Chapter 3: Muggle Studies
"Me? A Hogwarts professor?"
Melvin was stunned.
"Muggle Studies," Dumbledore replied with a gentle smile. "Originally, the course was taught by Professor Quirinus Quirrell, but he's recently changed his focus of research and will be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts next term. I'm looking for a new Muggle Studies professor. I've seen your work and heard of your accomplishments. I believe you're quite suitable."
Melvin didn't react to the praise. Remembering the Phantom News article written about him, his expression grew subtle. "I really can't imagine how that would be suitable."
"To begin with, your credentials are excellent."
"You should know I never finished my studies."
"Don't worry about those rigid evaluation methods, Mr. Lewyn. In my view, your record is remarkable."
Dumbledore continued slowly, "Since Miss Seraphina Picquery graduated, you're the only student to have been recognized by all four Ilvermorny Houses simultaneously. Your performance and achievements during your school years were exceptional. The interviews show that Ilvermorny professors hold you in very high regard. Headmaster Agilbert Fontana mentioned that although you didn't sit for the Final Magical Level Examination, you earned a complete certificate in the Ordinary Magical Level exams.
"To succeed in Muggle society, to skillfully combine magic and Muggle abilities, to deftly navigate the limits of the Statute of Secrecy—this is precisely what our students need."
"…"
Nicolas Flamel remained silent, though his expression turned peculiar.
Albus hadn't changed—he'd spent the last hour combing Phantom News for gossip, yet now he acted as if he were completely informed.
"Headmaster Fontana never hesitates to praise any student," Melvin said evenly.
He neither declined nor accepted outright. "It's an honor to receive such an invitation, but it's quite sudden. I'll need time to consider it carefully."
Dumbledore, ever tactful, nodded. "Of course. I imagine I'll still have the pleasure of seeing your wonderful performance next weekend."
"See you next week, then. I'll have Claire reserve you the best seats. I wish you both a pleasant evening."
"Thank you for the moonstone."
"…"
Outside the theater, the neon lights still shone brightly. The night air was wide and open, a summer breeze carrying the faint scent of gasoline and dust.
Two strange old men walked down the street unnoticed. Passersby seemed to see them, yet instinctively avoided bumping into them.
"Let's go."
Dumbledore strolled happily along the curb, sipping from a can of soda. He found Muggle vending machines to be marvelous inventions.
They walked slowly, yet their pace defied logic—one moment on one end of the street, and in the blink of an eye, they appeared at the other.
"Hogwarts has never had a foreign professor before, Albus," Nicolas mused. "Why invite this young Mr. Lewynter?"
"That's a common misconception," Dumbledore replied. "Hogwarts has had many foreign professors—most from Beauxbatons."
"You still haven't answered my question."
"Because Mr. Lewynter and Hogwarts share a most curious fate."
Dumbledore took another satisfied sip of his drink. "Did you notice his ring?"
Flamel paused. A silvery light flickered in his eyes as he recalled the details: the young wizard's ring on his left hand—matte black, no gems, no intricate carvings, only faint surface lines. Ordinary at first glance… yet for all his centuries of experience, Flamel couldn't identify the material.
He squinted slightly, analyzing with care. Eventually, he noticed scattered traces within the lines—something oddly familiar.
"Is that… the crest of Slytherin?"
Burp.
...
Gershwin Theatre.
The actors and crew had long since left.
The hallway was silent. The faint ticking of a clock filled the office, while the crystal chandelier bathed the room in soft light.
Melvin stood by the window, glancing at the clock, his thoughts drifting through the interplay of light and shadow.
Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—one the most powerful living wizard, the other an alchemist who had safeguarded centuries of history—had been unexpectedly warm and conversational during their first meeting. Dumbledore had invited him because of his understanding of Muggle society. He surely had questions about Melvin's past, but hadn't pressed for details, nor had Melvin detected any sign of Legilimency...
At least, none that he could feel.
His eyes fell upon the commemorative calendar on his desk. It was the summer of 1991—the very beginning of the story…
Though Ilvermorny had always been tolerant and open-minded, after the Salem witch trials of the 17th century, the Scourer uprisings, and the New York riots of 1926, the Magical Congress of the United States of America had enforced the International Statute of Secrecy with rigid discipline.
Having fooled both the Aurors and the Inquisitor in his last trial, he knew future scrutiny would be even harsher...
Regardless of Muggle affairs, Britain remained the heart of magical culture. The British Ministry of Magic was far more influential than MACUSA, and its environment far better suited for sowing—and harvesting—magic.
Click.
At midnight, the gears of the clock ticked louder.
Melvin cleared his thoughts and began tidying up the tea set—when something glinted beneath one of the cups. Another gold coin.
He picked it up—cool, heavy, beautifully crafted.
It wasn't Muggle currency, nor a Gringotts galleon. It was a coin minted before the Goblin Rebellion, when the Goblin Kingdom still stood. Pure gold, about 1.7 ounces in weight.
Long out of circulation, its collector's value far exceeded its face worth. Bringing it to Gringotts would make even the greediest goblin smile.
Clang…
The coin spun in the air, catching the light—gleaming brilliantly.
Such an irresistible fortune.
...
One week later.
"I didn't expect Hogwarts to offer such a generous relocation stipend to foreign professors."
Melvin, after reading the Hogwarts offer letter, looked at the two old wizards with a complicated feeling.
"It's only proper," Dumbledore said proudly. "Hogwarts is more like a family—for both teachers and students."
"... If you say so, then so be it."
Melvin folded the parchment pages closed. The Hogwarts crest gleamed on the cover. "I have no objections to the terms. The offer is very generous. There are just a few personal matters I'd like to confirm first."
"Go ahead."
"Teaching won't take up all my time. I intend to study and continue developing my own career while at the school."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly. Melvin paused, then clarified, "Of course, it has nothing to do with the Dark Arts. It's mainly theatre—writing magical plays, exploring the artistic expression of magic."
"By all means."
Dumbledore's face brightened. "Hogwarts has its own ghost theatre, and once even had a student stage. I performed in a play there during my school years—though it was an absolute disaster. The school would gladly welcome someone in your field. Believe me, both professors and students will be delighted to see the drama club revived."
The headmaster's enthusiasm made Melvin want to accept immediately, though he restrained himself. "I also have a few ideas for the course material."
"Oh?"
Dumbledore's eyes lit up, suddenly intrigued.
"Descendants of Slytherin: The House of Gaunt"
As direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, the Gaunt family was among the Sacred Twenty-Eight in 1930. To preserve blood purity, they practiced inbreeding for generations. Once wealthy, the family squandered its fortune through reckless waste, producing generations of unstable and violent heirs—restless wanderers plagued by madness.
The Knockturn Alley shop Borgin and Burkes once collected many silver relics sold off by the Gaunts, engraved with the Ouroboros, Kundalini, and Merkaba motifs—each marked with Slytherin's signature [S].
All Gaunt-sold relics were withdrawn from shelves after 1947. Borgin and Burkes' staff later claimed they had been plundered by Death Eaters.
(End of Chapter)