Chapter 22: The Muggle Investigation - The Professor Stays on the Sidelines
Candlelight flickered in the Great Hall, the long table draped with a ruffled cloth. The clinking of silverware mingled with the low hum of teachers' conversation.
Melvin sat down, neatly tying his napkin and taking a sip of his refreshing mint julep.
"Professor McGonagall, I heard there was a fight between students this afternoon?"
He tilted his head slightly toward the nearby heads of houses, his tone polite but curious.
Professor McGonagall was savoring a bowl of creamy mushroom soup; her silver spoon scooped up the milky broth, dotted with light-brown mushroom slices and finely chopped herbs. The aroma was rich and comforting. A faint smile appeared on her lips.
"Don't be alarmed by the stories the students tell, Melvin. They tend to focus on the most exciting parts. It's quite normal for first-years to misbehave a little now and then. The incident wasn't that serious."
"I heard Malfoy from Slytherin was badly injured and still confined to bed?"
"You might want to ask Severus about that."
McGonagall's smile widened slightly, betraying a hint of satisfaction. After all, the deputy headmaster's cold expression when hearing of a student's blunder could be even more unnerving than Snape's.
"…"
Snape said nothing, slicing his steak with unusual force.
"Allow me to explain," squeaked Professor Flitwick eagerly, his voice quick and high. "In truth, the flying class went rather smoothly. It's common for first-years to get a few bruises on their first ride. At first, only Neville Longbottom lost control during takeoff and got a small bump. Rolanda told the others to rest while she took him to the infirmary."
Rolanda Hooch, a retired Quidditch player for the Irish national team, was efficient and compassionate toward young wizards. She had joined Hogwarts as a flying instructor over a decade ago and also served as Quidditch referee and coach for several houses.
Melvin pictured the plump, timid first-year.
Injured in Potions, injured in Flying... that boy seemed cursed with bad luck.
With both Slytherin and Gryffindor together, and no teacher supervising, it was only natural that conflict would arise.
Flitwick cleared his throat with a sip of sherry. "It all began when Draco Malfoy found Longbottom's lost Remembrall and made a few overly witty remarks. Potter, ever the righteous one, immediately demanded it back perhaps a bit rudely. The quarrel escalated. Malfoy tossed the Remembrall into the air on his broom, and Potter flew after it. The students called it a 'flying duel.'"
The clinking of knives and forks around the staff table quieted. Several professors slowed their eating to listen.
"Malfoy may have had broom experience beforehand, while Potter inherited his father's exceptional talent. Both displayed remarkable flying skills, chasing each other until neither could gain the upper hand."
Snape frowned, visibly displeased.
Flitwick's eyes gleamed as he continued, "Then something unexpected happened. As they neared the castle, the Remembrall was suddenly pulled by an invisible force…"
The staff table fell silent. Flitwick, ever the storyteller, paused just long enough for suspense before resuming. "It turned out another player was involved Longbottom himself. While being treated in the infirmary, he realized his Remembrall was missing and cast the Summoning Charm to retrieve it..."
At that same moment, Malfoy, nervous and clutching the Remembrall, felt it being tugged away. He focused harder on controlling his speeding broom and instinctively gripped the ball tighter, halting the charm's effect.
Unaware, Longbottom assumed the Remembrall was simply too far away so he strengthened the spell. The powerful pull yanked Malfoy off balance. His broom spun out of control and crashed into the North Tower wall, knocking him unconscious.
McGonagall added, "When Malfoy fell, kind-hearted Potter didn't just watch. He dove fifteen meters and caught him saved the boy from breaking his neck. I might have just discovered a brilliant Seeker."
Snape's face darkened even further.
"Luckily, only broken limbs and a few ribs. A bit of Bone-Spirit Draught will fix him once the bones are set," Flitwick concluded, finishing his wine with a sigh.
"It's not that simple, Filius," said Professor Sprout, leaning in. "Young wizards aren't as resilient as adults. He'll need at least one night of rest to recover."
Melvin remained speechless. In the Muggle world, broken limbs would summon police and government officials here, it was treated like a scraped knee.
The table went quiet for half a minute. McGonagall sighed softly. "It's only been two weeks since term began, and Longbottom's Transfiguration grades are average at best. I thought he lacked his family's magical finesse, but I didn't expect him to master the Summoning Charm strong enough to affect brooms, no less."
Flitwick nodded. "Some wizards naturally sync with certain spells, allowing them to cast them with extraordinary power. Perhaps Longbottom's gift lies there."
Melvin chewed silently.
He was, after all, just the Muggle Studies professor teaching electives to third-years and up. What did a first-year's Summoning Charm have to do with him?
"I believe… they should be punished," Snape finally spoke, his voice slow and deliberate. "A classroom brawl that injured a student should cost house points and detention."
McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "Malfoy started it. Shouldn't Slytherin lose points too?"
"Longbottom, Malfoy, and Potter should all be punished," Snape replied coolly.
Melvin glanced at him while the other professors exchanged subtle looks. Snape's math was clear Gryffindor loses two points, Slytherin one. A tidy victory.
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, wisely, stayed silent.
McGonagall and Snape began arguing more openly:
"Malfoy was most at fault Slytherin should lose more points."
"I don't object. Thirty from Malfoy, twenty from Longbottom and Potter each."
"Longbottom shouldn't lose any."
"His Summoning Charm caused it directly!"
"Ahem…"
Melvin cut in. "From a Muggle Studies perspective, perhaps we should contact the students' parents especially Malfoy's mother. She must be quite worried."
The table went still, as though the name itself carried power.
"Narcissa…"
Flitwick and Sprout murmured quietly, their eyes drifting toward Snape.
Snape's expression didn't change, but his grip on the cutlery tightened. He chewed the tender steak deliberately, his teeth making a soft click.
He seemed... irritated.
Later that night, Melvin sat at his desk in pajamas, freshly washed but wide awake.
Two weeks at Hogwarts had filled him with awe for the ancient castle's mysteries and dismay at the magical world's backwardness.
Not all pure-blood descendants clung to purity ideals. Outside Slytherin's extremists, most students treated Muggle-borns and half-bloods equally. Yet all shared one trait: whether out of arrogance or indifference, few cared to understand Muggle society.
Scientific progress had sparked curiosity, yes but only for the flashy bits, not for the billions of Muggles' complex systems and cultures.
"We'll have to change things… little by little," Melvin muttered, sketching out lesson plans.
His Muggle Studies course was running smoothly, but he was stuck waiting for equipment for a filming project he wanted to attempt. His first major task on the list, oddly enough, was designing the headmaster's challenge levels.
"Soon, Potter and the others will find Fluffy's room. I wonder if Voldemort already has…"
Melvin recalled his recent encounters with Quirrell. Nothing suspicious yet but Dumbledore was surely watching. There was time to prepare traps and trials.
Based on faint memories, each professor's challenge was unique:
Sprout's Devil's Snare,
Flitwick's Key Charms,
McGonagall's enchanted chess pieces,
Snape's potion riddle,
and Quirrell's troll blockade.
Every design mirrored its professor's discipline.
So what about Muggle Studies?
High-tech infrared lasers and safes might be too impractical; rolling boulders and bear traps too crude. The trials were meant to test students not kill them.
The difficulty needed balance: safe, thrilling, instructive, and reflective of Muggle ingenuity.
Melvin looked out the window at the deep-blue sky.
He pulled out pen and paper, brightened his desk lamp, and began sketching excitedly.
"Escape Room: confined space, dim lighting, constant psychological pressure… unleash a swarm of moths, anti-light charm…"
"They're only first-years not that fragile…"
He capped his pen, grinning. "Gryffindors are brave enough for this."
Friday, September 13th Two Weeks of Classes
The last period of the day was third-year Muggle Studies.
Melvin, part-time consultant for the Examination Authority, had the freedom to experiment with new teaching content. Half his classes consisted of fun games Opposite Instructions, Don't Laugh, Pass the Parcel, Freeze Tag.
Anyone who lost was questioned on the spot; fail to answer correctly, and you were punished.
This time, the game involved imitating animals from a Muggle encyclopedia ordinary creatures, not magical ones. Students mimicked the images and descriptions with exaggerated movements and ridiculous sounds, filling the classroom with laughter and chaos.
Knowledge seeped into their minds through laughter in the most undignified but effective way.
As Melvin led the games, he pondered whether he could enlist Dumbledore's help… when the bell finally rang.
Students immediately packed up and left, chatting excitedly.
"Ha! Alia, you're hopeless," Lee Jordan teased. "Every time the professor says 'stand still,' you freeze like a statue!"
"Oh yeah? Every time he says 'look forward,' you do it too! Don't think I don't see you staring at Angelina!"
Angelina rolled her eyes. "If Lee hadn't distracted me from behind, I wouldn't have messed up and been forced to act like an animal!"
"Hey, hey did you see Angelina doing the hippo? Hahaha! You could fit a fist in that mouth!" Lee howled, tears in his eyes. "Professor Lewynter's game is brilliant! Let's play it again tonight in the common room! Get Fred and George or the whole team! I'd love to see Captain Wood make a fool of himself!"
"Look who's talking, Mister Kangaroo Boxer!" Angelina shot back, blushing furiously. "Come on, Alia, let's get away from this idiot!"
Their laughter echoed down the hall long after class ended.
Later, in the courtyard, Melvin spotted the Weasley twins crouched behind a bush, several open books before them:
"Zog's Prank Shop Product List,"
"Beginner's Guide to Alchemy and Runes,"
and the oddly out-of-place "DK Children's Encyclopedia."
Unable to find proper Muggle chemicals, they were researching new rune-based methods to make stink bombs.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over their pages.
"???"
Both twins looked up, startled.
Professor Lewynter stood above them.
"Mr. Weasley," he said calmly, "I have a question for you."
(End of Chapter)