Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 186 Lestrange

Dingworth, Cornwall.

On a gloomy weekend morning, the abandoned monastery stood on the edge of a cliff. The air was damp and cold, and a fine drizzle dampened the early spring flowers by the roadside.

Three figures walked along a path in a secluded valley, occasionally looking up to see the drizzle falling softly on the leaves, gathering into damp streaks that dripped down, making the bushes in early spring even greener, and reminding the elderly house-elf of many years ago.

Cornwall is a county in the southwest of England, renowned in both the wizarding world and Muggle society. It has a winding coastline and mysterious mines. Melvin knows that it was once a famous tin mining area. Professor Sprout always talks about how it has the world's largest greenhouse, built by Muggles and named Eden.

The wizards' records of magical history are much older and more ancient. In the highlands of Bodmin and the west, there live farmers and artisans skilled in farming and metalworking. Wizards here are accustomed to paying directly with precious metals, such as bronze, tin, and gold, when trading.

After the Romans abandoned England in the Middle Ages, the Normans militarily conquered England. With the Plantagenet dynasty ruling the country, many wizards who had followed William the Conqueror in his early years settled here and built their own manors.

According to historian Bathilda Baghatt, after the implementation of the Law of Secrecy of the International Confederation of Wizards in the 17th century, some wizarding families began to live among tolerant Muggles, and Tinworth, located on the coast, was one such wizarding family settlement.

The arithmetic diviner Bridget Winlock once lived here, and it was here that she discovered the magical properties of the number seven.

Whether out of respect for the Lestrange mansion or because of its age, Scripps couldn't remember the exact location of the estate. When he teleported Melvin and Dobby, he set the landing point outside the valley, making them walk a part of the way themselves.

"Dobby, did Lucius tell you everything?" Melvin asked, stepping on the soft, damp soil.

"Yes, sir..."

Dobby's voice was high-pitched, but his tone couldn't hide his disappointment.

Compared to the aged Skripal, he looked much more energetic. His young, elven skin, a greyish-green, clung to his bones with a taut, elastic texture. His two large, round eyes were moist and full of emotion, and his bat-wing-like ears revealed the veins beneath. He was wrapped in a tattered curtain.

“Mr. Malfoy instructed me to deliver the invitation and myself to Hogwarts, and to hand them over to you. From today onwards, you are my new master.” Dobby slunk away.

Skrych, standing nearby, cast a disdainful glance at Dobby, who lowered his head even further.

“You don’t seem very happy. Do you want to stay at Malfoy Manor, or am I making you feel uncomfortable?” Melvin looked at it with some surprise.

“No, no, it’s a great honor to have a new master like you…” Dobby’s eyes were filled with fear. “Mr. Levent is very famous, and it is an honor to be your servant. Harry Potter also said that you are a good person, kind and gentle, except for being a little mysterious at times.”

"Is that how Harry describes me?"

Melvin seemed thoughtful, then asked, "Then why do you look so disappointed?"

Scripps chuckled coldly, his voice hoarse and aged: "Because only unfit house-elves are given away by their masters. Truly loyal and dutiful house-elves are favored by their masters, who would rather have their heads chopped off and hung on the wall than let them go. The fact that Mr. Malfoy took the initiative to give him away proves that such a house-elf is incompetent and unfit!"

"Didn't you also leave the Lestrange family?" Melvin was speechless. He thought that because he worked for Hogwarts, he would be less servile, but it turned out he was just as servile-minded as anyone else.

"I was forced to leave!"

"Why don't you cut off your own head and hang it on the wall?"

"Only the owner has the right to cut off the head of a house-elf!"

"..."

Melvin shook his head, too lazy to bother with this stubborn old man. House-elves are all mentally unstable, and Dobby is no exception. He clearly doesn't want to serve the Malfoys, but he feels sad when he leaves.

“Life is your own, and you are the master of your own life. I know it’s hard for you to understand this concept, and I don’t want to educate you like students.” Melvin summoned a whirlwind to sweep the rain off Dobby. “Dobby, you are different from other house-elves. You have already touched freedom, and you know how precious it is. So I want to make a promise with you.”

"An agreement?" Dobby's eyes widened.

"Besides being a professor, I'm also a businessman. Business is all about buying and selling. I paid a price to get you from Malfoy, which can be considered a purchase. You work for me, providing labor and services. When you feel that the value you provide is enough to offset the price I paid, you can exchange it for your freedom and become your own master."

Melvin looked up and saw that they were almost out of the valley.

"Business, price, freedom..."

Dobby looked somewhat confused, yet also a little happy. He couldn't fully understand what the young professor was saying, but he instinctively felt that it was something important, so he silently memorized it, along with the professor's tone of voice.

For some reason, the disappointment in his heart seemed to dissipate with the wind.

In the light rain of early spring in February, the moist air carries the scent of earth and grass.

On the hillside opposite the valley, there was a flat clearing covered only in lush green grass, which looked somewhat out of place against the backdrop of the surrounding overgrown trees and shrubs. Passing pedestrians and travelers, preoccupied with getting out of the valley as quickly as possible, might not notice anything unusual, but once they did, they could no longer ignore the unusual clearing.

Melvin stretched out his wand toward the open space and gently tapped it, the warm and subtle magic melting into the drizzle.

A mountain mist rose up at some point and gradually enveloped the entire open space.

Ripples spread across the space as a gentle breeze suddenly rose from the grass, scattering the sparse rain and hazy mist. When the valley cleared, the breeze subsided, and the clearing returned to calm.

"Muggle banishment charm, illusion magic, all protected, peace guard, and room sealing charm..."

Melvin quietly reviewed the spells on the open ground, glanced at Skripal, and said, "They're more ordinary than I expected. I thought there would be a 'Loyalty' spell."

“Only weak family mansions need the Loyalty Charm to defend against attacks from other wizards, while Lestrange is the wizard who attacks others.” Scripps looked at the flat grass, took a deep breath of the damp air, and revealed a nostalgic and sad look. “These spells are only used to drive away Muggles.”

The Lestrange family originated from a French wizarding family, with noble magical blood flowing through their veins. Their glory lasted for thousands of years, but it declined twelve years ago.

The Ministry of Magic had suggested confiscating the mansion, but the two gentlemen and Bellatrix refused, preferring life imprisonment in Azkaban rather than using their family wealth to secure a reduced sentence.

“Don’t stand here in the rain, take me inside,” Melvin said.

Skripy looked up shakily at Dobby beside him. "I need to double-check the invitation." "Do you think anyone would lie to you?" Dobby muttered, looking down as he rummaged through the crumpled curtains, pulling out an elegantly bound invitation. "Not to mention Mr. Levent, even Malfoy..."

His expression froze; he felt this was badmouthing his former owner, and he reluctantly shut his mouth.

Skrych took the invitation and flipped through it with trembling hands.

It begins with "To the esteemed Professor Levent," and ends with "Narcissus Malfoy, sister of Bellatrix Lestrange."

The aged house-elf stared at the signature for a long time before handing the invitation back. He looked at the young professor, wanting to ask if he harbored any ulterior motives or was plotting to seize the Lestrange family's wealth, but ultimately couldn't bring himself to ask.

The family lineage has been severed, and the only remaining bloodline is imprisoned for life in Azkaban. Whatever malice they harbor is irrelevant. Furthermore, the young professor already knows the mansion's location; if he truly intends harm, he can easily break through the protective magic.

Skritch extended his old, slender fingers and pointed tremblingly at the empty space.

As if ink had fallen into water, or as if memories had fallen into a meditation basin, the space above the grass rippled slightly, revealing a vast manor.

The towering iron gate was covered in dark red rust, and the carved vine patterns were blurred. When the gate was opened, the old copper hinges, unable to bear the weight, made a teeth-grinding creak.

On both sides of the straight path leading to the garden, oak trees are lush and green hedges are rampant. Rose branches have invaded the main road. The fountain has dried up and there are stone sculptures of magical animals inside, which seem to be griffins and crested snakes, or ravens and bird snakes. They are covered with green plants and no longer show their former ferocity and majesty.

Further inside is the castle, with its rugged and sturdy exterior walls, asymmetrical towers and spires, decorated with cast iron railings and wrought-iron gargoyles, and windows inlaid with stained glass depicting the family history, clearly in the Victorian style.

Opening the oak door, a musty, stale smell wafts out.

What comes into view are the tapestries and portraits on the walls of the foyer, all of which are portraits of the Lestrange family's ancestors. The wizards who made the portraits were highly skilled, and the portraits still retain some magic. However, they have been neglected for many years, and the surface wax has turned yellow and aged. Some portraits have cracked and are covered with a layer of dust, and they do not react to the outside world.

The tapestry bears the Lestrange family crest, a raven.

Beside it is an ancestral precept outlined in Latin: "A crow will not peck at another crow's eye."

"Woo..."

Skrych's sudden sobs echoed through the castle, a torrent of heart-wrenching grief: "The crow's chicks are gone, only the cuckoo remains in the nest!"

"..."

Unfortunately, Melvin was unmoved, finding it all too noisy; this cuckoo was going to raid the crow's nest today.

"According to the information Peter gathered, the vault key is on the second floor."

Melvin examined the portrait as he entered the foyer. The layout of these castles was quite similar, and he soon found the stairs in a corner. He climbed the dusty marble stairs, occasionally hearing sounds from the shadows.

It could be a vixen, or a hermit bat; in any case, some insignificant magical creature.

Several rooms on the second floor: a study filled with the smell of musty parchment, an apothecary with potion bottles scattered around, the liquid inside dried into black residue, and a gloomy bedroom with faded silk curtains hanging on a four-poster bed, spider silk replacing the wool yarn... everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.

Melvin had no intention of rummaging through the books. No matter how long the Lestrange family's history was, could it be as long as Hogwarts'? And no matter how rich the collection of books here was, could it compare to the school library?

There's absolutely no need to waste time here.

Dobby, standing beside him, somehow produced an oil lamp that could actually be lit, and held it up to illuminate Melvin's path.
"Master, how many Galleons did you pay to exchange me for Malfoy? How much am I worth for lighting your lamp? When will I be free?"

“First of all, you can call me by my first name, Melvin Levent, or you can call me Professor, sir…” Melvin looked around for a display case or a safe-like cabinet as he spoke, “Dobby, you should know that not everything is like bread and potatoes in a store, with a fixed price. What I pay, and the services you provide, are priceless.”

Dobby's eyes widened: "Then how will I know when I've saved enough?"

Melvin stopped, looked down to meet those prominent elven eyes, and said with a smile in a soft voice, "You'll know when you've saved enough."

Although the young professor had a smile on his face, Dobby felt that the professor was very serious. He did not see himself as a slave, but as an independent and equal individual. Dobby was sure that there was a deeper meaning in the professor's words and actions, but he did not understand what these words meant.

"You'll know when you've saved enough, and when you know, you've saved enough..."

As the house-elf muttered to himself, Melvin had already reached the door of the room at the end of the corridor. He pushed the door with a little force, but it wouldn't open.

Upon closer inspection, a reverse-locking lock was found on the door.

Melvin was in high spirits. He had a feeling he had found the right place. He knocked on the door with his fingers, and the Transfiguration spell was applied to the door. The oak wood covered with tung oil immediately melted away, as if ice and snow were thawing, revealing the room inside and the things inside.

He saw a cabinet, a luxurious antique cabinet covered in dust, its ancient blackish-gray hue illuminated by an oil lamp, with crystal-carved doors, and the contents inside carefully preserved.

A cast-iron raven statue, the symbol of Lestrange.

A very old-looking tapestry, its colors faded, yet the gold and silver threads on it still shimmered. It was a sprawling family tree, originating from the Middle Ages, with three bloodlines arranged in an orderly fashion, all the way to the three Rodolphs.

Some names are accompanied by their birth and death dates, and among those aged in the tens or hundreds of years, one, Ecovacs V Lestrange, stands out—

Born in 1901, died in 1901.

It is important to know that wizards do not experience difficult childbirths, and their babies rarely suffer from congenital diseases. In times without war or turmoil, the death of wizard children is extremely rare.

Seeing Melvin staring at the name, Dobby seemed to sense his confusion and offered to speak: "I heard the lady... the former mistress mention this name. Back then, their house-elves were escorting him on a ship to America when they encountered a shipwreck. During the escape, the house-elves mixed him up with another child, and the truth wasn't discovered until 1927."

Melvin looked thoughtful, then turned to look at the tray beside him—

A golden key lay there quietly.

(End of this chapter)