On the third Saturday of May, Hogwarts hosted its final Quidditch match of the school year.
The matchup was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. The format was a single-round points system, not technically a final, but since it was the last game of the year, students called it the final anyway.
Houses like Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, perennial underdogs in the House Cup race, had long grown used to it. Unlike the fiercely competitive Gryffindor and Slytherin, they were content to take it easy, no pressure, no stress.
This year, though, things got a bit interesting.
Earlier, both houses had their points wiped out due to a brawl, giving them a glimmer of hope for the Cup. They worked hard for weeks, only for Harry and his friends to earn nearly two hundred points for protecting the Philosopher's Stone, dashing their hopes once more.
Ravenclaw wasn't ready to give up. They wanted to fight for a big win in Quidditch, hoping to see the Great Hall's banners turn bronze and blue.
Hufflepuff, on the other hand, threw in the towel. The points gap was too wide, so they went back to their laid-back ways—no scrambling to answer questions in class for points, no grueling Quidditch practices under blazing sun or pouring rain.
Easy and carefree.
Melvin and the Heads of House arrived at the Quidditch pitch.
The grass was vibrant green, the sunlight dazzling.
After a year at Hogwarts, Melvin had grown familiar with the school's scenery and students, having witnessed the changing seasons from this very spot.
As he took his seat in the staff viewing stand, he overheard commentator Lee Jordan testing his microphone. Professor McGonagall sat nearby, sternly reminding him to remain fair and neutral in his commentary.
Dark-skinned Lee nodded vigorously, though it was clear he wasn't taking it seriously.
The other stands buzzed with different vibes:
Gryffindor students huddled together, waving a banner made from a bedsheet. "Potter Will Win" was scrawled alongside a red-and-gold lion, enchanted with basic Transfiguration to make the colors shimmer.
Slytherin students were subdued, barely bothering to jeer at Harry. They'd only lost one match, leading in points. If Gryffindor lost by a small margin, Slytherin would take the Quidditch Cup. But with their low House points, even that wouldn't win the House Cup, so it felt pointless.
Hufflepuff joined Hermione and the others in cheering, as Harry was now the school's biggest celebrity.
From the outside, it looked like Gryffindor had the edge.
Despite this, Ravenclaw—often mocked as bookworms—didn't back down. Even as their cheers were drowned out by the other houses, they kept shouting, determined to make their voices heard.
Professor Flitwick's face glowed with quiet pride.
Melvin glanced over and noticed a slim girl with East Asian features in Ravenclaw's front row, standing out in the Hogwarts crowd. Likely a second-year, she'd be in his class next year.
Cho Chang's face was flushed from cheering so hard. She paused to rest her voice, tugging at her friend's sleeve. "Marietta, do you think our house can win?"
Marietta Edgecombe, with her curly blonde hair and slightly messy fringe, looked hesitant. Her pale face showed her doubt.
Logically, she thought their chances were slim. But emotionally, she wanted to support her friend, knowing Cho had been a fan of the Tutshill Tornados since she was six.
"Maybe…"
The rest of her words were lost in the roar of the crowd as Cho turned back to join the cheering.
Curly-haired Marietta echoed softly, a bit embarrassed by the unladylike shouting. She glanced around to avoid attention, only to meet Professor Lewent's gaze from afar. Her face paled further.
Melvin gave her a small smile before looking away.
Flitwick, noticing his student, piped up, "That's the Edgecombe girl. Sharp mind, but too timid. I've never heard her raise her voice. Probably because her mother's so overbearing—Mrs. Edgecombe runs the Floo Network Authority in the Department of Magical Transportation."
"Edgecombe…" Melvin repeated softly, his dark eyes glinting.
Flitwick quickly moved on. "Thanks to you, Melvin, our team got new brooms. Otherwise, our players would just be chasing Harry's tail."
"I heard they upgraded to Nimbus 2000s, right?"
"Exactly!" Flitwick said earnestly, explaining, "Minerva considered the Nimbus 2001, but it's two or three times pricier for only a twenty or thirty percent performance boost. Nimbus upgrades are like squeezing toothpaste."
"…"
"You could wait a couple of years. I heard Randolph Baddeley commissioned goblin craftsmen for core components, planning a revolutionary broom—code-named Fire and Lightning."
"Is that so?"
It took Melvin a moment to realize he meant the Firebolt. He hadn't expected Flitwick's goblin heritage to give him such insider info.
As they spoke, Madam Hooch blew her whistle.
On this late May morning, the air was warm, the sunlight almost blinding. Fifteen gleaming golden brooms shot into the air, their polished mahogany handles flashing like streaks of gold, dizzying to watch.
Ravenclaw's team was no pushover. With new brooms, they'd devised fresh tactics. Deputy Captain Roger Davies and the team captain coordinated offense and defense seamlessly, their innovative strategies unlike anything from before. In ten minutes, they scored six goals, leaving Gryffindor stunned.
"Is Gryffindor going to lose?" Professor Aurora Sinistra muttered.
Professor Bathsheda Babbling, the Ancient Runes expert, explained patiently, "Quidditch isn't just about scoring. The Snitch is the key."
"…"
Flitwick stayed silent, his small hands gripping his sleeves, eyes locked on the pitch.
Melvin didn't interrupt the Head of Ravenclaw.
Trailing in points, Gryffindor couldn't counter Ravenclaw's new tactics and switched to defense to keep the score gap from widening. The crowd knew this meant pinning their hopes on the Snitch, so all eyes turned to the Seekers.
Two brooms circled the pitch's edge. Harry led by a dozen feet, his green eyes sharp and focused.
The seventh-year Ravenclaw Seeker trailed closely, gritting his teeth but not daring to push his speed to the max. The new broom was unfamiliar, and he hadn't fully adjusted.
Ten minutes later, Harry suddenly accelerated, pulling off an incredible turn with a daring stall maneuver, shaking off the Ravenclaw Seeker in a dazzling move.
When the crowd caught up, Harry was hovering above the pitch, his right hand raised high.
A glint of metal shone in his palm.
The stands fell silent for a moment before erupting into a tidal wave of cheers.
After Madam Hooch announced the result, the pitch became a celebration zone. Students flooded the field, mobbing the landing players and, amid the uproar, hoisting Harry into the air.
The noise was alive with vibrant energy.
May was nearly over, and summer had arrived.
Melvin stood at the front of the classroom, facing his seventh-year students. This was the final Muggle Studies lesson of the year—and their last class ever.
For the first twenty minutes, he reviewed key exam topics. These advanced students had a solid foundation, and his new teaching methods had broadened their perspectives over the year. They'd aced multiple mock exams, feeling confident and prepared.
In the past, wizard scholars studied Muggle culture with a narrow, condescending lens, treating it like studying merpeople, centaurs, or veela.
Melvin's approach didn't just cram Muggle facts into their heads. It taught them to view Muggle civilization with equality and curiosity, revealing that wizards and Muggles once coexisted for centuries. Even pure-blood families, who championed blood purity, often built their wealth on Muggle foundations.
He showed them that technology was a marvel, rivaling magic in some ways and surpassing it in others.
A few students had chosen Muggle Studies to ease their way into Ministry jobs. Now, inspired by the changes technology brought, they planned to spend months immersed in Muggle society after graduation. Even pure-bloods decided to visit Muggle cities and villages during their post-graduation travels to explore technological civilization.
Melvin found it fascinating.
He regretted dropping out of Ilvermorny and missing this experience. Maybe this summer he'd visit his old school. If that water snake didn't give him a good reason for past grievances, he'd tie it in a knot—head to tail.
"The school year's ending, and so is your time as students," Melvin said, scanning the room. "Cherish these last days. Once you leave, you'll need to apply through Professor McGonagall to return. Without a good reason, she'll likely say no. You'll be like those poor adult wizards, only seeing Hogwarts through a mirror—the castle, the Black Lake, the Forbidden Forest."
The classroom erupted in giggles, the weight of his words not quite sinking in.
"Professor, we could sneak back in!"
"With a Disillusionment Charm—Filch wouldn't see us!"
"I know secret passages!"
"Can we hide in your office when McGonagall's patrolling?"
"…"
Melvin smiled, not lingering on the topic. "You've made it through seven years of even the dullest subject like Muggle Studies. I know most of you won't worry about jobs. As for life advice, I don't have much—you'll figure that out yourselves.
"But here's a tip: don't limit yourselves to the wizarding world. If life feels tough or work gets boring, check out the Muggle world. I mean, try a Muggle job, blend into their society."
"Like what?" a girl raised her hand.
"Like delivering pizzas with Apparition. Easy work, good pay…"
The students loved this casual, banter-filled style. It's how Melvin taught all year, leaving a lasting impression.
The classroom buzzed with lighthearted chatter for ten minutes, mostly nonsense. Melvin even hopped onto the desk to sit.
"…"
Checking the time, he saw the two-hour class was barely halfway done. "Let's skip the rest of the lesson. No staying to revise either—go enjoy the sunshine while the weather's nice."
"Long live Professor Lewent!"
Another round of cheers broke out.
June 1st.
Melvin walked down the exam hall aisle, watching students quietly scribbling, the room filled with the pleasant scent of ink.
Muggle Studies exams were a breeze compared to other subjects. With the weather swelteringly unbearable, most exam rooms felt like ovens, but Melvin had cast a Freezing Charm to cool his, so students lingered even after finishing, reluctant to leave.
His final exam was simple: basic term definitions, fun facts and trivia from encyclopedias, even a novel word-matching question.
There were quirky multiple-choice questions to spread out the scores.
He'd wanted to split Muggle Studies into theory and practical exams. Theory was straightforward, but the practical would've had students installing batteries in radios, assembling flashlights, or operating simple tech devices.
He'd even considered taking them to a Muggle town to chat with ordinary people.
But Professor McGonagall vetoed it, telling him to apply next year. For now, things stayed as they were.
Her deputy headmistress authority was ironclad, so Melvin relented.
The theory exams lasted about a week.
While other elective professors took breaks, Melvin, besides his Muggle Studies duties, oversaw the first-year Defense Against the Dark Arts practical exam.
He barely prepared. The exam was set in the restricted fourth-floor corridor, with the original challenges simplified and tweaked to serve as the test.
Wednesday afternoon.
Melvin stepped out of his office, feeling light on his feet. He'd just graded the theory exams, and the students' scores filled him with pride.
At the end of the fourth-floor corridor, the examinees were already lined up.
The students were grouped by house, their eyes gleaming with excitement. The adventure in the enchanted mirror, with its tests of wit, courage, and magical skill, was now something they could experience up close.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were swarmed by classmates asking for tips on passing the challenges.
Melvin stepped forward and cleared his throat. "You're all familiar with this place. Mr. Filch tells me he's caught plenty of rule-breaking night wanderers here. Some of you have been sent to clean as punishment, haven't you?"
"…"
Many students looked away, embarrassed.
All four houses were guilty, Draco included.
"As you can see, today's practical exam is about navigating challenges. I won't go over the tasks. Here are the rules."
Melvin calmly eyed the eager first-years. "To suit the exam, some challenges have been simplified. You'll tackle them one by one, with grades of O, E, A, P…"