Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 389 The Three Schools Arrive
In the darkest hour before dawn, Dumbledore arrived at the waterfront docks of Newcastle.

Without making a sound, the scattered streetlights on both sides of the road were still on, their old, yellowish light illuminating the warehouse sign, indicating that this was a temporary storage place for containers.

The spacious roller shutter door was half-open and half-closed. There were no lights in the warehouse; it was dusty and gloomy, and the air was filled with a faint, fishy stench.

Shipping containers inevitably pick up a similar smell to some extent. After drifting at sea for weeks or even months, the cargo absorbs the smell of the ocean. Some containers contain frozen meat, which adds a hint of bloodiness to the salty and fishy smell.

Dumbledore slowly walked into the warehouse, his brows furrowing slightly. To an old wizard, the smell of blood was too strong. It didn't smell like beef that hadn't thawed yet; it smelled more like freshly slaughtered flesh, almost still steaming.

A chilly breeze wafted over, and on the self-leveling warehouse floor beneath his feet, some sticky liquid suddenly appeared. Following the source of these signs, Dumbledore slipped through the gaps between the containers and arrived at the box containing frozen beef.

The metal box door was open, and Fenrir Greyback's body knelt inside.

The werewolf's head was drooping, his eyes closed as if he were asleep. His gray hair and beard were tangled together, and his evil and terrifying face was expressionless, pale and cold. The sores at the corners of his mouth had turned black.

Its sharp, clawed right hand plunged into its chest, clutching its own heart. The dried blood, dark red and black, flowed onto the ground, and the thick, pungent smell of blood emanated from there.

The ferocious werewolf died under the claws it was so proud of, its head bowed and kneeling as if in repentance and atonement.

Dumbledore surveyed his surroundings with a grave expression, but saw no trace of Greyback's wand. The gnawed, frozen meat lay scattered on the ground, already thawed, a scene of utter chaos.

Even when faced with an Auror siege, Greyback could struggle to escape, but there were no signs of struggle inside the container.

The killer is a more terrifying being than a werewolf.

……

Saturday night, Muggle Studies office.

Harry sat on the sofa in the guest room, with reference materials for his history of magic papers laid out on the table in front of him. The rustling sound of papers being turned came from the nearby desk, where Hermione was helping the professor grade summer assignments.

As the new school year gets underway, the workload for all subjects in fourth grade is steadily increasing, and the previous weekend activities have all been restarted. Fortunately, there is no Quidditch Cup this year, so Harry doesn't have to be busy training and can attend tutoring sessions on Saturday nights.

The tutoring course, worth thousands of gallons, was expensive but irresponsible. Professor Levent even left during class, leaving only the two of them in the office, one studying and catching up on weekend homework, and the other a teaching assistant grading assignments.

Homework assignments varied in difficulty. The easiest were Astronomy and Divination, one requiring only recording astrological signs and the other involving fabricating one's own misfortunes—neither demanding much of a brain. Next came Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, which required more thought and emphasized practical application combined with personal insights. Harry was quite good at these.

Last on the list is the history of magic. Interpreting the historical materials in the textbook and giving your own opinions is not the most difficult part. It also requires detailed and reasonable arguments, and attention to trivial details such as years and places. It's a real headache to write.

Harry, his head spinning from writing, tossed the quill into the inkwell and turned to call out, "Hermione, Hermione..."

"Give up. I won't let you copy my history of magic paper." Hermione said coldly, without even looking up.

"Okay, okay, I'm not asking you for homework, and it's not called copying, it's just for reference..." Harry muttered under his breath, closing the reference book. "Let's not talk about the history of magic anymore. How's your Divination Math class going? Do you have a lot of homework? Is it difficult?"

“It’s only the beginning of the semester, so there aren’t many yet, but it’s still a bit of a hassle to calculate.” Hermione flipped through a paper, paused, and said, “Hogwarts should probably consider introducing computers.”

Hearing that the Divination and Arithmetic homework was troublesome made Harry feel a little better. At least the Divination homework was easy, and he and Ron had already planned out the bad luck that would happen in the next month.

"And the Defense Against the Dark Arts paper that Professor Moody assigned is also a bit troublesome. Lavender keeps pestering me to help her revise it because she thinks the Imperius Curse is too scary." Hermione happened to see Lavender's homework and slowed down her grading speed.

Harry leaned back on the sofa, looked at the upside-down crystal chandelier, and sighed: "Neville is similar to Lavender. He has a phobia of the Cruciatus Curse and has been having nightmares for the past few nights."

Hermione fell silent. She remembered the Longbottoms' ordeal. When they were on night patrol in the Forbidden Forest in their first year, Professor Levent mentioned that the Cruciatus Curse had caused them to become mentally unstable. Last year, Neville's parents recovered and were discharged from the hospital, and the newspapers even featured them on the front page.

Although the pain has passed, the lost thirteen years will never return, and the shadow will forever haunt Neville.

"Professor Moody is indeed quite scary. When I saw the Unforgivable Curse in class, I was also startled. It was the first time I had ever seen the Killing Curse up close. My parents were killed by this curse back then."

Harry stared blankly at the candlelight above him: "Spellcasting means unforgivable, the deadliest magic in history, it is indeed dangerous. But like the old trope in movies, spells are just tools, and tools are neither good nor bad."

"Dark magic is not just a tool; it can also erode a wizard's will," Hermione warned seriously, sensing the danger in his words.

Harry thought for a moment: "This means this tool is not easy to control. Many outstanding wizards are proficient in dark magic, such as Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Levent, and Professor Flitwick..."

"..."

Hermione frowned, speechless.

“I agree with Harry…” Just as she was thinking about how to refute him, the office door was suddenly pushed open.

"Professor Levent!"

"Sorry, something came up and I missed today's tutoring class."

Melvin, his clothes damp with a light mist, had just returned from outside and was covered in the fog of the Forbidden Forest or the Black Lake at night: "Dark magic is indeed a difficult tool to control, like a Muggle's car. It's best to wait until you're adults, when your bodies and minds are more mature, and then learn under the supervision and guidance of an adult wizard, making sure you pass the test before using it."

“But Professor Moody is teaching us now.”

"Mad-Eye's point is not to teach you the Unforgivable Curse, but to make you aware of these three spells and understand their characteristics, so that you won't be helpless and stand there dumbfounded when you encounter them in the future."

Melvin hung his trench coat on the shelf by the door and sat back down behind his desk: "It's not just the unforgivable curse of dark wizards, but also other dangers you may encounter in the future. Remember Professor Moody's words and always be vigilant."

"..."

The professor's words seemed to have a hidden meaning.

Hermione asked tentatively, "Professor, do you mean... the Goblet of Fire?"

"Yes, the semi-finals."

Melvin nodded, admitting without hesitation, "I just met with Mr. Crouch from the International Affairs Department. He brought a team to the Forbidden Forest to inspect potential venues for the tournament. They've already selected a plot of land and fenced it off. Once the teachers and students from the other three schools arrive, construction on the first stage will begin immediately." Barty Crouch had been living in constant fear since his misfortune, and in just a few weeks, he looked as if he had aged several years, becoming incredibly haggard.

Despite this, he remained steadfast in his post within the Department of International Cooperation, ostensibly controlled by Wormtail and Umbridge, but actually supporting Umbridge within the Ministry of Magic's upper echelons, relaying intelligence to facilitate the kidnapping of Harry, and incidentally investigating the prophecy orb within the Department of Mysteries.

But this was just a facade for Voldemort; in reality, he was not under the Imperius Curse and was fully conscious in the face of his situation.

His escape attempt has been exposed, his biological son is under control, and Voldemort is hiding in the old mansion...

Mr. Crouch planned to finish his urgent tasks and then confess after everything was over. During this time, while preparing for the Goblet of Fire, he gradually transferred power to other colleagues in the department, and Percy made rapid progress under his focused supervision.

Harry's green eyes lit up with excitement: "Professor, do we also have a chance to become warriors?"

Melvin smiled and said, “When we were preparing for the summer, Mr. Crouch and Dumbledore originally planned to select one champion from each school, with the age limit set at 17 or older. However, I persuaded them to remove the selection restrictions.”

Harry's mind was filled with many wonderful images:
As a champion of Hogwarts, winning the semifinals, Cho Chang stood below the stage cheering and clapping, his face flushed, his eyes full of admiration and appreciation.

"hey-hey……"

Harry smiled with his head down, under Hermione's questioning gaze.

……

On the evening of October 30th, the eve of Halloween.

Melvin walked through the hall and vestibule, down the marble steps out of the castle, and glanced at the dense crowd on the shore of the Black Lake.

As night was about to fall, the grounds were filled with the chatter of the young wizards. Students along the way greeted Melvin and made way for him, while those in the front row stood on tiptoe to peer into the distance, their postures somewhat awkward.

The four heads of the houses, along with students, elective professors, and faculty, lined up on the grounds by the Black Lake. According to the Ministry of Magic and the headmaster, Ilvermorny, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang would arrive at 6 p.m.

"You'll need to greet the other three principals later, so be careful in your words and actions," Professor McGonagall whispered to Aberforth. "Don't be nervous, just invite them to sit in the auditorium as soon as possible."

Professor McGonagall was indeed an excellent vice-principal. She had rehearsed the entire reception process in advance, including background information on the three principals and their relationship with Dumbledore. She also found a few corny jokes for Aberforth to use when he didn't know what to say.

The lame joke was very much in line with the principal's past style; it was bound to be an awkward silence. Melvin believed that this was using embarrassment to cover up the flaws.

"It's getting dark, how much longer do we have to wait?"

"Perhaps they are preparing for a dramatic entrance ceremony."

“My dad said that wizards are always like this; whenever we get together, they can’t help but show off.”

Chattering and discussion filled the Gryffindor array. Harry looked at the grounds and the Black Lake as night fell, feeling only the usual stillness and tranquility. The temperature gradually dropped, the excitement and agitation faded, and he felt a little cold.

"Look! Up there, the Beauxbatons are here!" The principal stood at the front of the crowd, tilting his head back without regard for his image.

Where?

"there!"

A group of students looked up, just like their principal.

Hagrid once recounted their summer trip to Romania, where Professor Celtburn drove the carriage, pulled by towering Pegasus horses. Despite their sturdy wheels, the carriage remained completely dry, leaving its tracks in the clouds.

“So that’s how it is…” Harry exclaimed, tilting his head back.

At first it was just a black dot, but it got closer and bigger. Twelve strong divine horses spread their wings and sped across the deep blue sky. Each divine horse was as big as an elephant, with a golden body and a silver mane, like a shooting star that had fallen to earth. Behind them was a pink and blue carriage that looked like a villa.

At this moment, the surface of the Black Lake began to bubble and froth, as if the entire Black Lake was boiling. Waves splashed onto the rocks on the shore, straight masts jutted out, and 17th-century wooden boats rose out of the water, their portholes gleaming.

The hull is dark gray with a streamlined shape. Barnacles and mud are densely covering the surface of the hull, making it look like a salvaged shipwreck, yet it also possesses extraordinary magic that allows it to sail on the seabed.

"Drip..."

The voice of a third visitor came from afar. A yellow school bus drove up the rolling hills on the side of the castle, its license plate bearing a string of Latin characters—Iphamoni.

The school bus sped through the gray night, its exterior looking just like any middle school bus on the streets of New York, a deep yellow like mayonnaise, with neatly arranged windows on both sides. In the blink of an eye, it arrived in front of us, displaying a conspicuous stop sign.

The students then realized that what was visible through the glass windows were not seats, but dormitory rooms.

The horse's hooves thudded as they hit the ground. The divine horse shook its head and its large eyes darted around, flames flickering within them.

A boy dressed in a light blue robe jumped off the carriage, lowered the golden spiral staircase, and stepped out of the carriage first with a shiny black high heel. The leg was not slender, but it was ridiculously long.

The teachers and students in the entire venue remained silent for nearly ten seconds, watching the headmistress, dressed in an exquisite fur coat, step onto the Hogwarts grounds.

"Oh, dear Madam Maxim, welcome to Hogwarts!"

The school bus turned on its headlights, illuminating almost half the sky. A cheerful bell rang, and as the door slid open, the middle-aged wizard poked his head out and looked around.

"Principal Fontana, we meet again!"

Meanwhile, the sailboat rocked on the turbulent water, the anchor sank to the bottom of the shallow lake, and the gangplank extended from the deck to the shore, where a goatee-wearing sorcerer led the way ashore.

"Principal Karkarov."

(End of this chapter)