Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 308 Persuading the Principal
Exquisite silverware sat on the desk, with tiny holes through which wisps of steam rose, warming and humidifying the air. The silhouettes of Melvin and Dumbledore became blurred in the steam.

"Voldemort's ghost still lingers in the forests of Albania. He won't wait patiently for us to be ready. Quirrell two years ago is a case in point. Even without his magic, he can still bewitch other dark wizards to act as puppets."

Melvin said in a deep voice, "We can't always be forced to defend. Last time, Hogwarts saw through his plot and successfully protected the Philosopher's Stone, but the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest paid the price for it."

“I know that the unicorn clan is therefore wary of wizards and avoids schools… The centaur elders and the unicorn chieftain haven’t invited me for tea in a long time.”

Dumbledore looked regretful and sad, but remained unmoved: "But we still don't know how many Horcruxes there are. As long as one Horcrux remains, Voldemort will always find a way to make a comeback. If we can get information about the Horcruxes every time we defend, it may not be a bad thing."

Melvin picked up the now-cooled hot cocoa and held the cup above the silverware to reheat it: "Sir, Headmaster, Dumbledore, stop comforting yourself. Not all questions have clear answers. When will we be able to uncover the whole truth about the Horcruxes? Ten years? Twenty years?"

Dumbledore's smile faded, and he fell silent, his face blurred by the white steam: "The old wizard has plenty of patience."

"But Voldemort doesn't have that kind of patience. He's well-versed in the dark side of the soul and adept at corrupting wizards. No one knows when he'll reappear..."

Melvin said in a low voice, "The number of casualties in the Wizarding Wars is countless. The Longbottoms' injuries have dragged on for twelve years. Last time, Quirrell caused the deaths of several unicorns. Who knows who will be the next victim? A student, a professor, an Auror... or perhaps a headmaster?"

Upon hearing of the deaths of his students and professors, Dumbledore's eyes dimmed, but upon hearing of his own demise, they brightened again, and he even seemed inclined to quip:
"If that day ever comes, I probably won't cry."

Melvin rolled his eyes: "You're 112 years old, you've lived enough, of course you won't cry, but have you thought about who can stand up to Voldemort after you're gone?"

Dumbledore looked at him with a smile; the soft light and rising steam made his old face appear exceptionally kind.

"Don't look at me like that. I don't even like working regular overtime, let alone taking on such heavy responsibilities."

Melvin waved his hand: "If Voldemort attacks and you can't even beat him, I'll pack my bags and go back to Ifamonny."

The Hogwarts professor blatantly uttered these words, and in front of the portraits of the current and former headmasters, the walls of the headmaster's office immediately stirred up a commotion. Headmaster Black, his eyes wide open, ignoring the fact that his mouth was covered, still managed to grumble and curse.

Melvin took the heated cocoa down: "Professor, instead of passively defending, let's take the initiative, revive him under our watchful eyes, and minimize casualties as much as possible."

Dumbledore lowered his head in thought, the antique clock on the wall ticking away, time ticking away second by second.

“You’re right… Voldemort might be tempting the dark wizards to help him resurrect?” Dumbledore sighed, still doubtful. “Well, we have the upper hand now, so perhaps we should seize the initiative. Let me hear your plan.”

Melvin's lips curled into a smile: "There's no particular plan. I just want to make good use of Peter Pettigrew. He's a cowardly but capable fellow. Given the right reason, Voldemort won't let a servant who comes to his doorstep go unpunished..."

Not far away, Phoenix Fox lay in the nest made of the Sorting Hat on a shelf, chin resting on the brim of the hat, gazing ahead, a wisp of fiery red crest feather swaying on its head.

The discussion between the young professor and the old headmaster lasted a long time, with Melvin doing almost all the talking, and Dumbledore occasionally asking for details.

“I made a mistake. When I first met Tom Riddle, I noticed something was off about him. I had many opportunities to intervene and stop him, but I chose to wait. I waited for him to form the Death Eaters, for him to become Voldemort, and for him to start the Wizarding Wars.”

Dumbledore sighed, his expression complex. "Perhaps you're right, Melvin, we should take the initiative."

"Don't worry, Principal." Melvin finished his hot cocoa in one gulp, got up, and walked out.

As they passed the shelf, Melvin took Fox out of the nest, held him in his arms, and took off the Sorting Hat with his other hand, placing it on his head. He stroked Fox's feathers and talked to the Sorting Hat.

Fox's dark eyes widened, looking completely bewildered.

"Oh! I remember this head, the Slytherin wizard!"

The Sorting Hat, in a gruff voice, said with a hint of surprise, "Please tell Dumbledore to keep that bird away from me. I am the Sorting Hat left by the founder, and I contain the founder's wisdom. I am not some bird's nest!"

Melvin couldn't help but smile: "I will pass it on, but before that, Sorting Hat of Wisdom, I have a question I'd like to ask."

"Speak, wizard."

"Do you remember Peter Pettigrew?"

“Peter Pettigrew, hmm, let me look, let me look…”

The Sorting Hat rambled on, as if searching through its own memories: "The freshmen of 1971 were unremarkable, quiet, timid and shy, afraid of conflict and averse to risk... and ended up going to Gryffindor."

"From your description, Peter showed a lack of courage back then, and what happened after graduation proved this point. He defected to the enemy during the war, betrayed his friends, escaped reality, and disguised himself as a rat for more than ten years."

Melvin said casually, "So I'm a little curious, did he himself strongly insist on going to Gryffindor?"

"You mean to ask if I was assigned to the wrong college?"

The Sorting Hat's tone was somewhat agitated: "No! No! The Sorting Hat has never regretted sorting him into Gryffindor. I hope he finds the courage buried deep within him!"

"Okay, got it."

Melvin quickly took off the Sorting Hat and put Fox back.

Watching his retreating figure leave the office, Dumbledore took two boxes from the drawer. The left box contained a sapphire-encrusted crown, and the right box contained a diary sold at a Muggle newsstand. He opened it to the first page, which had dried, yellowed water stains and faded ink marks.

The words written on the yellowed pages have disappeared, but the recipient has still not replied.

“Merry Christmas, Tom,” Dumbledore said softly, tapping the cover.

He took out a quill pen, dipped it in ink, and began writing Christmas wishes on it.

……

Gryffindor Tower, the boys' dormitory.

After the Christmas dinner, only Harry and Ron remained in the dormitory. The lights were turned off, and the room fell silent. The two lay on their respective beds, and it had been a long time since they had made a sound.

Harry tucked the blanket around himself, his eyes wide open in the darkness, inexplicably unable to fall asleep.

He didn't know what he was thinking. He received too much information in just a few hours. He could handle it when it came one by one, but when he got back to the dormitory, it seemed like it all came at once, making him dizzy.

Worried about Sirius's case, looking forward to Professor Levent's promised reunion, and curious about Dumbledore's approach, these thoughts bubbled up like bubbles, bursting one by one.

"Harry, you said..."

Ron burped, and to soothe his heartbroken heart, he ate a lot of desserts and butterbeer at the dinner party, and was still feeling uncomfortably full.

"When can Sirius Black appear openly? Will you no longer have to go back to the Dursleys' house? He is your godfather and can also be your guardian."

"Maybe," Harry thought, somewhat intrigued.

"Can I stay at your house during the summer vacation?"

"Why? Isn't living in a humble abode quite fun?"

"Now when I see those familiar things, I'm reminded of the days I spent with Banban."

"What about your bed? Banban slept in it too." "Ugh..."

Ron gagged, feeling nauseous, which made his stomach feel even worse.

……

Hermione lay on the four-poster bed, picked up the gold necklace around her neck, and examined it closely. The lights were still on, the timer was shaking slightly, and the reflection on it was swaying back and forth.

"Ha~"

The little witch rubbed her eyes, feeling sleepy but trying to stay awake.

After returning to the dinner party, Principal Dumbledore and the other professors left in a hurry, and she did not have time to call Professor McGonagall to return the Time-Turner.

All the other students in the dormitory had gone home. Lavender was going to pay respects to her pet rabbits, Bingi, Parvati, and Padma, and was visiting relatives. She was left alone in the huge dormitory and could turn off the lights whenever she wanted.

On the bedside table were Christmas cards sent from home, one for Mom and Dad, and one for Bastian.

The child's writing was dense and full of spelling errors and grammatical mistakes. He had never been to school before and had only recently learned to spell and write in the last six months. His childish handwriting was full of longing.

"If it were Professor Levent, he would surely be able to cure Bastian's illness."

She was still thinking about what happened in the space-time rift.

Hordes of Dementors and Boggarts, dazzling Patronus, overwhelming Obscurus, and Professor Levent's unimaginable spells.

She picked up her wand, turned off the light, and retrieved the golden necklace. The cold metal made Hermione gasp, then she let out a long sigh.

This is the last night I own the converter.

Hermione's eyes darted around, sparkling in the darkness.

She reopened the converter, looked at the pointers and hourglass, and pondered for a moment:
Give me directions

The pointer moved normally, the sand flowed smoothly, and the time converter did not respond at all.

Hermione wasn't annoyed. She chuckled twice, covered herself with the blanket, and went to sleep.

……

"James... Lily..."

In the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, Lupin sat by the window. A golden full moon hung in the sky, with only a tiny tear at the edge. Moonlight slanted in through the window, illuminating the group photo of the Order of the Phoenix in front of him.

Lu Ping had dark circles around his eyes, and his weak body was filled with waves of fatigue, yet he was so sensitive that he couldn't fall asleep. He ran his fingers over the faces of his two old friends when they were young.

He let out a long sigh.

It's like a remembrance, and also like a consolation.

……

In the Potions Department office.

Snape was counting the toads that had been processed, the same batch that Harry and Ron had dealt with that afternoon.

Although it was a confinement assignment made up on the spot, if too many substandard or perfunctory work was found, he wouldn't mind punishing the two to continue their confinement.

The hibernating, ugly animals exuded an aura of death, their slimy bodies emitting a strange and unpleasant odor, yet the potions professor remained unfazed, meticulously examining and treating them.

One after another, the wall clock ticked away.

Before dawn, Snape finished processing all the materials, sat at his desk and looked around. The papers had long been reviewed, and the lesson plans for the second half of the semester were also completed... He had nothing to do now.

I sat quietly with my eyes closed for a long time, but I still couldn't fall asleep.

Snape sighed dejectedly, went into the bathroom to wash up, and prepared to greet the new day.

……

Muggle Studies Office.

Melvin woke up in his bedroom, vaguely remembering a pleasant dream, but the moment he opened his eyes, most of the dream's memory vanished, leaving only a blurry impression.

Yurm was still fast asleep. He picked up the baby snake and put it in his pocket. The snake only writhed instinctively, its body coiling up in circles.

Wash up, change out of your pajamas, and quickly tidy up your appearance.

Throughout the process, Melvin felt clear-headed and light-bodyed, without any discomfort from staying up late and waking up early.

Wizards have magical energy flowing through their bodies, allowing them to heal themselves without casting spells. This is why wizards generally live longer than Muggles and don't have to worry about various diseases.

Melvin had originally planned to have breakfast in his office, but after thinking about it, he decided to go to the auditorium instead.

Dumbledore mentioned in his office last night that a portrait of former Headmaster Evra should be kept at the Ministry of Magic to notify Fudge and Ms. Burns immediately.

Over the past few months, Sirius Black has made the front page of the Daily Prophet multiple times, and Fudge has appeared overwhelmed and agitated on his few public appearances.

Given how much this minister values ​​fugitives, even though it's the Christmas holidays, he would have rushed to the school immediately upon receiving the news, and should have arrived by now.

Melvin walked down the stairs, slowing his pace as he crossed the corridor. He could already hear the noise in the auditorium, the loudest being Cornelius Fudge.

"Haha... Amelia, Barty, you don't actually need to come. You should stay home and have a good vacation, and prepare for the Malfoy family's Boxing Day feast."

The short, middle-aged wizard spoke in a low voice, with an affected air of composure: "This is Hogwarts. Black has been arrested, and there are three groups of Aurors outside. Dolores and I are enough."

If Peter is a weak, short, and stout man who always looks meek and unremarkable, then Fudge is a burly, short, and stout man who stands out in a crowd with his unique style of dressing.

He wore a pinstripe suit, a long cape, a bright red tie, a dark green top hat tucked under his arm, and even his pointed boots were purple.

Burns and Crouch remained noncommittal and did not answer. Umbridge, listening to their conversation, maintained a smile on his lips, but secretly gritted his teeth.

That wretched Malfoy! He didn't even send her an invitation to the Boxing Day party!

We'll definitely teach him a lesson next year!
The delicate pink dress, with a bow at the neckline, was a charming and girlish outfit. However, when paired with Umbridge's face and the occasional ferocity in her eyes, it looked awkward no matter how you looked at it.

(End of this chapter)