Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 58: The Magic Court Line
Eleven years had passed since the incident. Dumbledore had experienced too many separations and deaths in the past hundred years, so he was able to calmly deal with the sadness and nostalgia that emerged from his heart. However, every time he thought of the young mother who left a blessing on her child with her life, he was still moved.

After Dumbledore finished telling what happened that year, he stopped to sip the hot drink, allowing Melvin and himself to sort out their thoughts. At the same time, he secretly observed the young professor sitting opposite him, thinking about how he should brush off the questions if Melvin asked questions related to Voldemort's Horcruxes and that ancient magic.

With Scottish jokes or New York wizard jokes...

Unfortunately, Melvin didn't raise any questions. He just drank tea silently and sorted out his thoughts like him, with a calm expression.

"I am 111 years old. I am not sure how long I can live, nor can I be sure how many times Voldemort can be resurrected. Last time we paid a heavy price and narrowly defeated him. This time we may be able to defeat him with all our effort. What about the future?" Dumbledore asked softly.

The old headmaster's expression was so calm that he didn't seem to be discussing his own lifespan, but Melvin could detect a subtle worry in his words. He wasn't worried about himself, but about Voldemort's troublesome Horcruxes.

As the President of the International Confederation of Wizards and the Chief of the Wizengamot, his achievements are comparable to those of the founder, but a legendary wizard is still a wizard. Dumbledore is not omniscient and omnipotent. He does not care about his own life or death, and firmly believes that Voldemort's resurrection will be thwarted this time, but he is still worried that he cannot completely eliminate Voldemort, and that Voldemort will once again turn into a ghost and lie dormant, and be resurrected after ten or even dozens of years.

"The future needs young wizards like you to create it." Dumbledore glanced at the ring on his finger, then looked away and looked seriously at the young wizard sitting opposite him. "I need your help too, Melvin."

"That sounds like trouble."

"..."

Dumbledore heard that he had agreed, and smiled amiably, returning to the matter of Voldemort: "According to my original plan, Professor Quirrell would have taken action at the end of this school year and given Harry an introductory lesson on the Dark Lord."

"Professor Quirrell did his duty."

Melvin agreed.

Professor Quirrell is dedicated to his duties and devotes all his energy to the great cause of education.

In order to cultivate outstanding students, one is willing to burn oneself and even turn into ashes.

Dumbledore also approved of the professor he hired, but he had some opinions about the course progress: "Voldemort is in Quirrell's body, draining his life force every moment. Quirrell's claim of being seriously ill on the night of the Christmas party wasn't entirely a lie. That body has already begun to rot, and with the use of magic tonight, the situation will only get worse. Death has already found this master and servant. Before, they could lie dormant and wait for their opportunity, but after tonight, their patience may rot along with their flesh. Harry and the others need to speed up."

Melvin shook his head and reminded: "Not necessarily."

Dumbledore looked at him with a puzzled look.

Melvin reminded him based on a distant memory deep in his soul: "Voldemort and Quirrell are hiding because they are afraid of the chief wizard of the Wizengamot in the castle. As long as you are still in school, they can only continue to bide their time. They used herbs to delay the death attack before, but now the situation has worsened. They just need to switch to more effective potions."

There are only a few potions in the entire wizarding world that can delay the onset of death, and one of them happens to be in the school's Forbidden Forest.

Dumbledore frowned slightly, then quickly realized what was happening and murmured, "Unicorn blood."

……

When Hagrid woke up, his head hurt a bit and he was still dizzy. He didn't know if it was the effect of the alcohol or because he had slept too long. He sat up shakily, picked up the kettle on the bedside and poured half of the kettle of cold water into his mouth. He became more awake and the headache was much less severe.

I lifted the blanket and got out of bed, and saw Yaya lying on the edge of the bed. There was still half a pot of broth in the pot on the table.

Hagrid was stunned for a moment: "You did this?"

Then he realized that he was confused, covered his head and began to recall what happened last night.

He left the Three Broomsticks and invited them to the Hog's Head for a drink... Dumbledore and Flitwick declined, so Melvin and the tinkerer accompanied him into the bar... They ordered three bottles of Firewhisky, and as soon as they sat down, they started chatting about the tavern's mirror...

I went out to the bathroom and I can't remember what happened afterwards.

"A bottle of wine made me drunk?"

Hagrid couldn't accept it. He pounded his head and tried to recall, but he could only remember the names of various fire dragons and a picture of a dragon spewing flames.

"What kind of dragon is the Silver Flame?"

The more he thought about it, the more doubts he had, and the more doubts he had, the more headache he had. Hagrid racked his brains and could only deduce that it was Professor Lewinter who sent him back. He didn't know the rest.

"Wang Wang!"

Yaya moved back and forth at his feet, pulling his trouser legs towards the table, reminding him that there was still half a pot of broth there.

Hagrid rubbed its head with a smile: "You're right, eat breakfast first."

ten minutes later.

The hound Yaya looked at the half-blood giant slurping the broth and let out a long sigh of satisfaction. Then he looked at the plate of boiled meat in front of him and remained silent for a long time.

That's obviously its dog food...

Hagrid ate and drank his fill, and burped, his stomach feeling warm.

I thought Professor Lewinter was a wizard from a pure-blood family, but I didn't expect him to be so friendly and even the broth he made was so delicious.

Invite him to drink when you have the chance.

……

On the third night after Christmas, there was a small quarrel in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory.

"Want to play chess?"

"Do not want to."

"How about going to see Hagrid?"

"If you don't want to go, go ahead."

"Harry, I know you're still thinking about that mirror. I have to remind you not to go there again tonight."

"why?"

"I don't know. I have a bad feeling. Magic mirrors that see desires and dreams and make people obsessed are never good things in stories. Maybe they are dark magic items. Besides, you have escaped danger so many times. Filch, Snape and Mrs. Norris will patrol at night. What if you get caught?"

"You sound like Hermione."

"I'm not kidding, Harry, really don't go."

"..."

Harry ignored his roommate's advice. He had never seen his parents since he could remember, and for the previous ten years he had never experienced parental love. Now he finally had the chance to see their faces. Merlin couldn't stop him, and Ron's unfounded speculations were even less likely to work. As night fell, Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak, left the dormitory, crossed the common room, and climbed out of the Portrait Hole.

"You naughty boy, who are you?!" the Fat Lady asked angrily. She had been disturbed in her sweet dreams for three consecutive days, and she was still scolded even though the principal had warned her.

Harry remained silent, silently apologizing in his heart.

The torches in the corridor had been extinguished. With darkness and the invisibility cloak as a double insurance, Harry was not as panicked as he had been the night before. He walked briskly downstairs, avoiding the patrolling Filch and Mrs. Norris, and soon arrived at the abandoned classroom and stood in front of the Mirror of Erised.

"Mom... Dad..."

Harry looked at the mirror obsessively, stroked the mirror and sat on the ground. He wanted to stay here all night. No one could stop him from staying with his family, not even Merlin!
"You here again, Harry?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore! I…I didn't see you."

"The Invisibility Cloak shouldn't be obstructing your vision. Perhaps your myopia has worsened," Dumbledore said with a smile, sitting down next to him. "However, it's also possible that you were so eager to see the Mirror of Erised that you ignored your surroundings."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"I just call it that according to the inscription above."

“Eris…”

"You can try reading it backwards."

"..."

In an abandoned classroom in the castle, the amiable headmaster began giving a psychological counseling class to the freshmen, while five hundred miles away in London, Melvin walked across Charing Cross Road, pushed open the revolving door of an old pub, and walked in.

The tavern was at its busiest. The dim kerosene lamp could hardly illuminate the entire room, but instead added a hazy and mysterious atmosphere to the bar. An old witch dressed strangely sat in the corner, emitting a hoarse and shrill laugh. The goblins from Gringotts were drunk and crazy at the long table. The young nephews of the Abbott family were in charge of mixing drinks and serving the guests. Old Tom was hiding behind the counter, slacking off and chatting with a few wizards.

Hearing the sound of the brass bell hanging behind the door, Old Tom looked over. When he saw the visitor, his eyes suddenly lit up and he smiled brightly. His wrinkled face was squeezed together, revealing his toothless gums, like a shriveled walnut.

"Professor Lewinter!"

Old Tom hurriedly walked out of the counter and pulled him towards the room on the second floor. "Please wait a few minutes. Wright has already told me that he didn't expect you to come early. He will be here soon."

The second floor of the pub is a hotel, which has been specially cleaned up to accommodate guests. The tables and chairs are neatly arranged inside, the air is filled with the faint aroma of wine, the fire in the fireplace is crackling, and the sound of cars passing by can be faintly heard outside the window.

"Old Tom, we haven't seen each other for just a few months, not today. You don't have to be so polite." Melvin said helplessly, "I'm still used to the way you were during the summer vacation. You were a little polite, but not much."

"Well, isn't this because we're thinking about discussing business tonight..."

Old Tom chuckled twice, revealing his toothless gums. "Let me tell you, there was a period of time in the past two months when there were so many customers coming into the bar every night that I thought they were caravans from Knockturn Alley, coming here to have a drink and relax after their business. But when I settled the accounts in the evening, I found that the business had not changed at all. I asked someone about the situation and found that they were all here to borrow the pub's fireplace, traveling from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade just to watch the game of Broomsticks."

“Is it okay?”

"Yes, at first it was just the relatives and friends of the Hogsmeade villagers who went there to join in the fun. Later everyone knew that the Three Broomsticks could watch the Hogwarts Quidditch House Match. My regular customers, Kodoli and Digger, went to watch it and kept talking about it to me when they came back... The Boy Who Lived was the Seeker, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, it was a thrilling match, and in the end, Harry Potter won by grabbing the Golden Snitch."

Old Tom seemed to be dissatisfied with this and kept muttering, "It's really abominable!"

"So you want to buy a mirror too?"

"That's right!" Old Tom nodded heavily.

Melvin chuckled softly. "I didn't expect you to be so thoughtful. I always see you slacking off behind the counter, neglecting hygiene, and always putting off making cocktails. I thought you didn't care about the pub's business."

Old Tom blinked and looked up at him: "I don't care."

"Then why did you buy a shadow mirror?"

"Because I want to watch Harry Potter's match, too," Old Tom said matter-of-factly. "The Leaky Cauldron is the entrance to Diagon Alley, and it has a public fireplace. Customers still come for a drink every day, and it's inconvenient for the pub to close, so I can't leave. In order to watch the match, I had no choice but to buy a mirror."

"..."

Melvin had a thoughtful look on his face.

The influence of Quidditch was even greater than he had anticipated, and with the addition of star players and the Harry Potter label, word spread faster than he had anticipated. If this was the case in London's Diagon Alley, what about wizarding communities elsewhere?

Would tavern owners elsewhere also want to buy a shadow mirror?

How long will it take to establish a cinema system in the wizarding world?
The pub owner had no idea that the young professor was distracted, and was still muttering to himself. He had been running the Leaky Cauldron for so many years. Others could go out and travel, but he could only stay in London. Posters for the Quidditch World Cup were always posted in the shop every four years, but he had never seen it in person.

"And those damn guys like Diggle, they still want to show off in front of me after watching the game!" Old Tom gritted his teeth even though he had no teeth. "Every time I make a drink, I want to spit in their drink!"

"Squeak..."

The door opened.

Wright and Bogin were standing at the door with a tray of butterbeer. They had rushed in from outside and ordered a few dozen beers specifically to take care of the pub's business. When they pushed the door open, they heard the pub owner say he wanted to spit in the beer. They didn't know whether they should go in.

"..."

Wright began to reflect on whether he had watched the World Cup games in previous years and boasted about it in the store, and whether he had asked Old Tom to personally mix him a cocktail.

Borgin began to reflect on whether, as a merchant in Knockturn Alley, he had ever offended the tavern owner in Diagon Alley.

Old Tom was caught on the spot by the drunkard. His expression was a little unnatural. He coughed twice and began to scratch his head. Although he had little hair, his head felt itchy. It might be because he was under the control of the Imperius Curse that he was talking nonsense.

Melvin did not get involved in their dispute. He led the two men into the room, brought them a glass of butterbeer, and asked them, "No one told me that Mr. Borgin would also participate in the conversation tonight. Do you have any good news to tell me?"

“That’s good news indeed.”

Borgin laughed slyly. "Many wizards have seen the shadow mirror in the Three Broomsticks and understand its value. But they are not as well-informed as old Tom. They can't tell that it is the work of the Monks and Stanleys, nor can they find Wright's repair shop. They can only find Borgin and Burke's in Knockturn Alley."

“How many people want to buy it?”

Melvin was in a good mood.

His clues to the Demon Court have been found.

(End of this chapter)