Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 156 Christmas 1992
"Bliss..."

Dumbledore took a sip of hot cocoa, squinted his eyes in satisfaction, his expression relaxed and leisurely, his beard and hair casually disheveled, he was wearing a sky blue robe, sitting behind his desk with an old diary spread out in front of him.

The portraits of past principals on the wall were already asleep, with their heads lowered, nostrils moving, and breathing evenly.

On the shelf was a phoenix that had just been reborn from the ashes. All of its gorgeous feathers had been burned to ashes, and new ones hadn't grown out yet. Its entire body was a wrinkled, flesh-colored pink, looking extremely ugly.

Fawkes was crouched in the Sorting Hat, his eyelids drooping limply, his head nodding, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep.

Dumbledore held the quill in his hand, thought for a moment, and then slowly wrote on the paper:

"Christmas 1992 is approaching. The wizarding world has been peaceful over the past year, and the teachers and students of Hogwarts have spent another semester together. We are about to usher in a new year, and it will be a new beginning."

“The Christmas decorations in the auditorium are very beautiful.”

"We still have some problems to deal with. Cornelius and the board of directors are going to review the school. Professor Lockhart won't be fully recovered anytime soon. My Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is absent again, so Minerva and Melvin will have to cover for me."

The diary gave no response.

Dumbledore was a little disappointed. He put down his quill and turned the page. The handwriting left a few days ago was still the same, neat and thick, without any changes caused by absorption.

"Tom, if you don't show up, I'm going to burn this diary."

The diary finally responded, and the words on the yellowed pages began to vibrate, revealing words venting anger.

"Are you finally willing to take off your hypocritical mask? Dumbledore!"

"You can't hide it from me. You write a diary with false feelings to disguise yourself because you can't deal with Voldemort. You can't kill me. The real me is still alive!"

"Destroying my diary won't kill me! Don't try to get any information out of me!"

Dumbledore couldn't help but smile.

The person in the diary is 16-year-old Tom Riddle, and the person outside is the 111-year-old old headmaster. I wonder if this can be considered a reunion of teacher and student after nearly fifty years.

"Perhaps you are right, Tom, that Horcruxes are a vile way of evading death, but there are many other ways to destroy a person, and your failure proves that point."

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore raised the corner of his mouth. Compared to the adult Voldemort in the crown, the 16-year-old Tom was much easier to communicate with:
"Really? Then, if I destroy this diary, would that be equivalent to killing the 16-year-old you?"

"..."

There were traces of ink floating on the diary, and it seemed as if one could see through the paper that young and immature face, cursing hysterically.

Dumbledore sipped his hot cocoa and continued to wait patiently.

Outside the window, a crescent moon hung on the top of the tower. The night was still long and the old man always suffered from insomnia, so they had plenty of time to have a conversation.

……

Christmas morning.

Melvin felt like the window seemed to be leaking a little, and there was always a cold breeze blowing on his face, very weak, almost imperceptible. If it hadn't been blowing cool, he wouldn't have felt it at all.

At the same time, a faint hissing sound was heard right next to my ear.

"..."

Melvin opened his eyes and met a pair of dark eyes. The corners of his forehead were almost touching the tip of his nose. No wonder he felt cold.

It was unknown how long the young snake had been awake. It crawled out of the wizard hat that served as its makeshift nest, and did not run around or make any trouble. It just coiled up beside the pillow and stared at him.

It is obviously a weird and terrifying thing, but when it happens to this young snake, it doesn't seem so strange.

Wash up, change clothes, and leave the bedroom.

In the open space in the center of the office, there are piles of gift packages of various sizes. Some are beautifully wrapped paper boxes, and some are randomly shaped burlap bags. There are quite a lot of them, and there are hundreds of greeting cards alone.

Melvin only recognized some of the names on the cards. He could recall their faces: Ms. Marchbank, owners of pubs from various places, colleagues from school, students who graduated last year, and some shopkeepers in Hogsmeade.

The rest is more unfamiliar.

Melvin casually opened a greeting card:
"Dear Professor Melvin Levant: We write to you with deep gratitude to express our profound appreciation for your guidance and support. Under your guidance, our son Marcus Flint became a warrior who stood up to the Basilisk...

Warmest Christmas wishes again, little Ursula Flint."

"Ursula Flint Jr., Amos Diggory, Augusta Longbottom..."

Melvin opened a few more greeting cards and looked at the familiar surnames. He realized belatedly that these were the parents of students.

The cards basically thanked him for his guidance and for giving their children the opportunity to be famous in the newspaper. The gifts included were different. Old Lady Longbottom gave rare herbs, Mrs. Weasley gave a hand-sewn wallet and raisin cake, and others included some potions and the like...

The most common thing is books. They seem to think that professors should like reading.

Mrs. Flint's gift was the most direct, a gold brick weighing about 3 pounds.

I don’t know how much suffering the owl went through before it was sent here.

Yurm was wriggling in and out among the pile of packages, with half of its body squeezed into the gap, leaving only its tail hanging outside, swaying slightly. It seemed to enjoy the feeling of crawling in the dark and narrow space, and it hissed excitedly.

As the packages were opened one by one, the baby snake hid deeper and deeper.

Putting aside those gifts that are based on personal relationships, the gifts from last year's graduates seemed more sincere. Some were souvenirs from their graduation trips, some were things related to their first jobs, some were potions they brewed themselves, some were ancient magical items after curses were removed, and some were lost teeth or claws from pet animals.

The gifts given by colleagues at school are similar to last year, each with its own style.

Dumbledore gave a set of wizard adventure story books, the kind with illustrations, which told the story of a wizard's secluded life in a remote village in the 17th century. There were five chapters in total. The wizard used five unconventional magics to deal with the corresponding troubles, and finally lived happily with the villagers.

Melvin was well prepared for this. He gave the principal a copy of Andersen's fairy tales, a dark cult version.

Professor Snape did not send the antidote to the muteness potion that he had given me last year, but instead sent a piece of parchment with a small evil curse written on it.

"The Tongue-Locking Curse: It sticks the victim's tongue to the roof of their mouth, preventing them from speaking..."

Melvin found it amusing.

Normally, the purpose of this spell is to prevent the enemy from casting spells during a duel, but considering that it was given by Professor Snape, it seems full of malice no matter how you think about it.

Fortunately, the gift he gave was not bad, it was a high-quality bird-snake egg shampoo, which he got from Lockhart and was very suitable for Snape.

……

The hall and corridors were brightly decorated. The castle, decorated by the teachers and students themselves, looked magnificent and grand, with a touch more fun than the streets of Hogsmeade. A dozen Christmas trees covered in silver frost, thick ribbons of mistletoe and holly hung on the walls, and magical snowflakes floated from the dome, making it warm and dry.

Hagrid walked into the hall in the snow, shook the snow off his shoulders, and his boots made wet footprints on the ground. He walked all the way to the Great Hall. When he passed the fir Christmas tree he had dragged in, he couldn't help but look up.

It is completely different from the original tree. The candlelight is flickering and the ornaments are sparkling, like a fine work of art.

Not only him, but even Mrs. Norris, who was following the footprints, looked up with her eyes wide open, following these shiny things, and temporarily let go of the big man who had soiled the hallway.

"hey-hey……"

Hagrid sat down at the back of the guest of honor table, took out the Daily Prophet from the pocket of his moleskin coat, unfolded the newspaper, which was almost the size of his palm, and read it carefully.

The main content is still a series of reports on school secret rooms.

"Shock! A legendary wizard without a descendant, the four descendants of the founders are investigating..."

"Slytherin's unknown secrets, besides the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk, there's also..."

"The inside story of the quarrel between Slytherin and Gryffindor, the reasons behind their love-hate relationship..."

I don’t know if it’s because it’s a Christmas special, but the titles of these reports always feel weird to read, but they just attract people to read on. Even Hagrid, who doesn’t like reading newspapers, became more and more fascinated as he read.

Ever since the locked room incident was reported in the newspaper yesterday, he has been following the related reports. He read the newspaper at night, hid in the wooden house and cried in his arms until midnight, then got up in the middle of the night to go to the Three Broomsticks and the Pig's Head Bar to listen to people's discussions, listen to the drinkers' repeated analysis, and also listen to some groundless associations.

Whenever he heard those people talking about the old case from fifty years ago and mentioned that they had been cleared of suspicion, he felt extremely happy.

I couldn't resist breaking my vow to abstain from alcohol and downed a bottle of Firewhisky.

Hagrid looked around the hall and didn't see Harry and the others. Taking the opportunity to cover his mouth and cough, he lowered his head and sniffed his clothes. He found that there was no obvious smell. The smell of alcohol had been blown away by the wind and snow. He felt relieved.

Turning to the last page of the newspaper, I saw a report by Rita Skeeter, the golden reporter who had disappeared for a long time.

"Regarding an old case from fifty years ago, reporters interviewed Director Rufus Scrimgeour of the Department of Law Enforcement. Scrimgeour stated that the sentence against Rubeus Hagrid was correct, and that the Ministry of Magic did not pin the murder on him due to insufficient evidence. However, the student's unauthorized keeping of a dangerous magical animal was a serious violation of school rules and regulations, and expulsion from school was justified."

Hagrid remembered that Auror who had come last year when he was investigating the unicorn. He had a cold look on his face and was indeed very annoying.

"...The reporter also interviewed Ms. Amelia Bones, who disagreed. She said that for underage students, expulsion was already the most severe punishment, provided no casualties were caused. Breaking the wand was considered excessive."

"...After consultation with several Inquisitors, Rubeus Hagrid may, upon submitting a written request to the Ministry of Magic, go to Diagon Alley on his own to obtain a new wand."

Hagrid felt his nose sore again and his eyes were hot, but he did not cry. Instead, he muttered softly: "A bunch of idiots, fools, stupid guys, my wand is not destroyed at all."

As he spoke with a sob, he suddenly noticed a strange look in his eyes.

Hagrid turned his head and saw Melvin standing beside him, staring at him with a funny look on his face. Thinking of how he had cried in front of Melvin several times, he felt a little embarrassed and raised the newspaper and said hurriedly:

"Have you seen this news? That golden reporter has reappeared. She stopped making provocative remarks and even interviewed several Ministry of Magic officials, clarifying that breaking my wand was wrong. I'm starting to like her a little bit!"

The curve of Melvin's mouth became more obvious: "Really?"

"I thought she was a heartless journalist, but I didn't expect she had some integrity. Honestly, I plan to write a letter to thank her."

Hagrid sniffed, trying to hide his embarrassed expression, and brushed the matter off. His voice was much lighter: "By the way, did you receive the gift I gave you?"

"Got it. The Fox Charming Gloves are very warm. I like them very much."

"Hey, Yaya and I really like the beef jerky you gave us." He scratched his head. "How about I give this reporter a pair of gloves to show my gratitude?"

"Ms. Skeeter wouldn't like this."

"how do you know?"

"Guess..."

Melvin chatted with him for a few minutes and felt that the fireplace in the auditorium was too hot and a bit stuffy, so he prepared to go to the courtyard to get some fresh air.

Hagrid was going to read the newspaper twice more, but when Melvin walked away, he suddenly looked up and felt that something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Melvin seemed to be very familiar with the reporter.

why?

……

The courtyard is much more lively this year than last year.

A group of boys were playing snowball fights in the courtyard, chasing each other, playing wildly, shouting and screaming. The snowballs were getting bigger and harder, but no one backed down. Their clothes were soaked with snow water on the outside and sweat on the inside. They played until their hot heads cooled down, and then they went back indoors breathlessly.

Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick were watching from the corridor, their eyes narrowed and their faces covered with kind smiles.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Melvin."

There was one more professor standing side by side.

Melvin followed their gaze and saw Percy, the good student, who hadn't joined the snowball fight but was just watching from the side. He was wearing a sweater his mother had sewn for him, with a prefect badge pinned to his chest.

What's so cool about this?

Melvin took a few more glances, but didn't find anything wrong. He was a little curious: "What are you looking at?"

Dumbledore smiled and said, "Let's see when he discovers that his prefect badge has been transfigured."

Melvin took a closer look and was speechless. The letters on the badge had been changed. It originally said "Prefect", but someone had changed it to "Pinhead".

It was obvious that they were his brothers, the twins George and Fred.

Melvin couldn't help but glance at his two colleagues. It was okay for students to play pranks, but what was the big deal about you, a principal and a professor, gathering here to watch the students have fun?
He shook his head and started watching from the side.

More than one person discovered the Medal of Idiot. More and more students passed by Percy, looking at him with his chest puffed out and his head held high, with a forced smile on their faces.

Percy initially thought that they admired him, after all, he was also a warrior who defeated the basilisk, but there were too many strange looks and he began to feel something was wrong.

He looked down at his outfit today, noticed the medal on his chest, and his face immediately turned red.

"George! Fred!"

(End of this chapter)