Chapter 11: Slytherin, Absolutely Slytherin
It was night.
Summer was drawing to an end, yet the Scottish Highlands still simmered with heat. The orange glow of dusk filtered faintly through the windows, casting dappled light and long shadows across the third-floor room of the castle.
The quarters were far more spacious than expected, divided into two main sections a study area with a desk and bookshelves, and a sitting area with a sofa and coffee table perfect for entertaining visiting professors or detaining students.
Farther down the corridor lay the common room, complete with a bedroom, storage and workspace, and even a private bath more than suitable for an apartment-style suite.
The bedroom itself was large and well-furnished with wardrobes. The bed, a canopy model carved from oak, bore Elizabethan-style designs aged to a deep amber tone.
"All-inclusive lodging, two days off per holiday, and both winter and summer breaks every year. Truly an exceptional package…" Melvin climbed onto the bed, sat to the side, and bounced twice, satisfied with the day's efforts.
The bed was neatly made, the mattress perfectly sized. Despite a slight mismatch between the room's palette and the bedding, it was overall quite comfortable.
It was a brand-new Mill Creek mattress independent springs wrapped in fabric, filled with coconut latex firm yet flexible.
Hogwarts had provided a full set of amenities, but Melvin wasn't used to relying on them, so he had brought his own.
A gas-lift office chair, a portable Panasonic record player, a wind-up clock, and stacks of books, stationery, snacks, and drinks filled the room.
"After all, I am the Muggle Studies professor. It's only proper to bring a few Muggle items along…"
Melvin sighed, glancing at the now fully furnished space.
He couldn't live without the comforts of technology but neither could he live without the wonders of magic.
Nine months had passed since he'd left Ilvermorny and returned to the magical world this time as a professor at Hogwarts. Compared to his Broadway days, even if it was his first time setting foot inside this castle, he felt a rare sense of stability and peace.
He did worry, though if Headmaster Fontana ever discovered that he'd left Ilvermorny without even receiving his diploma just to rush to Hogwarts, he'd be livid enough to bury him under the Wampus Tree.
By the time Melvin realized it, the sun had set. The pendulum clock swayed faintly, marking the hour.
The start-of-term feast was about to begin. Melvin rose, removed his coat, and drew a suit from his luggage.
According to Dumbledore, Hogwarts held several grand banquets each year one being the opening feast. Professors were expected to arrive before the students, and formal attire was preferred.
The wizarding world did have its own form of formalwear, though it wasn't nearly as intricate as Muggle suits. To most wizards, suits were simply the uniforms of Ministry employees too mundane and "Muggle-like." For formal occasions, they preferred robes elegant, flowing, traditional.
Diagon Alley had shops like Tofan's and Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions; Hogsmeade even had its own boutique for high-end wizard attire. For those on a tighter budget, there was always a used robe shop.
Melvin, however, donned a suit and tie for the opening feast.
This professor had a distinct Muggle air about him.
…
Learning about the castle from films and books was nothing like walking its corridors in person.
The castle's dominant tones were dark sandstone and limestone walls and domes weathered by time, their surfaces faded to bluish-gray streaked with black and silver specks. The marble staircases provided a paler counterbalance. Straight hallways flanked by hollow suits of armor and busts of wizards, each with a nameplate beneath.
By one of the alcoves hung a green banner bearing the crest of Slytherin last year's House Cup champions. It would remain there until a new victor was crowned next summer.
Melvin descended the stairs slowly. Memories of Hogwarts surged in his mind, overlapping with the living scene before him until the two blurred together.
He paused midway to study the staircase's rotation pattern before continuing down.
There were 142 staircases in Hogwarts each varying in size and length. Some vanished without warning; others shifted direction mid-step. Rushing meant risking being stranded for half an hour.
Not far ahead lay the Great Hall, its twin doors open and glowing with light.
"You must be the new Professor Lewynter."
Before Melvin could enter, a short, plump witch with long gray hair approached, a warm smile on her round face.
"Delighted to meet you, Professor Lewynter. I'm Pomona Sprout, Herbology."
It was the same witch he'd glimpsed earlier, busy in the greenhouses.
"Hello, Professor Sprout."
"I saw you this morning, but I was knee-deep in mud and reeked of fertilizer not the best first impression. Come along, I'll introduce you to the others."
"Yes, ma'am…"
Melvin smiled and followed her into the Great Hall.
The banquet had not yet begun. The four long House tables stood empty, set only with fruit and light snacks. The staff table was unoccupied as well, though lively voices echoed from the adjacent chamber.
Following the sound, Melvin entered through a side door near the staff dais and there they were: the other three Heads of House.
The witch in front stood tall, clad in an immaculate emerald robe buttoned to the collar. Her gray-streaked hair was bound tightly in a bun, and her calm eyes peered through square spectacles. She gave Melvin's suit a brief look and nodded.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Lewyn. I am Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration."
"Pleasure to meet you, Professor McGonagall."
Beside her stood a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose, and lank black hair framing his face. His expression remained cold.
"Severus Snape. Potions."
Melvin nodded. "Good evening, Professor Snape."
"Ah! Filius Flitwick, Charms!"
The tiny half-goblin bounced toward him, barely over a meter tall but brimming with energy. He eyed the suit with delight. "That's Muggle attire, isn't it? Quite exquisite!"
"Yes Muggle suits can be tailored to one's body shape. If you're interested, Professor Flitwick, we could visit London this weekend. I know an excellent bespoke shop."
"London? I thought you'd say New York!"
"You've heard of me, Professor Flitwick?"
"Of course! You've been in the papers. I'd love to hear about Ilvermorny what are your Charms classes like? What do you teach?"
"And I'd love to learn more about Hogwarts…"
The four Heads and the new Muggle Studies professor chatted easily, trading stories about their experiences. Inevitably, the topic drifted toward Professor McGonagall's past.
She was a half-blood witch her father a Muggle priest, her mother a witch who had hidden her identity until love betrayed her secret.
Minerva had shown remarkable magical ability from infancy, unable to control her powers and accidentally revealing her mother's true nature. Yet the family stayed together. She later gained two younger brothers, both magical.
Her school years were tranquil she entered and graduated Hogwarts with distinction.
As they reminisced, Flitwick laughed warmly. "I still remember her Sorting Feast! The Hat took five and a half minutes, torn between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. It finally chose Gryffindor such a pity! Ravenclaw nearly had a legend."
Sprout smiled fondly. "I enrolled during Minerva's fifth year. She was Head Girl, top of her class, and already a prodigy in Transfiguration Transfiguration Today named her 'Best Newcomer.'"
McGonagall pressed her lips together in a modest smile.
"Filius wasn't any less impressive," she said. "The Hat nearly put him in Gryffindor. By fifth year, no student could last more than three minutes against him in a duel not even the seniors. After graduation, he became Champion of the Wizard Dueling Tournament for several consecutive years."
"And Pomona," McGonagall added with a chuckle, "was only twelve when I graduated yet she'd already tamed every dangerous plant in the greenhouse."
"Ah, those were decades ago…"
"Wonderful school days," Flitwick sighed.
Snape, who had been silently observing, finally interjected. "It's a shame Professor McGonagall still carries one regret from graduation."
Melvin turned curiously. "A regret?"
"As captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she lost her final match against Slytherin. Even now, she wishes she could replay it but alas."
"…,"
Flitwick and Sprout fell quiet. Melvin did too. Of all moments, Snape had chosen this?
Snape certainly knew how to keep a conversation lively.
McGonagall frowned slightly. "That's because a Slytherin player committed a foul, causing me a concussion and three broken ribs. I couldn't continue."
"He received a proper penalty," Snape replied flatly, "and Gryffindor still lost."
"Gryffindor's beaten Slytherin many times since."
"Not in the past five years…"
Flitwick and Sprout listened with barely hidden amusement. The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin had dominated both the House and Quidditch Cups for decades their bickering was practically tradition.
Only they realized, belatedly, that the new professor had gone quiet.
Trying to lighten the air, Flitwick tugged at Melvin's sleeve. "Melvin, how about trying on the Sorting Hat?"
"Eh?"
"It might even help with teaching. Students are more cooperative with professors from their own House. Why not give it a go?"
It was rare to see an adult wizard don the Sorting Hat. Sprout, intrigued, clapped her hands. "Yes, do try it!"
"…Alright."
They led Melvin out to the open space before the staff table.
Every year at the opening feast, a three-legged stool was placed here and atop it, the ancient Sorting Hat.
It was a pointed, tattered wizard's hat its faded gray-brown fabric stiff with starch, cracked like old parchment. The tip slumped to one side, its surface mottled with stains of unknown origin. A crooked tear marred the brim, its threads frayed to fuzz.
Melvin lifted the hat carefully, inspecting it inside and out before bracing himself and slipping it on.
The brim fell low, dimming his vision.
His thoughts became a blur.
He hadn't used Occlumency those memories weren't in his mind but deep within his soul.
Seven years earlier, when he'd stood beneath Ilvermorny's four statues, all had reacted at once. While the traits of Ilvermorny's houses didn't align perfectly with Hogwarts', he had clearly met the standards of all four.
A cool, faint magic pulsed from the Hat's brim, brushing against his hair not probing deeply, merely grazing his scattered thoughts.
"Oh?" a faint voice murmured in his ear. "It's been years since I've sat upon an adult wizard's head and yet your mind is still such a mess. When will you realize that thinking of a dozen things at once doesn't make you faster or smarter only disorganized?"
Melvin sighed inwardly. I agree, but my brain doesn't listen.
The Hat seemed to sense his thoughts and whispered, "Patience. Master your thoughts, and you master your magic."
"My thoughts… and my magic?" Melvin began, but the Hat interrupted: "Let's see… oh, such a complicated soul. Brave, kind, gifted but layered, very layered indeed…"
Melvin steadied his mind. Just as he thought the Hat might deliberate and ask for his choice, it suddenly shouted
"SLYTHERIN! ABSOLUTELY SLYTHERIN!"
"???"
Wait what?! Why Slytherin? You didn't even ask for my opinion!
Melvin looked up, finding Flitwick and Sprout staring with uneasy smiles.
McGonagall frowned faintly, lips tight.
Only Snape's expression softened looking, for once, almost pleased.
"Woo woo!"
The sound of a train whistle drifted faintly from outside the window.
…and the night went on.
(End of Chapter)