Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 5: Old Mrs. Marchbank

Melvin gripped the old cane tightly. There was a slight vibration inside the cane, and the surface was glowing with a faint blue light. Suddenly, a suction force burst out and stuck his palm firmly to the middle of the cane. In just a moment, the surrounding space vibrated.

Everything in front of my eyes was dragged and stretched, and I couldn't see anything clearly. A strong pulling force acted on my body, as if there was a cold iron hook behind my navel.

Seconds later they arrived in another country, another wizarding government, the British Ministry of Magic.

Still feeling a bit dizzy after landing, Melvin regained his composure and found himself in a narrow, square room. The walls were inlaid with dark, shiny wood panels. There was no light, and the decorative stripes between the cracks gave off a faint metallic sheen, as if they were made of gold.

"The Ministry hopes you have a great day."

A cold female voice sounded out of nowhere, loud and clear, but the source of the voice could not be heard, as if an invisible woman was standing behind him.

"Classic Cockney accent..."

Melvin muttered softly, and the door in front of him opened, revealing a familiar face with gray hair and beard.

"Dumbledore."

"Many wizards feel that this voice is too cold, and that it makes the Ministry and the Wizengamot seem unsympathetic. I think so too, but it's just too much trouble to change it, so it's been used ever since..."

Dumbledore smiled gently and handed over a badge. "Anyway, welcome to London, Professor Lewynter."

Melvin reached for it, a silver, coin-shaped badge with the registration information from his immigration application written on it: Melvin Levant, Employed.

"The headmaster actually greeted me personally. The Hogwarts orientation is more considerate than I thought."

"The school has some additional procedures to go through to hire foreign professors, as well as the review I mentioned in my letter. We'll discuss the details on the way. Let's go there first."

"..."

Melvin felt that his tone was a little strange, as if he had something else to say.

He pinned the badge on his chest, picked up his suitcase and walked out of the room.

Setting foot in this world-famous wizarding government for the first time, Melvin looked around curiously, his black pupils illuminated by the light.

In front of him was a wide, straight corridor, its dark wooden floor as polished as new. Dozens of fireplaces lined the walls on both sides, with wizards constantly entering and exiting the hearths. Floo powder emitted a blue-green flame, and the dome, constructed of magic and alchemy and inlaid with golden symbols, swayed lightly and constantly changed.
Melvin followed the principal down the corridor and into the foyer.

As soon as you enter the door, you will see the famous Magic Brothers Fountain. In the middle of the circular pool stands a group of pure gold statues. Many intelligent magical creatures surround the male and female wizards in the middle, looking at them with respect and reverence.

This is blatant racial discrimination. In a few decades, this kind of statue will be pulled out and criticized.

Moving my gaze to the left, I saw the security checkpoint not far away. A bearded wizard was guarding a square table.

There was a sign on the table that said "SECURITY CHECK," and a single-pan brass scale. When you put your wand into the tray, it clicked and a thin piece of parchment slipped out from the bottom.

"10 inches, the core is... a water snake horn, and the service life is... 2 years?"

A rare wand core with a usage that is inconsistent with its age.

The middle-aged wizard was a little surprised.

"Yes."

Melvin nodded and smiled, then passed smoothly.

The whole process was a bit sloppy. Melvin knew in his heart that his answer was not important. After all, the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot was standing next to him. If Dumbledore could not guarantee the safety of the Ministry of Magic, no matter how strict the security check was, it would be useless.

As the two of them walked in, Melvin finally remembered to ask, "Principal, what exactly do you mean by the additional procedures you mentioned..."

"I need to tell you I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" Melvin had a bad feeling.

“The Board of Trustees cannot directly interfere in school affairs, and the appointment of faculty members does not need to be approved by the Board of Trustees. The original plan was to let you start working directly…” Dumbledore did not lead him to squeeze into the elevator, but walked straight in and stopped in front of a black wooden door: “But Mr. Malfoy found out about the changes in the curriculum and applied to the Wizarding Examinations Authority for a review.”

Melvin realized that this was the meeting of old wizards mentioned in the letter: "So?"

"Mrs. Marchbanks organized a meeting to discuss whether the course content should be changed. After careful consideration, I believe that the best person to persuade the committee is the new Muggle Studies professor."

Dumbledore pushed open the wooden door, stepped aside, and winked at him.

"..."

The letter didn't say the meeting was such a surprise.

Melvin had a blank expression on his face. He glanced at the principal dimly, feeling like quitting his job before he even officially started working.

Yet he held back.

As I walked into the room, the wooden door closed quietly.

The meeting room was not very spacious, with dim lights. There was a round table in the middle, and many elderly wizards were sitting at the table.

Griselda Marchbanks was one of them. She looked a little hunchbacked, with fine wrinkles on her face and cloudy eyes. She looked very old. In Melvin's impression, only Nicolas Flamel could be compared to her.

This group of old wizards sat silently in their chairs without saying a word. They asked no questions and did not greet each other. They looked so old that if it were not for their slowly rising and falling chests, one would almost think they were wax figures.

Melvin found a seat and put his suitcase away. Seeing that they had no intention of introducing themselves, he took the initiative to clear his throat:
"Melvin Levant, hello everyone."

His posture was neither humble nor arrogant, and his voice was gentle and polite.

"louder please."

"What?" Melvin looked up and saw that it was the old witch who spoke.

"Speak louder, young man!"

Mrs. Marchbank's first impression of Professor Lewyn was that he was young, at least younger than the old guys present.

And Marchbank never despises young things.

In this country with a long history of wizarding, the Examinations Authority is a very young organization compared to the Ministry of Magic, the International Confederation of Wizards and the Quidditch Tournament Committee, having been established for only over 500 years.

As early as the last century, Marchbanks had already been an examiner at the Administration. She had personally supervised Albus Dumbledore's exams. Ever since that ultimate wizarding level exam a hundred years ago, she had respected the young man very much.

"Ok."

Melvin's thoughts raced.

The old wizards didn't ask any questions, and he didn't know how to answer them. It seemed like he was the only one who could speak at this meeting. He went over the familiar speech script in his mind and quickly prepared a draft for it - "I Have a Dream: Wizards and Muggles"

A small magic spell was cast on the voice, and the sound naturally spread throughout the round hall:
"Five hundred years ago, a great British wizard founded the Wizarding Council, uniting all magical beings around the world. Three hundred years ago, Britain established a wizarding government. The Ministry of Magic, like a beacon of light, brought hope to thousands of wizards suffering in the Muggle conflict...

"Britain was the first country to establish the Wizarding Examinations Authority! But many people have forgotten the original purpose of this organization... to select and train outstanding wizarding talents, to deal with the imminent magical crisis..."

A little weird, but inexplicably provocative.

Marchben, who was hunched over in his chair, slowly straightened his back and stared at the young man. A clear light shone from his cloudy eyes, and his eyes became brighter and brighter.

She seemed to see the young man from a hundred years ago.
-
The Famous Wizard

Griselda Marchbanks: Griselda, from the Germanic words for gray (gris) and for battle (hild), is the name of a sick wife in the medieval stories of Boccaccio and Chaucer.

(End of this chapter)