Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 51 Christmas Party
Eleven o'clock in the morning.

The weather was clear and cold.

Melvin sat by the window with a subtle expression.

In his hand was a storybook with exquisite binding and illustrations, which was the "Tales of Toadstools" given by Dumbledore.

These short stories are not original content, but are collected by the editor. Many of them are collected from wizard taverns in the late 17th century, when the Statute of Secrecy had just been introduced and wizards generally hated Muggles. These circulating stories were full of the stench of alcohol and prejudice.

The first story comes from the story of the Bouncing Cauldron in The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

The original text tells the story of a kind old wizard educating his indifferent son by using a jumping pot to let him experience the suffering of Muggles. In the end, the young wizard wakes up and is willing to use his magic to help his Muggle neighbors.

But in this book, the originally warm and simple story has been greatly adapted and distorted. At the end of the story, the Hopping Pot eats dozens of Muggle villagers, and the young wizard rules the village.

"The warty cauldron slowly moved, a gurgling sound like a stomach gurgling came from within, and a sticky mass of Muggle matter, melted by stomach acid, spurted out of the mouth of the pot.

The blacksmith's head, holding a rake, protruded from the mass of flesh, his jaw dislocated and hanging from his chest. His limbs, a bloody mess, could barely be discerned. The priest's spine was twisted like a knot, his hands still tightly grasping the broken cross. They groaned wetly.

"The few remaining villagers promised never to interfere with wizards performing magic again..."

Melvin closed the book and wanted to cast a forgetfulness spell on himself. When he closed his eyes, the illustrations printed with the developing potion could still appear in his mind.

What a cult fairy tale.

Doesn't the Ministry of Magic have any censorship system?
Melvin rubbed his brow, stood up, and left the office. The portraits on the corridor walls were also celebrating. In the painting of the Drunken Friar, a group of portraits gathered together, holding a banquet. Sir Cadogan leaned against the wall to rest, feeling dazed. It was unknown how much he had drunk.

The Christmas party in the auditorium had not yet begun. Melvin went down to the first floor and turned right, intending to go to the courtyard to get some fresh air and clear the cult images from his mind.

The open-air courtyard was already covered in snow. The tops of the bushes and trees were covered with snow, and the stone benches were also covered with snow. Because the students had left school, the stone road through the courtyard was untrodden and covered with a thick layer of snow, which sparkled in the sunlight.

Professor Flitwick stood at the side of the corridor, looking sometimes at the snow and sometimes at his feet.

At his feet was Mrs. Norris, the administrator's cat, eager to bask in the sun but afraid of the cold, lying on the top of his shoe, its hind paws tucked in, its front paws tucked under its body. Its tail was wrapped around the professor's ankle, whether to absorb heat or to keep him warm.

Melvin walked over and said, "Merry Christmas, Professor Flitwick."

"Merry Christmas, Melvin. I love your gift." Professor Flitwick looked up to greet him, then glanced down at the sleepy cat. Mrs. Norris half-opened her eyes and slowly closed them again. "Last time you spent Christmas at Ilvermorny, right? This year you're at Hogwarts. How's it going? Are you adjusting?"

"Hogwarts is great, the temperature here is a little warmer."

Melvin felt a little nostalgic, it had been a year.

At that time, there was still more than half a year before the boy who survived the disaster received the acceptance letter. The horned water snake was hibernating, and people thought it would not wake up until the next spring. However, it suddenly woke up from hibernation on Christmas Eve, muttering that fate was telling it that it had to leave before spring.

I don't know if that guy foresaw this.

The sky was a clear blue, and the sunlight felt a hint of warmth on my body, but the thick ice and snow were even harsher, and the coldness eroded the exposed skin. Suddenly, a cold wind blew, and the slight warmth dissipated.

"call……"

Melvin exhaled a cloud of white mist.

The cat crawling on the half-blood fairy professor's shoe shrank for a while, its tail trembled even more tightly, and its front paws dug hard into it. The cat was basking in the sun not for warmth, but simply for the rare sunshine in winter, even though there was no temperature.

"It's a bit cold, I'll go in first." "Okay."

Professor Flitwick responded, continuing to look down at the silly cat.

Melvin walked into the room and found that the auditorium had been decorated yesterday.

Twelve tall fir trees were adorned with crystal ornaments and small ice beads. Golden bubbles floated in the treetops, shimmering and glittering, while the leaves shimmered in a dreamlike hue. The walls were draped with hanging ribbons of holly and mistletoe, and hundreds of candles flickered in the air.

There were only a dozen students staying in school, six of whom were from Gryffindor. Except for a few Slytherin students, everyone else gathered around the Gryffindor table, watching Harry and Ron play wizard chess.

Everyone around was helping Harry with his plans, while Ron opposite him had an impudent smile on his face, looking like a hateful villain.

Several other professors who stayed on campus had already arrived and taken their seats. Dumbledore sat in the center of the main guest seat, wearing a women's knitted warm hat with a flower pinned to the brim. He smiled and beckoned him over.

Melvin walked up to the guest of honor seat and greeted the professors who passed by:

"Happy holidays, Professor McGonagall, the book you gave me is very inspiring.

“It’s nice to smell tulips in the winter, Professor Sprout.

"Thank you for the fang, Hagrid.

"Happy holidays, Headmaster Dumbledore."

Dumbledore heard the difference between himself and others, blinked, and pondered for a moment: "Melvin, I really like the candy you gave me."

"My pleasure."

Melvin was polite, ignoring the principal's expectant look. Instead of discussing the cult storybook, he looked at the empty seat next to him and asked, "Where are the other professors?"

"Sybill is drunk and resting in her room," Professor McGonagall explained calmly. "Professor Quirrell is still ill and is recuperating in the infirmary. However, Poppy is on vacation, and the infirmary is empty, so Severus offered to help look after her."

"You are so conscientious..."

About twenty minutes later.

Professor Flitwick followed Mrs. Norris into the hall and the banquet officially began.

As Dumbledore knocked the goblet with a silver spoon, all kinds of delicious food appeared out of thin air. The table was suddenly filled with roast turkey, roast steak, cream soup and other foods, as well as bottles of sherry, whiskey, soda water and various juices.

Ron's mouth was already full of roasted chicken legs.

But Harry's mind wasn't entirely focused on the table. This was his first real Christmas, and while he was overjoyed, many thoughts raced through his mind: Who was Nicolas Flamel? What was beneath the room in the fourth-floor corridor? What was Snape and Quirrell plotting?
And who gave you that invisibility cloak this morning?

Harry raised his head while cutting the steak and quietly observed the guest of honor seat above. His expression suddenly became dull.

Hagrid, who had drunk himself, actually kissed Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall, who usually had a serious face, didn't care. She laughed so hard at his jokes that her black top hat tilted askew.

(End of this chapter)