Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 112: Principal, I am wholeheartedly devoted to the school!

The drizzle continued intermittently until the next morning.

When the first portkey to New York was activated in the morning, the reserve had not yet begun to accept tourists, and the fire dragons, tired of playing, had calmed down, and the entire mountain range was very quiet.

In the central area of ​​Norwegian Ridgeback, on the lawn in front of the camp.

Hagrid lit a fire on the flat stones. The damp wood crackled and the blue-white smoke choked people. He grinned and said, "With Melvin's flame, Norbeta will definitely be willing to get close to me. Then can I play with it however I want? Hehe..."

Professor Kettleburn ignored him and buried his head in the two lesson plans in front of him, one for training students and the other for training successor professors.

Before Melvin left, in addition to a dozen cans of blue flames, he also left him a small mirror, and reminded him not to forget to sort out the images of magical beasts in his mind, pay attention to perspective and beauty, and add commentary and music.

"Ugh……"

The retiring professor sighed, feeling even busier than a normal workday. He could only console himself: "I'll just retire next year."

"call……"

He sighed and took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling the smoke from Hagrid's burning wet wood, which immediately choked him and made him cough.

……

In the dining room where the Aurors and keepers were stationed, the house-elf chefs and waiters were already busy.

There are more guests during the summer vacation, because in addition to the staff of the protection area and the Ministry of Magic, some relatives of employees also enjoy breakfast, which can be regarded as a kind of internal employee benefit.

The keepers around occasionally mentioned the young professor:

Some expressed their gratitude to him for quelling a dragon rebellion, apprehending a dark wizard who had plotted to escape, and almost single-handedly solving a case of stolen dragon eggs; others expressed their admiration for his blue fire magic, which could actually make violent and agitated dragons become gentle and approachable, and lamented that this magic could not be spread widely;

Others had bar-related businesses at home and were very excited. After a few weeks, they had intuitively felt the profits of neighboring Budapest and were eager to get a share of the profits from the young professor.

The two witches from the Rosier family sat in a corner, facing a fireplace that was still warm.

Old Vida looked up at Christine sitting opposite him and found that she was eating quietly. The Rosier family's table manners had not changed for decades. Her fair face was slightly reddened by the fire.

He seemed to be thinking of nothing.

At 8:15, Melvin walked into the floor where the Romanian Ministry of Magic Transportation Department was located, and walked into a brightly lit room with several other wizards heading to New York.

Seven or eight wizards sat down around a round table and placed their hands on the worn tablecloth, the patches of which were unstitched and a little rough.

They quietly looked at the wizards around them. Although these were door keys obtained through formal channels and everyone had undergone security checks, no one spoke to them casually.

After a few minutes, several wizards suddenly realized something and looked down at the tablecloth-shaped door key.

The worn patches trembled slightly, and around the round table, the space seemed to take on a physical form, overlapping like layers of paper. Many terrain features emerged, and the bodies of the wizard passengers quickly became transparent.

Melvin felt a powerful pull on his abdomen, a sense of weightlessness enveloped him, and his entire body instantly traversed those layers of space.

Their feet stomped heavily on the ground, and when they came to their senses, they were already in another room. The tablecloth was still the same, but the table and chairs were gone. A familiar yet unfamiliar voice came from the ceiling loudspeaker:
"Dear passengers, the portkey from Bucharest to New York has arrived. Please proceed to immigration to register your wand as soon as possible..."

A female voice, a little softer than that in the British Ministry of Magic, echoed in the small room, but no one left immediately. Most wizards chose to simply tidy up their hairstyle and clothing.

After crossing nearly five thousand miles in an instant, an elderly wizard's hair was almost blown bald.

Walking out of the room, there was a street sign with the word Woolworth on it on the wall.

Melvin stood at the side of the corridor, watching the staff and wizards coming and going, and the messy and hurried footsteps revealed a sense of familiarity. Compared with the classical style decoration of the British Ministry of Magic, the modern building office was indeed more pleasing to the eye.

As expected, after returning to the building after a year, the deputy director of the Auror Office quickly received the news and rushed over to check it out in person.

"Mr. Graves, long time no see. Thank you very much for forwarding my letter."

"..." Graves remained silent, silently checking and verifying the information.

"The wand is registered, and the suitcase has a formal permit issued by the Ministry of Magic. Don't worry, Mr. Graves. You know me well. I will never violate the wizarding laws of any country within its borders."

"..."

"What a shame!" Melvin looked at the middle-aged Auror in front of him, who was very patient in cooperating with the inspection and even had the leisure to glance at his name badge. "A dedicated Auror like you is being held back by the outdated and rigid system of the Magical Congress, and you haven't received any promotion or commendation yet."

Mr. Graves's position was still Deputy Director, the same as it had been a year ago.

For a senior Auror who is nearly fifty years old, has made significant contributions, and has no obvious major mistakes during his tenure, this promotion speed is obviously abnormal.

Graves also knew that this was not normal, but who made his last name Graves? Who made him sue a stage special effects designer and lose the case? Who made that incident known to the whole country?

Oh, this is the guy!

Graves, with a sullen face, remained silent, checking Melvin's identity documents and the permission documents for the Traceless Extension Spell several times, trying to find evidence to put him in jail.

But unfortunately, Melvin knew the laws of the United States Ministry of Magic better than he did.

"Mr. Graves, may I ask, has the Magic Congress had any cases involving the Purgers in the past two years?"

The Deputy Auror Director didn't even raise his head. "What era do you think we are in now? Those bounty hunters who hunted wizards and sold them to the Puritans were wiped out by the twelve Aurors as early as the founding of the Magic Congress!"

"As you said, the Purgers are bounty criminals, greedy villains chasing gold. How can we possibly wipe out such people?"

"What do you mean?"

Graves stopped checking the documents and stared at him warily. "Did you receive any secret information about the Purgers? From where? London, England, or Romania? No, it's Budapest, right?!"

As a senior Auror from an Auror family, Graves has a very keen sense of smell in this area.

The Purgers of the New World era did whatever it took to get gold. They captured wizard criminals who had fled to the United States in exchange for bounties, and sold wizards to Puritans who hunted witches. After the establishment of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, many criminals did escape justice.

Some of them married and had children, hiding in the country, secretly hating the Magic Congress;

Some of them fled to other countries and continued to engage in dark wizard activities, becoming notorious.

"..."

Melvin knew immediately that they hadn't received the news yet, since the Romanian side couldn't confirm the identity of the mastermind either, and would probably submit the case file to the International Wizarding Federation. He gave a thoughtful look, looked at the anxious middle-aged director, and chuckled softly, "I don't know the exact information either, but I can give you some clues. There's been a very serious dragon egg theft case in Romania recently, which is said to be related to the Purgers and the New Salem Charity Association."

"Second Salem!"

Graves's expression grew serious.

This was an old friend of the Graves family, Salem, and even the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Unlike the loose-knit Purgers, this was a group of organized and disciplined No-Maj fanatics who had been obsessed with exposing and eliminating wizards since the late 17th century.

Seventy years ago, if it weren't for Newt Scamander and his dangerous animals, MACUSA would have been nearly exposed.

"Are you sure the theft is related to them?"

"Not sure."

Melvin decisively denied it, putting away his wand and suitcase as he said, "However, if we solve this serious case, we should be able to wash away the shame of the Graves family. The credit will be enough for a smooth promotion to Deputy Director of the Auror Office, and perhaps even Director of the Law Enforcement Department within a few years..."

"Wash away the shame...get a smooth promotion..."

Graves listened to his whispers and felt that this guy was a devil who tempted people to fall into depravity, a poisonous snake who tricked people into eating red fruit, but he had to admit that this fruit was indeed very tempting.

Melvin had a faint smile on his face. He did not deceive or mislead the Auror, but just cleverly concealed some irrelevant clues and information.

Ilvermorny and the like are not in the criminal confession files.

Walking out of the Woolworth Building, Melvin turned around and waved at him with a bright smile:
"Good luck, Mr. Graves!"

……

Broadway, Gershwin Theatre.

There weren't many people or cars at the intersection. It was only nine in the morning, not yet lunchtime, so the theater was not open to the public. Only a few tourists who were visiting and checking in hurriedly passed by. It wasn't until two in the afternoon that the place slowly became lively.

The sun gradually rose and the air became hot.

A slender figure strolled along the street in front of the theater, holding a glass of iced American coffee. As he walked, he looked at the posters, his eyebrows tightly knitted together, and muttered that this thing was not for human consumption, but he still took small sips to savor it.

The decoration and furnishings have not changed much, and the classic plays are still the same. Judging from the poster portraits, the theater is still using the stage special effects he designed. After all, both magic and technology can achieve the same effect, it's just a little more complicated.

Melvin sipped his coffee expressionlessly, recalling the days when he first worked here. Nothing particularly special happened. He was too young to feel nostalgic when he saw familiar scenes.

Occasionally, there are staff members coming in and out. It is not clear whether they are behind the scenes or maintenance workers. They should be the same group of people.

Someone seemed to notice that the figure looked familiar, and just as they were about to confirm it, a car with an unusually heavy engine drove by, remembering the regrets often expressed by the theater manager and owner.

There was a bang.

The figure disappeared across the street.

The staff member blinked vigorously, thinking that he might be too tired from work and needed to go to the nearby cafe for an iced American coffee.

……

After half an hour.

In the suburbs of Berkshire County, Massachusetts, at the foot of Mount Greylock.

The winding and rugged mountain road turned here, and walking forward would lead to the next town. Melvin was not in a hurry to return to Ilvermorny. He just found a fast food restaurant, filled his stomach with fried chicken and Coke, and then hiked up the mountain.

After all, it is a magic school, and Ilvermorny still has the necessary protective magic such as the Muggle-Repelling Charm and the Apparition Ban. However, for wizards, the mountain roads are not difficult to walk on, and the animals in the forest are also very friendly to Melvin.

In mid-August, in a temperate continental climate, some maple leaves have already turned yellow.

The top of a mountain in the distance was shrouded in mist. Looking closely, one could vaguely see a castle, with the spire of the tower faintly visible in the depths of the mist.

If you are a Muggle without magic, you will probably only see some stones and treetops. Even if you stand in front of the castle, you will only see a pile of rubble and ruins.

Melvin put on a coat and walked slowly up the mountain, looking left and right at the scenery along the road, occasionally scaring a passing squirrel, or being scared by a viper disguised as fallen leaves.

The air in the town is hot, but when you get near the top of the mountain, the altitude goes up, the temperature drops, and you feel a little cold.

The long-horned water snake always says that it doesn't like to stay on the top of the mountain, especially in autumn and winter, when the temperature is too low and it will feel sleepy. For this long-lived magical animal, hibernation may last for several years or even decades.

"..."

Melvin slowly approached the castle and looked at the four statues standing before him. The gems inlaid with them emitted four colors of light. The stream beside them meandered down the mountain, and the sparse leaves cast mottled light and shadows.

He still felt a little emotional.

Ilvermorny does not have a gamekeeper position. Security patrols are usually carried out by Pukki, a distant relative of the European fairies. They are short, with gray skin, long and wide ears, and possess powerful magical abilities.

They are the native inhabitants of Greylock and were originally reluctant to interact with humans. It was Isolt Searle who established a deep friendship with them when he founded the school. Generations of mutual assistance have led to the development of Pukki becoming an employed staff member of the school.

The principal pays them and they are responsible for miscellaneous work in the castle, including security, cleaning, catering, etc.

Similar to the house-elves at Hogwarts, but with a much higher status, basically on par with wizards.

Warning magic and peepholes were set up around the statue. When they detected unexpected magical fluctuations, a Pukchi immediately conducted a secret investigation. Seeing that it was a former student, he hurried back to tell the wizard who stayed at the school.

The current principal, Gilbert Fontana, is dedicated to his duties. Unlike a certain white-bearded principal, he will not push the work to the vice-principal. He is the one who stays in school during the summer vacation.

"Isn't this Mr. Lewynter, the man who dropped out of school to teach elective courses at Hogwarts? Why is he here in Ilvermorny?"

Principal Fontana is about sixty years old, with a loud voice. He has only two tufts of gray hair at his temples. He is in good health and has a rosy complexion.

The wizard community is still relatively young, and the content of their speech also reveals youth, and their tone is deeply rooted in the essence of that kind of weirdness.

Melvin was not surprised at all. Hogwarts was the most famous magic school in the world. The founder of Ilvermorny came from there. The headmaster was determined to catch up and usually paid more attention to the situation there. It was normal for him to know his experience.

He didn't answer such a sensitive question. With a serious expression, he said, "Principal Fontana, I've come back to inform you that Ilvermorny is involved in a serious international case with dire consequences!"

"?"

(End of this chapter)