Melvin gripped the old cane tightly. A slight tremor emanated from within, and the surface glowed with a faint blue light. Suddenly, a sudden suction force erupted, gluing his palm to the cane's midsection. In an instant, the surrounding space trembled.
Everything in front of him was dragged and stretched, blurring his vision. The powerful pull felt like a cold iron hook behind his navel.
Seconds later, he arrived in another country, another wizarding government, the British Ministry of Magic.
Still dazed after landing, Melvin gathered himself and found himself in a narrow, square room. The walls were paneled with dark, glossy wood. There was no light, and the decorative stripes between the cracks shone faintly, as if gilded.
"The Ministry of Magic hopes you enjoy your day,"
a cold female voice boomed out of nowhere, loud and clear, its source indistinguishable, as if an invisible woman were standing behind him.
"A classic Cockney accent..."
Melvin muttered softly. The door in front of him opened, revealing a familiar face with graying hair and a beard.
"Dumbledore."
"Many wizards find this voice too cold, suggesting the Ministry and the Wizengamot are unsympathetic. I agree, too, but it's too much trouble to change, so it's stuck..."
Dumbledore smiled gently and held out a badge. "Anyway, welcome to London, Professor Lewynter."
Melvin took it. It was a silver, coin-shaped badge with the information from his entry application: Melvin Lewynter, Employed. "
The Headmaster actually greeted me personally. Hogwarts' orientation is more thoughtful than I expected."
"The school has some additional paperwork for hiring foreign professors, as well as the review I mentioned in my letter. We'll discuss the details on the way. Let's go over there first."
"..."
Melvin thought his tone was a little strange, as if there was something else behind his words.
He pinned the badge on his chest, picked up his suitcase, and left the room.
Entering this world-renowned wizarding government for the first time, Melvin surveyed his surroundings curiously, his dark pupils illuminated by the light.
A wide, straight corridor stretched before him, its dark wood floors pristine. Dozens of fireplaces lined the walls, wizards constantly flowing in and out, Floo powder emitting a turquoise glow. A dome constructed of magic and alchemy, inlaid with golden symbols, swayed gently, ever-shifting.
Melvin followed the headmaster through the corridor into the entrance hall.
Upon entering, he saw the famous Fountain of Magical Brotherhood. A group of pure gold statues sat in the center of a circular pool. Numerous intelligent magical creatures surrounded the wizards and witches in the center, their faces gazing in reverence.
It was blatant racism; decades later, such statues would have been denounced.
Turning left, he saw the security checkpoint not far away, where a bearded wizard manned a square table.
A sign reading "Security Inspection" was placed on the table, along with a single-pan brass scale. When a wand was placed on the tray, it clicked and a thin piece of parchment slipped out from the bottom.
"10 inches, the wand core is... a water snake horn, and the service life is... 2 years?"
A rare core, with a service life that didn't match the wand's age.
The middle-aged wizard was a little surprised.
"Yes,"
Melvin nodded and smiled, and passed smoothly.
The whole process was a bit sloppy, but Melvin knew his answer didn't matter. After all, the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot was standing nearby. If Dumbledore couldn't guarantee the Ministry's security, no matter how strict the security was, it would be useless. As
the two of them walked through the door, Melvin suddenly remembered to ask, "Headmaster, what exactly do you mean by the extra procedures you mentioned..."
"I need to apologize."
"What do you mean?" Melvin had a bad feeling.
"The Board of Governors can't directly interfere in school affairs, and faculty appointments don't need to be approved by the Board of Governors. The original plan was for you to start directly..."
Dumbledore didn't lead him to the elevator. Instead, he walked straight inside and stopped before a black wooden door. "But Mr. Malfoy has learned of the changes to the curriculum and has applied to the Wizarding Examinations Authority for a review."
Melvin understood this to be the meeting of veteran wizards mentioned in the letter. "So?"
"Mrs. Marchbanks has organized a meeting to discuss whether the curriculum should be changed. After careful consideration, I believe the new Professor of Muggle Studies is the most suitable person to persuade the committee."
Dumbledore pushed the wooden door open, stepped aside, and winked at him.
"..."
The letter didn't mention the meeting being such a surprise.
Melvin's face was expressionless, and he glanced at the headmaster. He felt a tinge of resignation before he even officially started.
However, he suppressed it.
He entered the room, and the wooden door closed quietly.
The meeting room was not very spacious, dimly lit. A round table was placed in the center, and many elderly wizards were seated at it.
Griselda Marchbank was one of them. She looked slightly hunched, her face densely wrinkled, her eyes cloudy, and she looked incredibly old. Melvin could only compare her to Nicolas Flamel.
The old wizards sat silently in their chairs, saying nothing, not greeting each other. Their decrepit air was so gloomy that if it weren't for the slowly rising and falling chests, one might have mistaken them for wax figures.
Melvin found a seat, put his suitcase away, and seeing they showed no sign of introducing themselves, he cleared his throat.
"Melvin Levent, greetings," he said,
his manner neither humble nor overbearing, his voice gentle and polite.
"Speak louder."
"What?" Melvin looked up. It was the old witch who had spoken.
"Speak louder! Young man!"
Mrs. Marchbank's first impression of Professor Levent was youth, at least younger than the old men present.
And Marchbank never looked down on youth.
In this country with a long history of wizarding, the Examinations Board is a remarkably young institution, established only a little over five hundred years ago, compared to the Ministry of Magic, the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Quidditch Association.
Marchbanks had already been an examiner there in the last century. She had personally invigilated Albus Dumbledore, and she had held him in high regard ever since that final wizarding exam a century earlier.
"Okay,"
Melvin thought rapidly.
Since the group of veteran wizards hadn't asked any questions, he didn't know how to respond. It seemed he was the only one presenting at this meeting. He ran over a familiar speech in his mind and quickly composed a draft—"I Have a Dream: Wizards and Muggles."
A small spell enhanced his voice, and it carried naturally throughout the rotunda:
"Five hundred years ago, a great British wizard founded the Wizarding Council, uniting the world's magical intelligences. Three hundred years ago, Britain established a wizarding government. The Ministry of Magic was like a beacon of light, bringing hope to thousands of wizards suffering in the Muggle conflict...
"Britain was the first country to establish the Wizarding Examinations Board!" But many have forgotten the original purpose of this organization... To select and train outstanding wizarding talent, to respond to the impending magical crisis... "
It was a bit strange, but inexplicably inspiring.
Marchbanks, hunched over in her chair, slowly straightened her back and stared at the young man. A clear light shone through her cloudy eyes, and her eyes grew brighter and brighter.
She seemed to see the young man from a hundred years ago.
— Griselda Marchbanks,
"The Famous Wizard"
: Griselda, derived from the Germanic words gris (gray) and hild (battle), is the name of a sick wife in the medieval stories of Boccaccio and Chaucer.
I'm currently working hard to pay my semester fee (due by 31 Oct 2025). Your support helps me stay in university and keep creating more chapters for you all! 💙
Support or read ahead chapters here:
👉 [email protected]/Horizons685"
(End of this chapter)