The Hogwarts Express has arrived.
Professor McGonagall went to the entrance hall to greet the students. Professors from other disciplines also arrived one after another, and there was another round of introductions and greetings.
"Good evening, young people!"
The one who spoke with a gruff voice was Sylvanus Kettleburn, the current Professor of Care of Magical Creatures. He was missing half of one of his limbs, a veritable missing limb, but this did not affect his joking in the least. "
You must be the new Professor of Muggle Studies!"
Professor Kettleburn swung his empty sleeves. "Dumbledore is so easy to talk to. Talented young people can directly teach!"
The old professor was too enthusiastic, and Melvin could not get a word in.
"You've come at a great time!"
Kettleburn sighed. "When I was young, I endured 62 probationary periods just to stay at Hogwarts. Headmaster Armando Dippet always wanted to expel me. He didn't like me when he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't until Dumbledore took over as Headmaster that I finally found peace."
"Actually, it's because when Dumbledore took over, you only had one leg left, and you couldn't continue to struggle. Your personality had also become more stable, so Dumbledore felt at ease."
Professor Flitwick, standing next to him, explained to Melvin, "Even so, he still went to the reserve every summer to see dragons and to the African wilderness to find venomous beasts. That hand was torn off by a five-legged monster." Flitwick turned to look at the professor
as he spoke, his eyes sweeping over his right hand, his eyebrows furrowed.
Kettleburn touched his nose with his right hand. Half of his little finger was missing, and the new flesh at the broken end was pink and tender, indicating that the injury had occurred not long ago.
He explained with a wry smile, "Last month, I went to Romania to see dragons. While observing dragon eggs up close, I got so excited I couldn't resist touching them a couple of times, angering an incubating Australian white-eyed brooder... Later, when the keeper pulled the dragon apart, my finger had been eaten."
A disastrous incident, he recounted it with such indifference that anyone unfamiliar with the situation might have mistaken it for a cat scratch.
"..."
The professors present were speechless.
Melvin had assumed Professor Celticburn was a Gryffindor, but he turned out to be a Hufflepuff graduate.
Staggering into the hall was Professor Sybill Trelawney of Divination, wearing a pair of large, round-framed glasses. The unusually thick lenses made her eyes appear distorted and prominent, nearly obscuring most of her face.
Sybill was a descendant of the true prophet, Cassandra Trelawney. However, after generations of dwindling, the gift of prophecy had been passed down to the present day, and no one could be sure how much remained. Even the professor herself was skeptical.
Her unverifiable gift for prophecy, compared to the almost overflowing talents of the other professors offering elective courses, left this professor perpetually worried about being fired. She spent most of her time away from her colleagues, confined to the hot and crowded North Tower, her alcoholism the product of her unresolved depression.
She possessed a knack for divination, mastering the tricks of the soothsayers.
To maintain her position at Hogwarts, she developed a Muggle-like teaching method.
Taking advantage of her students' youth and inability to conceal their true feelings, she identified those with the most pronounced traits. Then, playing on their fear of misfortune and disaster, she fabricated specious prophecies, projecting herself as an enigmatic prophet. She
also reduced the difficulty of the homework to attract more students seeking an easy elective.
However, only a select few wizards knew that this professor had truly inherited her ancestor Cassandra's gift.
Reeking of alcohol, Sybill Trelawney greeted the group and sat down to drink.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Levent." Professor Seltima Vector sat down beside him.
Professor Vector, a derivative of Divination, was completely different from Professor Trelawney. If Trelawney was a mysterious witch, Vector was a rational scholar. His hair was neatly combed into a bun, and the sleeves of his dark gray robe were tightened. He looked neat and capable, but not as serious as Professor McGonagall.
"We all thought that Ms. Charity Burbage would take over the Muggle Studies class this year, but we didn't expect Dumbledore to have a new candidate... Lucky Charity, I heard that she has found a job in London and officially started her Muggle life."
Professor Bathsidha Barbling of Ancient Runes took a sip of mead, with a hint of envy in her tone: "How enviable, I also want to quit and go to Cairo, Egypt. I heard that new ancient ruins have been discovered there."
"I want to go to the Yucatan Peninsula. The astrology and arithmetic divination of the ancient Mayan wizards are still a mystery."
"What's wrong with being in school?"
Trelawney took a sip of sherry and muttered incoherently: "I would like to stay in Hogwarts all my life..."
No one doubted her enthusiasm for Hogwarts, including the flying class professor Madam Hooch, the school doctor Madam Pomfrey, and the librarian Madam Pince who arrived later...
Melvin learned from Madam Pince that the package from Flourish and Blotts Bookstore had been delivered and was placed in the storage room next to the library. He would go there to count the books when he had time.
A few minutes later, a pale young man came over with a purple scarf wrapped around his head, looking a little nervous: "Hello, Professor Lewyn, I'm Quirrell, professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Quirinus Quirrell."
"Hello, Professor Quirrell."
"..."
Perhaps because he was concerned about the strong herbal smell on his body, Quirrell just said hello briefly, then hurriedly shrank into the corner to find a seat, lowered his head and glanced over here. He
looked a little neurotic.
Babeling whispered, "He used to be a professor of Muggle Studies, but he didn't love Muggle culture. Instead, he was very interested in ancient magic. He also audited my runes course, but heard that runes were mainly used in the field of alchemy and it was difficult to exert powerful magic, so he gave up.
"I heard that traces of ancient magic were found last year. He went on an adventure to Albania during the summer vacation. It seems that he was injured. "
..."
Melvin looked at Quirrell, who was nervous in the corner, and found it interesting.
Voldemort was now just a weak ghost, without a body and without magic power. His state was similar to that of a ghost, and he could only feed on animal blood to maintain his consciousness.
If he was not willing to cooperate, he would not be able to control even the lowest goblins, let alone adult wizards.
Quirrell went to Albania in pursuit of powerful black magic, but he only found Voldemort in this state. Not only did he not see his true face, but he was bewitched and willing to withdraw his defenses, open his soul, and let Voldemort parasitize his most important brain, and offer his body to become a flesh and blood puppet.
Those herbs were used to treat the corruption caused by the deathly aura infecting the flesh and blood.
I wonder if this professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts will regret it.
"Listen, they are coming."
"Gurgle..."
Before he could gather his thoughts, the students had already arrived in the entrance hall. Professor Flitwick called out a warning. Outside the castle, he could faintly hear the slow chugging of the Thestrals.
Dumbledore also arrived late.
...
Night fell on Hogwarts.
The new students gathered in front of the oak door.
"Sorting is a very important ceremony..."
"The four houses are: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff..."
"The house with the highest scores at the end of the year will receive the House Cup."
Hermione followed Professor McGonagall closely at a brisk pace, her ears perked up, eager to catch every word the professor said. She walked along the stone floor to the side hall to wait, but despite listening carefully all the way, she still didn't hear the specific procedures of the Sorting.
Professor McGonagall turned to glance at the little witch and pursed her lips. "Wait here, please remain quiet. I'll be here to pick you up soon."
Then she turned and left.
Hermione breathed softly, her breath coming from the professor's serious, tense expression.
"What exactly is the Sorting Ceremony, Ron? How can they guarantee the correct placement?"
"It's like a test. My brother Fred said it's very dangerous, but I think he's just trying to scare me."
"…"
Hearing two boys talking nearby, Hermione pursed her lips and began silently reciting the spells she'd memorized from Miranda Goshawk's The Standard Book of Spells: Elementary, which she had memorized before the start of the semester.
The students chattered and ghosts darted through the walls, completely forgetting the professor's instructions for silence.
When Professor McGonagall returned, the new students filed into the wizarding school's Great Hall, unable to suppress their quiet gasps.
Thousands of candles drifted in the air, and four long tables, set with gleaming golden plates and goblets, illuminated the Great Hall.
The glare blinded them, yet they couldn't bear to close their eyes. They looked up and away, only to find that even the pitch-black ceiling was shimmering with stars.
"Merlin's socks..."
"Jesus's boots..."
Hermione couldn't contain her excitement and whispered, "This place is enchanted. It looks just like the sky outside. I read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History.'"
Harry and Ron exchanged glances, remaining silent.
She'd said similar things hundreds of times, from the train compartment to the castle hall. Compared to her astonishing knowledge, the little witch's incessant voice and tone were simply too much to handle.
Hermione didn't care; she was concentrating on controlling her inner anxiety.
The worn, pointed wizard's hat in front of her suddenly slitted open, like a grinning mouth, and began to sing in a hoarse voice: "I am the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts, superior to any of your hats..."
It turned out that sorting didn't require any tests; all it took was putting on the hat.
"Those whose names I'll call, come to the front. Hannah Abbott!"
"..."
When you're extremely nervous, time always seems to pass very slowly, but once you calm down, the long moments seem to have just blinked by. This is Einstein's theory of relativity.
When Hermione came to her senses, she was already sitting at the Gryffindor table.
Only then could she calm down, listen to the conversations of her classmates, gather information, and take a good look at the professors in the guest of honor table.
The closest was Hagrid, the gamekeeper who had picked them up; the main
seat was Headmaster Dumbledore, whose picture appeared in many books and materials;
to his left were the four Heads of House, including Professor McGonagall, who had just met them;
to his right were the professors of elective courses.
"Divination, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes..."
Hermione's face flushed, her eyes sparkling. She was very interested in all these courses. "And... Muggle Studies?"
She knew Muggle was the name wizards used for non-magical people.
The professor was very different from the others, looking younger, and her style of clothing was out of place in the castle.
He wore a neat dark blue suit, a white Windsor collared shirt, and a silver-gray silk tie. His short black hair was simply combed, and his dark eyes were calm and gentle, surveying the scene just like her.
Too Muggle, not magical at all.
"You have to be in your third year to take electives..."
...
"Harry Potter."
"Gryffindor!"
As cheers echoed through the Great Hall, the boy who had captured everyone's attention walked towards the Lion's desk, his steps slightly unsteady.
Perhaps he had a bit of hypoglycemia.
Melvin also took a few glances, but he was more concerned with the reactions of the professors present. He raised his glass and glanced calmly to the side.
Dumbledore's operation had succeeded, his plan going smoothly, and he was beaming.
Quirrell lowered his head, observing Potter quietly, his lips moving faintly, as if he were mumbling to himself.
The most interesting thing was Snape. His eyes had been fixed on Potter, and perhaps he noticed Quirrell's observation, he immediately tilted his head and whispered a warning.
"You'd better behave yourself. Don't think no one notices you..."
"I don't understand what you mean, Professor Snape."
"..."
Melvin looked at the gradually bustling hall and couldn't help feeling a little emotional. Someone was designing a savior training plan, someone met the child of an old friend, and someone was planning the Philosopher's Stone. A wonderful drama was about to begin.
Suddenly, he felt a little subtle. Although he was studying in Ilvermorny, he was more familiar with Hogwarts Castle.
Well, now that things have come to this, let's eat first.
...
"Um..."
Hagrid threw the last piece of chocolate mousse into his mouth. No new food appeared on the plate, and the sound of metal knives and forks colliding gradually stopped.
"Ahem..."
Dumbledore cleared his throat, his bright blue eyes swept around, and the hall returned to silence: "Now that everyone has eaten and drunk enough, I want to say a few more words to everyone.
"First of all, let us welcome Professor Lewinter, who will teach Muggle Studies. "
There was fairly warm applause in the auditorium. The students generally welcomed the young and handsome professor, especially the little witches in their third year and above who had chosen to take Muggle Studies. They clapped particularly enthusiastically.
"And Professor Quirrell has volunteered to take the vacant Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
There was no applause this time, it was sparse. Professor Quirrell hadn't left a good impression before.
"At the beginning of the new semester, I would like to give you a few points of attention:
"First, no student is allowed to enter the wooded area on the school grounds; the administrator, Mr. Filch, asked me to remind everyone not to cast spells in the corridor during class breaks; the Quidditch player selection will be held next week... Finally--"
Dumbledore raised his voice: "I must tell you that anyone who does not want to encounter an accident and a painful death, please do not enter the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor."
Melvin always felt that he was not talking about precautions, but saying:
The mission clues have been updated, please go to the destination in time to check.
(End of this chapter)