Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 183 Skritch
It's getting daylight.

Unfortunately, Percy stayed up too late and was so exhausted that he couldn't get up early and missed the Prophet's morning news.

Under the leadership of editor-in-chief Gufie, the Prophet's Newspaper has learned to produce video news, summarizing a fixed format and routine. It begins by reporting recent news from the Ministry of Magic, the implementation of related policies, personnel changes, and interesting anecdotes about some officials. Next, it broadcasts news from all over Britain, about which unlucky person mispronounced a spell and ended up in the hospital, the chaos caused by the exodus of magical creatures, and finally, the new merchants from other countries who have arrived in Diagon Alley.

The content wasn't exactly boring, but it wasn't particularly interesting either. Only some of the information was valuable, and most of it was easily forgotten.

In fact, many pure-blood wizard families have developed the habit of turning on the telescope during breakfast, listening to the news while eating, and passing the boring time in the early morning.

The Mirror is still in its early stages, and its content is quite rudimentary, consisting of just a few programs played repeatedly: Quidditch fun games, Animal World Jungle Edition, the female singer's new album, and the Prophet's News.

If there's anything about the mirror that's more advanced than a television, it's probably that alchemical creations are more durable than technological ones; even after playing for several days straight, the mirror won't overheat.

That's how the mirrors in the Hogwarts common room work. After a day and a night of screenings, some young wizards couldn't take it anymore and went back to their dormitories to sleep, their minds still hazy. The mirrors only consumed some Floo Powder.

When Percy opened his eyes, his younger brother Ron was lying opposite him on the sofa, sleeping crookedly with traces of drool around his mouth, while Scabbers, the mouse, was being held in his arms, sleeping just as peacefully.

"Uh……"

Percy felt extremely tired. He had been staying up late and was sleep-deprived. He was feeling dizzy, his eyes were itchy and swollen, and his whole body ached.

I've stayed up all night before during holidays and big banquets, but never this late, it was almost 3 or 4 in the morning. I didn't feel tired while watching the mirror, but it was incredibly mentally taxing. I didn't get a proper wash and rest afterwards, I just lay on the sofa for a few hours and didn't recover at all.

No, I'm never staying up late again.

Percy slowly got up, supporting himself on the sofa. He felt light on his feet. As he went upstairs, he looked back at the mirror and saw a group of classmates gathered in front of him. He wondered if they were early risers or hadn't slept at all.

……

Lunchtime, first floor auditorium.

"Melvin, could you pass me some jam?" Professor Flitwick, sitting on a stool, reached out and beckoned to Melvin, who was two seats away.

"Cranberry jam or orange marmalade?" Melvin asked casually.

“Both jams are delicious, but I prefer the raspberry jam.” Flitwick took the jam and smiled. “Thank you very much.”

With a bang, the jam jar cap was unscrewed, and the half-elf professor spread a few spoonfuls on a slice of bread, then casually handed it to Minerva next to him. Professor McGonagall naturally took it as well. From their student days to now, the two had worked together for decades and their tastes were very similar.

“I’ve been wondering this since this morning, why are there so few students eating today?” Flitwick looked around the auditorium and answered his own question, “Is it because it’s Sunday?”

Professor McGonagall glanced around, somewhat puzzled: "There shouldn't be so few. In the past, some students would skip the auditorium for meals on weekends, eating snacks and desserts in the common room or having picnics by the lake, but that was only a minority. Today, at least half of the students are absent."

She seemed to remember something, turned to look at Melvin, and frowned slightly: "Is it because of the mirror?"

"..."

Melvin blinked, his expression innocent.

What do you mean? Why are you looking at him?
Wasn't it you, Vice Principal, who authorized the students to connect to the Filo network?
He had issued a warning beforehand and fulfilled his responsibilities as an elective course professor. Even if the Shadow Mirror had a negative impact on students, the blame should not be placed on the founder of the Shadow Mirror.

Professor McGonagall looked at the empty seats at the college table, her brows furrowing and her expression gradually becoming serious.

……

“Harry, what should we bring Ron? Beef pie or apple pie?” Harry asked Hermione, sitting at the Gryffindor table.

"Has he become this lazy?" Hermione asked incredulously. "He stays up all night instead of going back to his dorm, sleeps through breakfast, and doesn't even want to eat lunch in the Great Hall?"

"You know, this is their first time using the mirror, they'll get used to it in a while."

Harry didn't find it strange. When he lived with the Dursleys, his aunt and uncle would go out to celebrate Dudley's birthday, leaving him alone at home. He would watch TV all day, eat the leftover pizza from the fridge for lunch, and drink beverages when he was thirsty, enjoying himself to the fullest until he heard a car drive into the garage.

"And for Scabbers' lunch, give him a donut; mice always love that." Harry said, sounding like a competent restaurant deliveryman.

“Oh, Scabbers, the rat…” Hermione frowned in disgust.

Since finding the mouse, Ron has been inseparable from it, eating and sleeping together. She simply cannot understand why a bald, missing-toe mouse should be kept in a cage.

“Don’t say that, Hermione…” Harry paused, recalling the appearance of the rat, and also found it hard to accept. “Ron is from a pure-blood family. It’s normal for wizards to keep some unusual pets. Professor Levent even keeps snakes!”

Hermione glanced at the main seat and shook her head, saying, "Eurm is much cuter than Scabbers."

……

Melvin walked slowly down the spiral staircase to the castle's basement. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon.

The Hogwarts basement was originally a cold, dark dungeon with stone-built corridors branching off in several directions: the middle one, dimly lit by candlelight, led to the Potions classroom and Professor Snape's office, where Nick's death anniversary party was held.

To the left, a winding path extends to the bottom of the Black Lake, where Slytherin's common room and dormitories are located.

The brightest line on the right is Melvin's destination, leading to the Hufflepuff common room and the Hogwarts kitchen.

Footsteps sounded, and Melvin turned to see a blonde little witch stepping out of the shadows into the torchlight, dressed in a Hufflepuff wizard's robe and carrying a fruit basket.

"Good afternoon, Professor Levent," the girl greeted cheerfully.

“Good afternoon, Hannah.” Melvin nodded with a smile. “The kitchen is in this direction, right? I heard the way to open the door is to make a picture of fruit laugh.”

"Go inside and you'll see it. Remember to tickle the armpit of that pear."

Hannah Abbott was a typical Hufflepuff, gentle in nature. She was in the same year as Hermione and the others, a sophomore, and wouldn't be able to take Muggle Studies until next year. Melvin knew her quite well, since Old Tom of the Leaky Cauldron also shared the surname Abbott and had a good relationship with Hannah's mother, often mentioning her in casual conversation. Melvin turned right and entered the bright firelight. Everywhere were old oil paintings, unlike the talking wizard portraits upstairs; these mainly depicted food: golden-brown roasted turkeys, snow-white cream cakes, mashed potatoes, and butter cookies…

They are all warm and bright colors, which make people feel happy just by looking at them.

The most eye-catching one depicts a huge silver bowl filled with fruit.

Melvin examined it carefully for a moment, then reached out and scratched the emerald green pear. The pear immediately began to wriggle and chuckle, its outline becoming more pronounced, gradually transforming into a large green doorknob.

Pull the doorknob, and you'll find yourself in Hogwarts' kitchen.

The kitchen, with its nearly ten-meter-high ceiling and the size of the Great Hall, was as magnificent as the Chamber of Secrets in Slytherin. The exquisite stove was filled with pots and pans, and the countertops and cabinets were filled with spotless plates and cutlery, reflecting one's image. At the far end of the room was a brick fireplace.

The heat was intense, and the air was filled with the sweet aroma of bread and the savory smell of stewed beans.

Several hurried footsteps approached, all of them short and thin figures, standing in front of Melvin, wearing simple aprons and still carrying kitchen utensils in their hands.

"Professor Levent, is there anything you need that you've come all this way for?"

One of the house-elves asked in a high-pitched voice, “There’s stew in the pot for dinner, and pies and pies are freshly baked in the oven. If you’d like anything else, we can make it right away and won’t keep you waiting long.”

“There’s nothing I need. I’m just doing a research project with very obscure information. Perhaps some of you elves know the information I need,” Melvin said with a gentle smile.

“Professor Levent, please let me know if you need anything!” the house-elf in the middle exclaimed excitedly, with the other elves clearly taking him as their leader. “The elves are happy to help you!”

House-elves are absolutely loyal servants. Since the school was founded a thousand years ago, Helga Hufflepuff has found these house-elves and arranged for them to become part of the teaching staff. They have lived here for generations, taking care of the students' daily lives and handling the castle's daily chores.

Of course, this mutual assistance is two-way.

Hogwarts is cared for by these house-elves, and the teachers and students ensure they have jobs and are not mistreated.

At first, there were only a few students. As Hogwarts gradually became famous, more wizards sent their children here for education. As the number of teachers and students increased, the number of house-elves providing living services also increased. Following the founder's instructions, successive headmasters recruited some homeless house-elves.

Based on the timeline, the downfall of the Lestrange family coincided with Dumbledore's term of office. Given the headmaster's personality, he might have recruited the Lestrange family's elves.

Melvin, on a whim, asked, "Has any of you ever worked for the Lestrange family?"

"The Lestrange family? The family of Mr. Labastan Lestrange, Mr. Rodolphs Lestrange, and Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange?"

The house-elf shuddered, as if remembering something terrible, and turned its head sharply, calling out, "Sketch! Sketch! Professor Levent is looking for you!"

The huge kitchen suddenly fell silent, with only the soft sounds of the stove remaining in the room. The fire burned quietly, and the stew bubbled gently. All the house-elves looked into the depths of the room, into the shadows to the right of the fireplace.

A figure slowly emerged from the shadows. The other elves were thin, with their flesh and skin clinging tightly to their bones, but this elf was covered in skin tags. His skin seemed to be several times more than his body actually needed. A bunch of white hairs grew in his ears, and his eyes were cloudy. He looked very old.

Melvin slowly crouched down, looking the elderly house-elf in the eye: "Are you called Scripps?"

“My original name was Satchi. Skrich was the name my mistress gave me after she married into the family.” Skrich’s voice was hoarse and deep, completely different from the other elves with high-pitched voices. “It means a piercing scream. My mistress thought the screams I made when I was punished for my mistakes were very unpleasant.”

Melvin paused for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Do you know that your former master is currently serving time in Azkaban?"

“I know, I know…” Scripp’s body trembled slightly, and tears welled up in his cloudy eyes. “Their family are all… all followers of that man, that wizard whose name cannot even be mentioned. They treated me like a pest under his command, until… until Mr. Potter defeated that man.”

This remark sparked discussion among the other house-elves.

"Do you hate them?" Melvin asked.

"..."

Scripps wiped away his tears with his apron, remained silent for a long time, and did not answer: "Professor Levent, is there anything I can do for you?"

“Listen, Scripps, I need your help. I want to know the exact location of the Lestrange Old House.”

"Sir, may I know why?"

“That’s an abandoned house, it’s been deserted for 12 years,” Melvin sighed softly, giving an irrelevant answer.

“I once thought I had escaped there… because if my masters hadn’t suffered misfortune, my head might have been chopped off and thrown into the rubbish heap long ago,” Scripps said in a low voice. “But I know that I am still a house-elf, a slave of House Lestrange, sir. We keep our masters’ secrets, we remain silent, we uphold the honor of our family, and we never betray them.”

Melvin rubbed his temples, feeling a bit of a headache.

These house-elves can be more troublesome than wizards when they get stubborn. Wizards, for their own benefit, can at least be coerced or bribed into making a deal, but house-elves, when they get stubborn, don't even care about their own lives.

Melvin thought for a moment and then tried a roundabout approach: "The Lestrange Old House doesn't refuse visitors. If I have an invitation from the host, it doesn't count as betrayal. You should show me the way, right?"

“The wizards of the Lestrange family are all in Azkaban now,” Scripps said quietly.

"Therefore, the old house should be inherited by other blood relatives."

"Both the Ecovacs bloodline and the Cyril bloodline have been extinguished, and there are no other heirs."

“The Lestrange family doesn’t have any, but Bellatrix has her own sisters.”

Skritch's expression changed; his cloudy eyes widened, and he stared blankly into space. "You mean, Ms. Narcissa Black?"

"Now it is Lady Narcissa Malfoy."

(End of this chapter)