Evening, Heavy Clouds
The Christmas holidays were over, and the new term arrived with the Hogwarts Express.
Students rolled into the school on Thestral-drawn carriages. As they entered the entrance hall, the sky darkened rapidly within minutes, thick and inky. The howling wind battered the castle walls, but the Great Hall glowed brightly, buzzing with cheerful energy.
Hermione sat at the long table, sipping hot pumpkin juice, observing her classmates.
Those who stayed at school over the holidays beamed with joy, reuniting with friends. Those who'd gone home, returning just today, envied the stayers, eagerly asking about holiday life at Hogwarts, their voices tinged with longing.
A ghost drifted by.
Nearby, Lavender Brown complained at the Gryffindor table. "Going home for the holidays meant no magic. My neighbors are all Muggles. I read the news in the papers, but there was no one to talk to. It was so boring…"
"That's why you called me fifteen times on Boxing Day!" Parvati groaned, exasperated.
Such unmagical chatter brought the castle to life.
Hermione had spent the holiday analyzing Slytherin's motives, the basilisk's purpose, and Professor Levent's intentions. The abstract, answerless pondering left her feeling detached, but her roommates' lively chatter grounded her.
Lavender and Parvati weren't the only ones aware of the news. Other students had caught wind of it too, buzzing with questions about the details.
"Slytherin built a secret chamber and left a vicious basilisk! Merlin, that snake's been alive for a thousand years!" a young wizard exclaimed, wide-eyed.
A nearby older student chimed in, "Basilisks can live up to nine hundred years naturally, and they can hibernate to slow aging. If it kept sleeping, it might live another thousand."
"Is the basilisk still at Hogwarts?" Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff asked suddenly.
The group fell silent for a moment before responses trickled in.
"No way, that'd be too dangerous."
"The headmaster and professors wouldn't allow it."
"The papers said they hired Newt Scamander, the magical creatures expert, to deal with it."
"…"
Beyond the Chamber and basilisk, holiday experiences were a hot topic. Those who stayed envied the family reunions and travels of those who went home, while the travelers envied the freedom to roam the common rooms.
All the staff attended the welcoming feast. Headmaster Dumbledore sat at the center of the high table, his smile warm and eyes kind as he gazed at the students. When a student met his gaze, he'd wink playfully, giving many the odd sense that he was personally watching them.
Beside him sat the house heads and professors.
The professors' eyes glinted faintly. Having experienced the Memory Mirror, released just days ago, they sensed its uniqueness but couldn't quite articulate why.
Their attention turned to Professor Levent, hoping for answers.
Melvin was discussing the Mirror with Flitwick. "The programs are pre-made, transmitted via the Floo Network. The Mirror's just a receiver, modeled after Muggle television. We want it to become the wizarding world's TV, making information faster, more efficient, and enriching entertainment."
Flitwick, not fully grasping it, had only seen Quidditch matches at the Three Broomsticks and used the Mirror for teaching recordings. "The Mirror uses the Floo Network, but Hogwarts' fireplaces aren't connected to it. Isn't that inconvenient? Could we set up a few fireplaces to link to the network?"
Melvin shook his head. "The Mirror's mainly for entertainment right now. Students don't need it."
"Only entertainment now—will that change?"
Melvin didn't answer directly, instead diving into Muggle Studies. "Muggle scholars believe information sharing is vital to civilization's progress. They've developed a whole field called communication studies."
"In ancient Rome, Muggles posted public notices—laws, verdicts, events—for people to read. Around the 7th century, Eastern dynasties perfected papermaking and printing, producing newspapers. Seventy years ago, Muggles started using television for information."
"Scholars say media accelerates the flow of knowledge, ideas, even wealth and power, to more people."
Over a longer timeline, the wizarding world's advanced magical technology should've birthed a brilliant civilization. But with wizards being few, pure-bloods hoarding resources, and many being stubbornly ignorant, the magical world had stagnated for centuries.
Meanwhile, Muggle society had transformed dramatically in just two hundred years.
"…"
Flitwick nodded, half-understanding.
Other professors looked thoughtful.
Even Dumbledore turned to Melvin, his young, handsome face prompting a reflective gaze.
The wizarding world lagging behind Muggles was a truth many wizards refused to face. Magical civilization may have once been glorious, but since the Statute of Secrecy, Muggle progress had outpaced them, racing forward like the Hogwarts Express.
Some wizards, like Dumbledore's old friend, saw this harsh reality and sought change through violence—enslaving Muggles, conquering technology with magic, bloodshed, and cruelty. A backward civilization bred such thinking.
Dumbledore knew it was wrong and stopped them, but he didn't know the right path. Fearing a misstep, he locked himself in the headmaster's office, shunning power.
No one had ever approached the wizarding world from a Muggle perspective like Melvin, using Muggle methods to spark change.
The silver-haired headmaster stared at the young professor, memories of a handsome blond youth surfacing, along with echoes of laughter from an orphanage long ago.
"…"
Dumbledore's expression wavered, then cleared. His eyes held a vision of a future chessboard. Softly, he said, "I recall the Mirror has a news program, right, Melvin?"
Melvin nodded. "The Prophet Publishing's show. It's still rough around the edges."
"News isn't just entertainment. Many at Hogwarts subscribe to papers."
Dumbledore paused. "After the feast, can we show the students the news? I believe Muggle orphanages and boarding schools do this."
"Of course, Headmaster."
Melvin raised an eyebrow. Orphanages? Wool's Orphanage, perhaps?
The Prophet's news premiered today, and Editor Guffy had sent a memory backup, sparing the hassle of connecting to the Floo Network.
…
The feast was lively.
Hogwarts' kitchen didn't outshine home-cooked meals, but its variety was unmatched.
Students ate and chatted, catching up after the holidays. Mundane stories—shoveling snow, being chased by gnomes—became endlessly entertaining when shared, their exaggerated gestures and expressions worthy of the drama club.
Above, the enchanted ceiling ignored the inky clouds, displaying a starry sky, as if welcoming the students back.
Time slipped by. Students set down their cutlery, leaving half-eaten drumsticks and ribs, filling up on ice cream and pudding, faces glowing with satisfaction.
Ding, ding, ding~
Dumbledore tapped his glass with a silver spoon, the clear chime drawing all eyes.
"I held off speaking earlier to avoid spoiling your appetites," he said, pausing for effect. Only the Weasley twins chuckled at the weak joke. He shot them a twinkling glance and continued, "Now that you're full, I have a few words for the new term."
"First, the Chamber and basilisk were real, but they've been fully dealt with. You can explore the castle safely. If you find an interesting room or passage, do share it with me."
"No way!"
"Not a chance!"
George and Fred chimed in unison, and Dumbledore feigned a wounded look, sparking laughter across the hall.
As the chuckles died down, he continued, "As you know, Professor Lockhart is gravely ill and can't continue teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Like last year, the four house heads and Professor Levent will cover it by year. The schedule will be posted on the noticeboard."
The hall erupted in cheers:
"Awesome!"
"Brilliant!"
"…"
Dumbledore, still smiling faintly, raised a hand to quiet them. "Other reminders, like the banned items list, were covered last term, so I won't repeat them. Now, I'll hand things over to Professor Levent to show us the Memory Mirror news!"
The hall buzzed again.
"What's Mirror news?" a young witch asked.
"Probably the home Mirror content. My mum mentioned it launched when she dropped me at the station," a Slytherin grumbled. "Why'd it have to be right before we came back? Why not before the holidays?"
"Levent did it on purpose!"
"Totally!"
"I think so too…"
The chatter quieted as Melvin stood. All eyes followed as he pulled a large Memory Mirror from under the table, tapped it with his wand, and sent it floating midair. Silver mist swirled, forming faint outlines.
The screen glowed, voices emerging.
Gryffindor upper-years recognized their senior, Cecilia Haynes.
"During the Christmas holidays, while other wizards rested, St. Mungo's healers were busier than ever. Our reporter brings you inside the hospital. Carl from Wiltshire accidentally ate a Billywig feather, only able to emit shrill bird calls… Hoffman mixed seven people's hair into Polyjuice Potion, causing a botched transformation…"
Amid bird-call background noise, the Mirror showed St. Mungo's.
A bizarre wizard appeared, eyes sprouting across his face, mouth on his forehead, nose at his throat—only his ears in place.
"Ah!"
"Whoa!"
The grotesque sight made some girls scream, while boys felt their stomachs churn but couldn't look away.
"The home Memory Mirror's launch has drawn widespread wizarding attention. As a novel product, will it be embraced, and how many will buy it? The Prophet interviewed passersby…"
"The holidays are over, and Quidditch teams resumed training. Scotland's star Seeker, Lamont, hasn't appeared, rumored to have gained 20 pounds from holiday indulgence…"
"The vile memory thief, Gilderoy Lockhart's scam, exposed. Our reporters followed clues to local villages, arriving in Miller Valley today, finding no werewolf traces yet…"
"Recently, Dolores Umbridge was promoted to Senior Undersecretary, now equal to department heads. She's pushing anti-werewolf legislation and attempted to sue foreign wizard and Hogwarts Muggle Studies professor Melvin Levent for unlicensed Apparition. The Wizengamot dismissed it for lack of evidence…"
Melvin sipped apple juice, watching the news.
Just days ago, Madam Marchbanks attended a Wizengamot meeting to discuss new bill timelines and details. Afterward, Umbridge filed her lawsuit, which Marchbanks promptly rejected.
The screen showed Umbridge in a pink dress, Fudge in a green suit beside her.
Furious, Umbridge shielded her face from cameras, her high-pitched, childlike voice cracking as she scolded reporters. Other Ministry staff and Wizengamot members watched, smirking.
Normally, such incidents would stay within the Ministry, laughed off in time.
But with the Memory Mirror, the Prophet's broadcast ensured all of Britain's wizards knew—and could laugh until Umbridge retired.