately restraining his influence for decades, locking himself in this office.

"Any other questions? You called me here specifically, surely it wasn't to discuss magic?"

“I do have other doubts, about that Death Eater spy Peter Pettigrew.”

Dumbledore sipped his hot cocoa: "As an unforgivable criminal, his true nature has been exposed to the entire wizarding world. He will spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, and even as an Animagus, he will find it difficult to escape. Faced with a terrible future, Little Pettigrew calmly finished his Christmas dinner."

“Perhaps he has given up the struggle.” Melvin shrugged. “He lacked courage when he was young, and he’s tired of hiding all these years. He wants to live out the rest of his life in peace and thinks being a prisoner in Azkaban isn’t so bad.”

"In fact, Pettigrew possesses the qualities of Gryffindor. He is not lacking in courage; he could become a spy for Tom, fake his death to escape, and hide in the Weasley family for thirteen years..."

Dumbledore stared into Melvin's eyes, paused briefly, and said, "A wizard like this would be willing to be locked up in Azkaban unless there is something outside that he fears more."

"Things that are even more frightening..."

Melvin pretended to ponder: "For example, Sirius's anger, Percy and Ron's anger, Mrs. Weasley's anger, not to mention the anger of the vast wizarding community after the news was revealed."

“Melvin, from the time we met on Broadway until now, from your transition from stage effects artist to professor, your acting has always been terrible. You lie very casually, without caring whether you can fool others,” Dumbledore sighed.

Melvin, who thought his acting was superb, was criticized because the old headmaster had bad eyesight. Nevertheless, he obediently put down the hot cocoa and asked, "Professor, what do you want to know?"

“Remus told me that when you encountered the Boggart in the spacetime rift, Littlepie’s fear was you… If I’m not mistaken, you knew about Scabbers’ true identity a long time ago, and had contact with him, and even knew the truth about it a long time ago, right?”

Dumbledore looked directly into Melvin's eyes, his deep blue eyes reflecting a soft candlelight.

"When did you find out, Principal?"

"When Sirius first barged into the school..."

Dumbledore said slowly, “For a few weeks after the start of the semester, Harry sought help everywhere to investigate the truth of that night… Remus once told me that you told Harry about what happened back then at the Leaky Cauldron, and I noticed that you seemed to be guiding Harry to find the answers… Not only Harry, but also Remus and Severus, you guided them to analyze the doubts and rethink the details they had overlooked.”

"And Peter, how are you sure I'm in contact with him?"

“Just now in the underground classroom, everyone was there, but Little Pettigrew didn’t seem to care about us old professors. Instead, he kept glancing at you, this unfamiliar professor. His attention was on you.” Dumbledore moistened his throat with hot cocoa.

Melvin stopped hiding it: "Well, through some channels that are not convenient to disclose, I knew a long time ago that Scabbers was Peter. When the Basilisk was around in our second year, he tried to escape, and I persuaded him to go back to Ron's side and continue to lie low."

"It was you who lured him close to Severus and revealed your whereabouts..."

Dumbledore looked up into his deep eyes: "Melvin, manipulating people's hearts is like dark magic; when you cast a spell on others, you are also sinking into the abyss yourself."

“Black magic, when used properly, can also have good results,” Melvin said calmly.

Dumbledore sighed. "After all this time, you're not going to let Peter stay in Azkaban peacefully. What do you plan to have that cunning rat do?"

“Resurrect Tom,” Melvin said without any attempt to hide his intentions.

It's a pity Tom can't hear, otherwise he would definitely be moved.

Dumbledore's expression suddenly changed. He remained silent for a moment, taking several sips of hot cocoa before his astonishment subsided. "Even after knowing you for three years, I still can't get used to your unconventional thinking, Melvin. Can you tell me why you resurrected Voldemort?"

"Before summer vacation ended, I went to Hangerton and found their family heirloom ring at the Gaunt family home. Guess what surprise awaits me?"

"Another... Horcrux?"

“Yes, a newly discovered Horcrux, inhabited by Tom’s memories at sixteen, young and naive, yet equally ruthless,” Melvin said softly. “Back then, he had just discovered his true parentage, murdered the Riddle family, framed Morfin Gaunt, altered his memories, and stole the ring that symbolized his bloodline.”

“I also thought about going back to Hangerton to look for clues. That’s where his parents met and where his bloodline originated, but I’m busy looking for a suitable professor this summer.”

Dumbledore couldn't help but take stock of the Horcruxes: "The diadem, the diary, the cup, and the newly discovered ring..."

Melvin nodded, feigning agreement: "Yes, I wonder how many Horcruxes he actually made?"

Dumbledore glanced at him: "I've been investigating this matter. The only person who knows the truth might be Professor Horace Slughorn, but since retiring after the Wizarding Wars, he's been traveling and living in seclusion, avoiding me. When I finally managed to meet him, the memories he gave me were false."

“Rehire him and have him teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Professor Slughorn is almost a hundred years old, so let’s not let him bear the curse.” Dumbledore shook his head. “Melvin, the newly discovered Horcruxes are not enough to convince me to resurrect Voldemort without any preparation.”

“You’ll never be ready, Principal.”

Melvin looked directly into the headmaster's eyes: "You want to find out the exact number of Horcruxes, you want to destroy all the Horcruxes in advance, and you also want to wait for Harry to graduate smoothly, grow into a capable Auror, get married and have children, experience friendship, love and family, and have no regrets before telling him that there is a fragment of Voldemort's soul residing in his body, and bravely accept death."

He became a bit long-winded: "If you could, you'd even like to rush ahead and die, to explore the world of the dead, paving the way for Harry."

"I didn't say that. I'd like to travel the world after I retire," Dumbledore muttered, shaking his head.

(End of this chapter)