The window, not completely closed, revealed a small gap, revealing scattered neon lights and streetlights.
The sound of stage singing and background music penetrated the wall, passed through the corridor, and entered the office, becoming somewhat muffled.
The crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling slowly rotated, casting a gentle shimmer of light and shadow in the room.
"I've looked up relevant information and found that the textbooks at Hogwarts are all old books from decades ago. 'The Life and Social Habits of British Muggles' was published in the 1970s, and 'Muggles Who Discovered' is from the 1950s... No-Maj, or your research on Muggles, is still stuck in the steam engine era and is completely outdated."
Melvin talked freely. This was the result of his correspondence with the No-Maj professor of Ilvermorny:
"As Professor Fleming wrote in his paper, wizards look down on Muggles with their self-righteous arrogance and can only see the superficial surface. Students should adapt to the new era instead of memorizing adventure novels from more than ten or even dozens of years ago..."
"As profound an insight as the Mark in the Stone..."
Dumbledore looked up at Melvin, admiration in his blue eyes: "Ms. Burbage has expressed similar ideas. She always says that the arrogance of wizards is causing magic to wither, but most wizards still hold ignorant pure-blood concepts and are even unwilling to walk out of the castle to look at the sky made of steel and concrete." "
Ms. Burbage?" Melvin expressed his doubts at the right time.
"A friend of mine, an expert in Muggle affairs."
"And a candidate for Professor of Muggle Studies, right?"
Dumbledore couldn't help but smile, not denying. "Rather than staying at the school to teach, she'd rather delve deeper into Muggle society. She plans to lock her wand in a suitcase and live in London as an ordinary person for a few years."
"For a pure-blood wizard to have such thoughts, she reminds me of the naturalists of the Age of Exploration."
Dumbledore was puzzled. "Naturalist?"
Nicolas Flamel, standing beside him, explained, "Scholars aboard the expedition ships of the Age of Exploration were generally well-born and knowledgeable, yet willing to risk their lives to explore the vast world."
Melvin nodded and added, "Their mission was to open the eyes of the ignorant and backward world to the world. I hope that Hogwarts students can also become naturalists of the magical world."
"I commend your aspirations," Nicolas Flamel raised his teacup, this time filled with genuine black tea.
"As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I promise you,"
Dumbledore's voice was gentle but resolute.
After seeing the two elderly men off, Melvin leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at the hanging crystal chandelier.
Their last meeting, Nicolas Flamel was the main conversationalist, Dumbledore listening in and rarely interrupting. This time, Nicolas was the silent, taciturn one. If there was anything in common, it was that both of them glanced repeatedly at his ring.
There was no sign of Legilimency, relying solely on the knowledge and insight accumulated over many years.
It took him nearly six months to confirm that the markings belonged to Slytherin.
Life is a journey of learning.
Melvin stroked the ring, pondered for a moment, then stood and left the office.
There was no idle chatter tonight, and the negotiations went smoothly. So, the main hall was still open, the stage illuminated by the elaborately designed lighting, casting a shadow over the audience. A young assistant stood near the VIP entrance, gazing up at the stage with a slightly smug expression on her face.
Melvin turned to look at the stage, just in time to catch the most exciting moment.
The musical currently playing was "The Green Witch," his first production at the Gershwin Theatre, and the one that established him and his assistant on Broadway. The
play featured numerous magical scenes, and Melvin designed the stage effects, a perfect match in every sense of the word.
Thinking back on it now, it brings back a touch of nostalgia.
Approaching with quiet steps, Melvin lowered his voice and said, "Claire."
"Mr. Lewynter."
"I'm leaving."
"Going to Hollywood?" the assistant wasn't surprised.
"No, I'm going to England to study and explore the market."
"Oh..."
"But you're going to Hollywood."
"Huh?!"
...
It was night.
Dumbledore strolled slowly down the street, his eyes darting back and forth, curious about the things on either side. In his hand, he held a can of Coke, fresh from the freezer, condensation dripping from the aluminum can.
Compared to the red Coke he'd had last time, this blue syrup seemed sweeter.
Nicolas Flamel walked slowly and tremblingly behind him. "If I'm not senile, changes to the teaching content require a written report to the school board and the Wizarding Examinations Authority, right?"
"Ms. Marchbanks will agree."
Dumbledore automatically ignored the existence of the board of directors, took a sip of Coke, and suddenly changed the subject: "Has the Philosopher's Stone been arranged?"
"If all goes well, it has been placed in the underground vault of Gringotts, but..."
Nicolas Flamel paused: "I mean, are you really sure? There has been no news of You-Know-Who for more than ten years."
Dumbledore's smile faded, and his eyes were deep and dark: "If Voldemort is really hiding in Albania, he will definitely not miss Quirrell. He likes souls like that the most. If Voldemort returns to Britain, he will definitely not miss the Philosopher's Stone."
Nicolas Flamel frowned: "You couldn't stop that young man?"
"I tried."
Dumbledore sighed: "I talked to Quirrell before leaving school. He has completely lost himself in the pursuit of dark forces. His soul is immersed in the shadow of black magic, and even Fawkes's fire can hardly purify it."
"Alas..."
"Nico, we must admit that even the Imperius Curse cannot completely change a person's mind. I can't change Quirrell's choice either."
"I just regret that the peaceful days have only been here for a short time."
...
...
"Professor Lewynter:
I apologize for sending this informal letter so soon before you start your job, but life is like that; the unexpected always comes with tomorrow. I've encountered some obstacles in my employment.
You are a very talented wizard, but the world places more emphasis on false reputations, especially those older than me at the Wizarding World. After hearing about our meeting, these senior professors want to meet you in person and may ask some vague and general questions. I hope you can prepare in advance.
Don't worry too much. Others may not understand your insights, but Ms. Marchbank is an open-minded person and believes that everything will work out.
Torrential rain has arrived in Scotland in late summer, pouring down from the castle tower like a flood. I sit in my office listening to the rain as Hogwarts awaits the arrival of a new professor.
Your future colleague, Albus Dumbledore."
In the morning, outside the Woolworth Building, Melvin pocketed the letter he had received that morning.
He was dressed in classic wizard travel attire, his wand tucked inside his lapel, carrying a brown suitcase, not much to attract attention.
This neo-Gothic high-rise, 57 stories high and approximately 792 feet tall, began construction in 1910 and took three years to complete. Considering the efficiency of American construction, it's hard to argue that MACUSA wasn't involved.
Surprisingly, the contact person was a familiar face.
Mr. Graves, an Auror, came from a wealthy family. His mother was the former President of MACUSA, Seraphina Picquery. Perhaps influenced by his mother, Graves always harbored lofty ideals. After graduation, he joined the MACUSA, refusing family support and dreaming of restoring his family's glory through his own efforts.
However, his career wasn't going smoothly. Twenty years later, he only rose to the position of Deputy Director of the Auror Office, and then Deputy Director.
Melvin calmly entered the building.
He had been having an unpleasant argument with Mr. Graves. He
had just arrived in New York six months earlier, and his stage designs had caused quite a stir, appearing in newspapers both No-Maj and wizarding.
It wasn't long before the news spread and the Department of Law Enforcement took notice of his behavior. A Deputy Director of the Auror Office, who happened to be on the verge of a promotion, filed a complaint after the Easter break.
Melvin won the case, and Mr. Graves was demoted.
Who could have imagined this?
The middle-aged Auror followed him, silently watching as Melvin worked with the staff to register his wand, obtain his Hogwarts acceptance letter, and successfully complete his departure formalities.
"The Portkey from New York to London is about to be activated. Passengers, please prepare yourselves. Ten more..."
"I'll miss you, Mr. Graves."
"Shut up."
"Seven, six, five..."
—
"MACUSA: A History"
Since its founding, MACUSA has relocated its headquarters five times.
In 1693, after MACUSA was established and stabilized, it built a large magical structure in the Appalachian Mountains as its headquarters.
In 1760, MACUSA relocated to Williamsburg, Virginia, the hometown of then-President Thornton Harkaway.
After Harkaway's resignation, MACUSA relocated to Baltimore, where President Amber Fleming lived.
After the outbreak of the Revolutionary War, MACUSA relocated again, to Washington, D.C., to avoid the conflict and the No-Maj government.
In 1892, due to the Bigfoot unrest, MACUSA moved from Washington, D.C. to the Woolworth Building in New York.
Author here,
I need your feedback. How's my translation...plss ket me know if anything thing annoying!!
(End of this chapter)