Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 123 A good teacher and helpful friend
Seeing the handwriting on the paper, Melvin seemed to see the young Tom Riddle. Behind the casual question was a strong curiosity. After all, he was only a 16-year-old Dark Lord, and his scheming and patience were not deep enough.

Melvin raised the corners of his mouth and wrote casually:
"He looks like an average student with above-average grades. He's only slightly better than his peers in magic. I really don't understand how a Potter like him could have defeated You-Know-Who back then."

The diary was silent for a moment, and the words quietly changed: "What are these Voldemort and Death Eaters you mentioned? A group of dark wizards?"

As the original Horcrux, the diary carries fragments of Tom Riddle's soul in sixth grade, and his memory also stops around sixth grade. The past in history is the future of this soul.

The few words in Melvin's diary outline a corner of the future, vaguely glimpsing the huge storm caused by Voldemort and the Death Eaters, followed by the heavy blow brought by Harry Potter.

The information revealed was so irritating that Riddle couldn't suppress his strong curiosity.

Melvin was very patient with this close friend:

"You were created so long ago that you might not know it. In the 70s, 20 years ago, the powerful Dark wizard Voldemort rose to power. His Death Eaters grew in strength, dragging the entire British wizarding community into a vortex of terror. They were an extremist organization that believed in pure-blood supremacy, killing and eliminating heretics who opposed them, causing the wrath of the entire wizarding world."

The ink marks fell on the paper, and the overflowed ink was quickly absorbed and dried, but the handwriting did not disappear immediately, as if Riddle deliberately kept it to carefully appreciate and savor the information revealed in this passage.

The powerful dark wizard Voldemort.

The Death Eaters grew in power.

Reign of terror, killing heretics.

What beautiful words...

The diary exuded the scent of ink, as if it was the laughter that escaped from the excited Riddle when he could no longer suppress it.

Mo Hen was shaken for a moment before slowly regaining his composure: "What about the Ministry of Magic? Didn't they stop the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord?"

Melvin sighed. "Voldemort is extremely skilled in the Dark Arts, practically the most powerful Dark wizard ever. The Ministry of Magic's Aurors and Striker are powerless to resist him. Even Dumbledore can only protect Hogwarts."

This time, without letting Riddle continue to reflect, Melvin paused for a moment and continued writing:

"The story turns on a night twelve years ago when Voldemort went after the Potters alone. They were a very special family, having escaped Voldemort and his Death Eaters three times. In the final battle, the Potters died, but infant Harry survived. Voldemort disappeared, never to be seen again."

The diary asked impatiently: "What happened that night?"

"No one knows. Everyone who knew about it has died. The only survivor was less than a year old at the time."

"Go find out!"

The words written in a state of panic appeared and then quickly disappeared, and the diary quickly changed its words: "I mean, I'm very curious about what happened that night. If I can find out the truth, maybe I can gain powerful magic to defeat the Dark Lord. What do you think?"

"Maybe..."

Melvin hesitated. He was just an assistant teacher and a Hufflepuff. He had some interest in pursuing wealth, but not in magical power. "I don't think this is a good idea, Tom. It could easily get you into trouble. Besides, even if it's powerful magic, I probably wouldn't be able to learn it."

The ink was quickly absorbed, but there was no response. Riddle must have felt a little disappointed with him.

The diary was silent for a moment, and then gently persuaded:

"Melvin, you're wrong. The pursuit of power is the mission of wizards. Only by gaining greater power and more powerful magic can we achieve our goals more easily, such as protecting more magical creatures."

"But... I don't have any talent in this area. When I was in school, my practical exam scores were only good at best." Melvin felt that he was a good actor.

As if sensing the intention behind the words, the diary became more optimistic: "Ordinary magic is like this: progress is slow and the results are weak. If you want to gain power, why not try black magic?"

"But..." Melvin cooperated and showed hesitation.

"I know what you're worried about. I've been exposed to the Dark Arts since I was in school, and I got full marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Do you know Durmstrang? Their school has a more open-minded attitude towards the Dark Arts. Just leave it to me. I'll teach you some Dark Arts without any side effects. You'll be fine."

"Okay, but if I feel any discomfort, I will stop immediately."

Melvin had a smile on his face and was in a good mood.

Since receiving the unicorn's gift, he has also been studying the Dark Arts, but he has only made minor breakthroughs in Fiendfyre, and has barely mastered the other Dark Arts. It's not easy to ask other professors or the principal for advice on this matter.

Now, self-study can never compare to the guidance of a famous teacher.

"Let's start with the classification of black magic. According to the degree of harm, it is divided into evil spells, poison spells, and curses..."

At the age of 16, Tom Riddle is already a master of the Dark Arts. He has mastered cutting-edge Dark Arts, mastered the Unforgivable Curses, recovered the Horcruxes and even went a step further. He has learned the true teachings of his master, Hercule, and pieced together the clues to the Chamber of Secrets from clues, and found Slytherin's relics...

The underlying magic principles he explains are simple and easy to understand, and there are endless tips for practical exercises.

No wonder he always wanted to come back to be a professor after graduation. He really has the potential to be a good teacher.

However, compared to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the pure Dark Arts class can better display his talents.

"Isn't the cutting spell more convenient than the finger-removing spell?"

"The Cutting Curse is just an ordinary spell. Torture and pain are the core of the Dark Arts."

The questions raised by Melvin can be answered immediately, and the problems encountered during practice can be solved on the spot. It is as if he is back in his student days, wandering in the ocean of knowledge.

"Wouldn't it be more effective to focus on the thumb?"

"Melvin, I must say, you are very talented."

A brilliant master of the dark arts is diligently studying.

……

Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Harry and his friends sat in the corner, the table was covered with Lockhart's adventure story books, in front of him sat the fat Neville, and Harry tried to reduce his presence as much as possible, praying that Lockhart would not notice him.

It's been almost a week since school started, and I've had two Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. The first half of the first class was a fan questionnaire, the second half was about Cornish elves wreaking havoc in the classroom, and the second class was a stage play performance.

Four hours of their lives had been wasted, and they had learned nothing except Lockhart's personal preferences. They had already begun to see Lockhart's true face.

"Merlin, I hope Lohart is looking for me to play the snowman," Harry prayed silently.

Hermione next to her opened her mouth, but had nothing to say.

By now, she also knew that the Defense Against the Dark Arts class was a waste of time. The adventurer in the storybook was completely different from the real Lockhart. Not to mention the ferocious werewolves and vampires, the professor couldn't even deal with elves.

Last year, Quirrell had real talent and could really learn something in class, but this year, Lockhart had nothing in his head and could only learn about his favorite color. As she flipped through these expensive storybooks, she made a decision in her heart.

The class bell rang, and Professor Lockhart pushed the door open and walked in with a bright smile:
"Kids, today we're going to learn about vampires. Yes, it's the content of 'Traveling with Vampires'. In order to give you a more realistic experience, I need someone to play the role of a vampire with me."

Harry tried to bury his head in the table.

"Harry! Harry!"

His expression gradually turned to despair. After two hours of torture, by the end of get out of class, Harry was pale, his eyes glazed over, and he returned to his seat in a daze, looking like a vampire with a silver dagger driven into his heart.

Ron put his arm around his shoulders and whispered in his ear, "Let's go to the Great Hall for dinner. Colin is waiting for you."

Harry's body shook twice, and his expression became even more desperate.

Colin Creevey was a freshman in Gryffindor and also his ardent fan. He would squat in the hall and common room every day to ask him to take autographed photos, which caused a lot of jokes.

"Stop provoking him."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. "Let's get down to business. I think Defense Against the Dark Arts is a waste of time. We won't learn anything useful. Let's go get tutoring from Professor Lewynter."

"Tuition?"

Harry and Ron blinked.

Hermione nodded. "I asked Percy for his second-year notes, which list the spells we need to learn. We'll ask Professor Lewinter for guidance!"

……

Friday, September 4th.

The last class in the afternoon was Muggle Studies for fourth graders, which mainly talked about the development history of Muggles in modern times, the main differences from the coal age to the oil age, looked forward to the future development direction, briefly introduced the role of petroleum products, and laid the foundation for the fifth grade curriculum.

The bell rang, signaling the official arrival of the first weekend of the school year.

After waiting for all the little wizards to leave, Melvin slowly left the classroom with the textbooks. At this time, the peak of classes had passed and the corridors were empty, so he didn't have to squeeze with them.

The diary was in his own hands, and no other dark wizards had sneaked into the school. A week after school started, there was no unrest or trouble. Everything was peaceful at Hogwarts. Melvin attended classes during the day and at night, and his life was very fulfilling.

It feels like I’m back in my student days.

Melvin turned into the stairs, his mind still thinking about the dark arts. Professor Riddle's class had already reached the stage of poison spells.

There were footsteps on the back stairs. Professor Sprout came down from upstairs. Seeing Melvin coming down alone, he smiled and said, "Melvin, did you just finish class?"

"Good afternoon, Professor Sprout. How do we get down from up there?"

The short professor of herbal medicine had flowing gray hair and a gentle smile. "I asked Setima to tell me about the weather and the moon phases. Next Friday will be the fullest moon of the year, and I have a batch of herbs that need to be bathed in the moonlight. However, the clouds have been a bit thick these past few days, and I'm worried about rain."

"how is the situation?"

"Excellent, sunny weather for the next two weeks."

"..."

The two walked to the auditorium together and talked about the grafting of snake tree cuttings. Professor Sprout said last time that it required special magic to cultivate it, but he did not give up privately. He set up a small greenhouse for the snake tree and tried his own method.

We walked and talked until we reached the third floor.

There was a burst of crying and screaming from the bathroom.

"You're making fun of me!"

"You chased me into the bathroom to make fun of me!"

The voice was so sharp and shrill that it hurt my ears.

With the sound of a toilet flush and splashing water, Qiu Zhang and Marietta Aikman ran out of the bathroom, looking regretful, with some water stains on their wizard robes, and in a panic.

Seeing the two professors, he immediately stopped and nodded in greeting: "Professor Lewinter, Professor Sprout."

Sprout waved his wand to dry their robes and smooth their hair. "How could you be so careless as to go into Myrtle's bathroom?"

"Qiu came back from the court and wanted to wash her face with cold water, but the restrooms on the first and second floors were all empty." Marietta patted her chest, still feeling a lingering fear. "We won't dare to do that next time. I'd rather climb one more floor to the fourth floor."

"..."

Qiu Zhang nodded silently, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Be careful next time."

"Okay professor, bye professor."

Sprout watched the two little witches leave together, then glanced at the bathroom and explained to Melvin, "You've only been here for two years, so you might not know. Myrtle is the school's ghost. She's different from other ghosts. She's a student who died in school..."

……

"...According to her account, on the day of the incident, she was being teased about her appearance by classmates and had gone to cry in a bathroom stall. She heard a boy whispering, so she opened the stall door and saw two yellow flashes of light. She died instantly."

"Tom, my friend, do you think it could be some kind of dark magic?"

In the office after dinner, Melvin wrote down the news he heard during the day in his diary and asked his close friend for advice with a meaningful smile on his face.

"This accident was quite a big deal. I seem to have some recollection of it."

The ink in the diary moved quickly, whether in triumph or a cover-up. "After her death, Myrtle refused to leave, wandering around Hogwarts, harassing and terrorizing students who had mocked her. This ultimately led to an Auror investigation. The case revealed that her killer was a giant acromantula, a Class 5X dangerous creature belonging to a student named Rubeus Hagrid."

"Rubeau Hagrid? The gamekeeper at Hogwarts?"

"Dumbledore violated the rules and recruited this murderer."

The handwriting lingered for a moment, then quickly faded. The diary had no intention of dwelling on this topic: "There's no point in delving into this decades-old case, Melvin. We should practice the dark arts."

Melvin was a little surprised.

As Riddle's first murder, and the diary Horcrux he created from this murder, Melvin thought Riddle would be proud of it, but from his expression, he did not seem as proud as expected.

Melvin filled the quill with ink and thought for a moment before putting pen to paper, ready to try to find out more about the situation indirectly.

"Dong dong dong..."

A knock on the door suddenly sounded.

"Who?"

"It's me, Professor." The answer came in a childish voice.

Draco?
Melvin casually put the diary into the drawer and waved to unlock the door: "Come in."

(End of this chapter)