Chapter 37: Professor McGonagall's Deception [Read More~]
As a closed-campus school, Hogwarts relied on its house-elves to centrally purchase daily necessities for both staff and students even festive supplies for major holidays. These steady and consistent orders attracted many Hogsmeade merchants to work with the castle.
Payments weren't immediate; they usually took around two weeks, a reasonable delay. Fortunately, Hogwarts had never defaulted.
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall often oversaw the payment process herself which occasionally included handmade gifts from the professors. Professor Snape's potions were especially sought after.
This time, the Deputy Headmistress was accompanied by a new face to help settle accounts.
The young wizard, neatly dressed in a long coat and wearing a pleasant smile, offered practical business advice during casual conversation. The Hogsmeade merchants quickly warmed up to the recently appointed Professor Lewynter.
By around 4:30 p.m., the Deputy Headmistress and the new professor had finished their errands and were returning to Hogwarts, just as the evening sun painted the castle in warm orange hues.
"Melvin, thank you for accompanying me to Hogsmeade today," McGonagall said, clearly pleased. "You handled everything flawlessly."
She had lost count of how many discounts Melvin had managed to negotiate. His results far surpassed those of her superior who was famously lazy and evasive.
"I'm glad I could help, Professor McGonagall. I've learned a great deal," Melvin replied with an easy smile.
"It's been almost a month since you arrived at Hogwarts. How are you finding it? Adjusting well?"
"Excellent."
"And your students? Is teaching going smoothly?"
"Very well…"
As Melvin began explaining his rather unorthodox teaching methods, McGonagall's expression grew slightly strained. As a professor with decades of experience, she still found his "one-semester-in-a-week" approach borderline heretical.
Yet, she couldn't argue with results. The exam outcomes spoke for themselves.
Still, she thought to herself in a few years, he should really learn to pace himself.
The two continued up the path toward the castle. The golden light of sunset spread across the stone walls and lawns, brightening the once-shadowy grounds.
Several students who weren't in class were running and playing across the fields. Upon spotting Professor McGonagall, the younger ones quickly ducked their heads and bolted off. Their scampering wasn't out of fear more like mischievous playfulness. Once at a safe distance, they started laughing again.
The older students, who knew their Deputy Headmistress's "cold outside, warm inside" nature, didn't flee. A few even waved and greeted Professor Lewynter, the new Muggle Studies teacher.
As they approached the Quidditch pitch, the sounds of laughter and cheering grew louder.
That afternoon, the first-years were having their flying lesson a practice session before class ended.
At the edge of the field stood a small figure with a bushy mane of brown hair, watching the others fly. Her head was lowered slightly, her posture quiet and lonely.
Melvin's gaze lingered a moment.
Following his eyes, McGonagall sighed softly. "That girl…"
Just then, a wave of cheers erupted across the stadium. Harry Potter had completed another loop-the-loop, and the Gryffindor students in the air cheered in triumph. Those on the ground joined in the celebration no one noticing the little witch standing alone.
Neville Longbottom, who wanted to approach her, saw that no one else was doing so and hesitated, awkwardly stepping back.
As everyone else celebrated, the small witch stood apart her robe and hair fluttering in the wind, completely alone.
McGonagall pursed her lips, a touch of pity in her eyes, and began walking toward her.
Melvin followed.
Hermione Granger lifted her gaze toward the flying students, her face tense with determination. Her eyes were wide open, not blinking, as she mentally compared the flying techniques she had read in textbooks to the ones before her. But then she noticed two figures approaching.
Bathed in the soft, lingering light of sunset, two professors came to stand beside her.
One was Professor McGonagall her Head of House perfectly poised in her black robes, lips pressed but gaze warm.
The other was Professor Lewynter, the Muggle Studies teacher. He looked strikingly young no older than a seventh-year student.
He wore a long coat, the collar lifted slightly by the breeze, obscuring part of his face. Strands of his dark hair fell messily over his forehead, giving him a subtle, refined beauty. His dark eyes held a gentle, almost sympathetic calm.
Two professors suddenly approaching her…
Had they discovered her sneaking out the previous night?
Was she about to be expelled?
Hermione's face froze. Panic flickered in her eyes as she forced herself to meet their gaze.
McGonagall couldn't quite understand these young witches. She wasn't nearly as terrifying as Severus, who could silence students with a glance.
Thinking of that, her tone softened. She bent slightly to meet Hermione's eyes.
"Granger, why aren't you practicing?"
"…"
So this wasn't about her nighttime adventure.
Hermione blinked and stayed silent.
Today's flying lesson was a paired exercise. Since many students were still learning to take off and land properly, they needed partners for supervision.
Unfortunately, the class had an odd number of students and Hermione was the one left out.
She knew perfectly well why.
Her four dormmates loved chatting about every ridiculous thing imaginable: gossip about Professor Snape and the Malfoys, Professor Lewynter's coat, Professor Flitwick's mustache… Hermione found such conversations pointless. She preferred spending her free time reading a few extra pages in the library. Within two weeks, her roommates had stopped including her.
As for the boys, they had probably distanced themselves after she couldn't resist correcting their sloppy wand movements during Charms class.
Madam Hooch had foreseen this issue and originally planned to accompany Hermione herself but the boys were flying too fast and too carelessly, so she had to supervise them first to avoid another crash like last time.
And so, Hermione had been left alone.
Melvin took in the scene and quickly understood. Seeing that Hermione didn't want to talk, he didn't press.
He crouched slightly. "You don't seem to enjoy flying lessons, do you? Compared to classes that use your brain, flying can be pretty dull. And since there's no exam, well… if you don't practice well, you don't practice well."
Hermione didn't know what to say. Her heart lightened slightly.
So there were no exams for flying lessons.
Professor McGonagall: "…"
"Melvin, really! You shouldn't say that. Flying is not a trivial subject. Quidditch culture is deeply rooted in wizarding society…"
Then she turned to Hermione.
"Quidditch is fun, you know. Flying becomes enjoyable once you get the hang of it. It just takes practice. It's normal to struggle at first. Even I wasn't very good when I was in school."
"…Professor, that's a lie."
"???"
(End of Chapter)