Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle

Until the young wizard reaches adulthood, the trace thread can detect all magical fluctuations in the surrounding area. If there is a risk of exposure, the Ministry of Magic will immediately send a notification letter, which was called a warning letter at that time.

Later, the relevant regulations of the Confidentiality Law were gradually improved, and the warning letter evolved into a warning letter. If the violation of the Confidentiality Law causes serious consequences, the Law Enforcement Department can file a lawsuit to hold the person responsible depending on the circumstances.

The relevant regulations continue to this day.

Considering that the current situation has eased and the witch hunt has disappeared, and that trace thread magic has many limitations and omissions, there are often false detections, and ordinary adult wizards casting spells near trace threads will also trigger detection... In short, the implementation of relevant regulations is very flexible.

The warning letter has become almost a decoration. Under normal circumstances, the Ministry of Magic will basically not make things difficult for the young wizard.

"..."

Melvin's eyes swept across the Gryffindor table and lingered for a few seconds on a student wearing glasses, his expression a little subtle.

What does it mean that the final right of interpretation belongs to the Ministry of Magic and that law enforcement is flexible?

He asked Kettleburn curiously: "What is normal?"

"As long as there's no serious accident."

“What constitutes a serious accident?”

"The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes is supposed to be working overtime... Never mind, let's not talk about those awful guys." Kettleburn's forehead wrinkled as he smiled, feeling happy for the upcoming Christmas break. "Melvin, are you staying at school during the break?"

"Under normal circumstances, they should stay."

"You really should stay at school. The school's Christmas dinner is very good."

"It doesn't sound like you're going to attend."

"I'm going to Cornwall; there's a pixie festival going on there."

Kettleburn swung his empty sleeve with one hand, wiped his mouth with a napkin with the other, and turned to look at the side: "Quirinus, if you don't want to stay in school, come with me to Cornwall, right?

"On the way, I'll tell you about the three-headed dog. You've asked me about it several times recently. Also, tell me about your experience in Albania last summer. I've always wanted to explore the forest there."

"No... no need!"

Quirrell's eyes dodged, and he quickly glanced at Melvin. He seemed to be panicking, and moved a little to the side. He explained haltingly, "The temperature has dropped in the past two weeks, and I've been sick. I feel very uncomfortable. I plan to stay in the lounge to recuperate. I don't want to attend the Christmas dinner."

"Well, if it's serious, it's best to see Poppy!"

Kettleburn's expression changed slightly, and without further questioning, he limped outside.

Melvin watched Kettleburn walk away slowly, with a thoughtful expression on his face. The invitations just now contained hidden meanings, and the old and lame professor who was nearing retirement seemed to have sensed something.

……

12 month 20 day.

The weather is getting colder day by day.

Hogwarts is on holiday today. At ten o'clock in the morning, the express train arrived at the Hogsmeade platform, and the students going home took the Thestrals to the station.

Over the past few days, Hagrid has been bringing in twelve firs for Christmas trees, filling the Great Hall. Professor Flitwick is constantly wandering the castle, waving his wand, obsessed with decorating it with lights and glittering trinkets. Professor Sprout has been hanging fresh sprigs of holly and mistletoe on the walls. Professor McGonagall is busy with paperwork for the Board of Trustees.

Snape and Quirrell were wary of each other, testing each other's nerves, and could often be seen staring at each other in the corner. This conversation generally went through three phases: the first, where they stared at each other in silence; the second, where Quirrell hesitated to speak; and then, where Snape bullied others for stuttering, cursing them openly, with no effective communication.

Melvin helped set up the Great Hall, assisted Flitwick and Hagrid, and did odd jobs.

The corner of his clothes was gently tugged twice.

Melvin thought it was Professor Flitwick who needed help, so he looked down and saw that it was Miss Granger who came to say goodbye. She was half a head taller than Professor Flitwick.

The little witch's hair was disheveled and wrapped in a red and gold scarf, which made her face look very small. However, her front teeth were a little big, making her look like a beaver, which was quite cute.

"Professor Lewinter."

"Miss Granger."

Melvin half-knelt down to look her in the eye. Without asking her what she wanted, he took out a handful of candy from his pocket, thought for a moment, and then took out an apple and handed it to her: "I wish you a Merry Christmas in advance. I won't give you any gifts."

Hermione blinked, a little confused: "Happy Christmas to you too."

Does the professor think of himself as a kindergarten kid?

Candy is acceptable, but why apples?

Hermione looked down at her gloved hands, then at the handful of candy and froze in place, not knowing how to take it.

Melvin saw her helplessness and considerately put the candy and apple into her hood. Hogwarts winter school robes have hoods, and since she doesn't wear a hood normally, it can be used as a pocket.

"Have fun at home during the holidays, don't think about studying all the time."

"..."

After saying goodbye to the professor and turning to leave, Hermione felt the heaviness on the back of her neck, her expression was a little dazed, and her mind was a little confused.

What did you ask the professor to do?

Melvin watched the little witch walk out of the hall and felt that her walking posture was more like a beaver, but he didn't know how she would chew an apple with those two front teeth.

The Muggle Studies professor smiled gently and said that people should eat apples on Christmas Eve.

"..."

The corner of his clothes was pulled again.

This time it really was Professor Flitwick.

"Melvin, hand me that star ornament."

"Ok."

"Melvin is very popular among students."

"Maybe it's because the trolls on Halloween thanked me."

"I think you're pretty..."

The fir tree was gradually being decorated into a Christmas tree, with all kinds of glowing star and moon ornaments suspended between the treetops, scattering glittering dust. Snape had come over at some point, his hair slicked back and his face expressionless, staring at them as they decorated the tree.

In fact, for a period of time after Melvin was sorted into Slytherin by the Sorting Hat, Snape had a good impression of him. But after the psychology popularization incident happened, this person became annoying.

"Professor Lewynter is truly charming. Even freshmen who don't have electives will go out of their way to say goodbye to you before leaving. You must be very proud of yourself, right?"

"I am indeed very happy."

Melvin raised his head and used the levitation technique to hang an ornament on the treetop. He lowered his head to pick up another one. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in his peripheral vision and couldn't help but smile. "Professor Snape is also very charming. Students from your college have come to say goodbye to you too."

Snape turned his head and narrowed his eyes slightly: "Draco... Malfoy."

"professor……"

Draco looked away, not daring to meet the professor's gaze. He pulled out a beautifully bound invitation from behind his back and spoke haltingly, "Our family will be holding a Boxing Day dinner at the manor. My father...my father asked me to pass the invitation to you. He wants to invite the professor to the dinner."

"Your father, Lucius?" Snape didn't accept the invitation, but stared down at Draco's head. "Why did he invite me?"

Draco's hand trembled as he handed over the invitation: "I, I don't know."

"..."

When Snape saw his reaction, he immediately reacted and his face looked as ugly as if he had eaten a fly.

Chapter 50 Christmas Morning

Christmas is here in the blink of an eye.

In the early morning, the owls outside the window were a little noisy.

Melvin was awakened by them and slowly opened his eyes.

The firewood and charcoal in the fireplace had burned out, leaving only a handful of black ash embers. There was still residual heat in the room, and the air was warm and dry, a little stuffy. A spell was cast to half-open the window, and cold air rushed in instantly. Outside, the sound of the north wind whistling across the grounds and towers could be heard.

A pile of packages lay on the rug beside the bed.

I changed out of my pajamas and slowly finished washing up.

Hogwarts has 24-hour hot water. Who can believe this?

All I can say is that house-elves are the foundation of the school.

When he walked out of the bathroom, the stuffy air that had accumulated in the room overnight had completely dissipated. Melvin then went to the bedside and opened the Christmas package he had received.

The friends I used to know live across the ocean, so I won’t receive any gifts from them this year. I’ve only been at Hogwarts for three or four months, and I haven’t met or made many friends with wizards. The gifts aren’t that many, so I counted them quickly.

Ms. Marchbank sent over some cookies, which didn't look very good, but looked like they were made by her own hands;

Several professors of elective courses gave me some exquisite and beautiful men's accessories as gifts, probably because they thought they matched his personality;

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick sent me books, and Professor Sprout sent me some dried flower buds with a lingering fragrance...

Dumbledore gave a storybook, "Tales of Toadstools: Origins", written by Beatrix Bloxam. On the title page there was a recommendation from the publisher's editor: These stories are morbidly focused on the most terrible themes, such as death, disease, bloodshed, evil magic, unhealthy personalities and the most disgusting bodily ejections and explosions.

Melvin was too lazy to guess what the principal was thinking and planned to find an opportunity to give the students a reading comprehension exercise.

Snape sent a small bottle of antidote for the muteness potion, which was quite specific.

Melvin sensed the malice in the potion, and quietly put it away, planning to sell it to Mr. Borgin when he had time.

The last letter was the most special. It was not written on parchment, and the ink had no scent. It was a pure Muggle letter, but on the cover there was the seal of the Department of Owls, and the seals of both the Magical Congress of the United States and the Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom.

When I opened it, I found out it was from my assistant:

"Melvin—

Hey, it's me, Claire, your forgotten subordinate. I know you must be very surprised to receive this letter, and I was just as surprised when I started writing it. I've tried to contact you since arriving at Disneyland, through phone calls, texts, and emails, but no response. The theater doesn't have any contact information for you, and I even suspected you were arrested and imprisoned.

Later, someone from the Woolworth Building contacted me. Honestly, I have no idea how they found me. They knew my address and that I was looking for you. They asked me about your time at the theater and how the special effects were achieved. I suspect they were an official agency, a Pentagon office or something. Their questioning was very unique, you know? It fits my impression of a clueless bureaucrat.

A relatively friendly Mr. Graves told me that you're volunteering at a remote, underdeveloped school on the British border. With no electricity, no water, and no internet, contacting you through normal channels is difficult, and we can only communicate by letter. This is the seventh letter I've sent; the first six were all returned, stating that international mail required censorship. Damn it, I'd rather believe you were arrested for leaking state secrets or something.

……

Back to the topic, I don't know how you arranged it. I originally thought I would go to a Hollywood company for further training, but I didn't expect to join Walt Disney directly. The treatment was exactly the same as that of regular employees, and the promotion was inexplicably smooth. Everyone thought I had some special background.

Because my promotion went so smoothly, I'll be transferred to Paris after the Christmas holiday to participate in the operations and management of the Disneyland, which will open next year...

Boss, are you still my boss? Write back to me as soon as possible.

Merry Christmas, I hope you get this letter before Christmas.

Your less-than-faithful subordinate, Claire."

Melvin put down the letter and couldn't help but smile faintly. He opened the ink bottle and started thinking about how to reply while waiting for the quill pen to be dipped in ink.

……