Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 205 Partners
The first class after the holiday, in a classroom on the second floor near the stairwell.

This is Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The classroom is two stories high, and there is a semi-public secret passage that connects directly to Lockhart's classroom upstairs. Harry knows this passage because Lockhart loves to have him play those dark creatures. He always has him rehearse in advance to ensure that there won't be any accidents like the Cornish elves, and to help Lockhart find the performance style that best brings out his smile.

Harry hadn't been to this classroom for two weeks, and now he was rushing in with his schoolbag.

"It's all your fault! If you hadn't been so engrossed in watching Ravenclaw's Seeker, we wouldn't have missed the spiral staircase and been stuck for a full fifteen minutes!" Ron complained, panting heavily.

They sat in the third row from the middle, with Hermione in front of them. The diligent and early-rising Miss Know-It-All would never be late, so she arrived at the classroom early to save seats for them.

Harry and Ron actually preferred seats further back and closer to the window, so they could listen to the lecture more easily and avoid daydreaming or whispering. However, Professor Levent was temporarily assuming the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and considering Hermione's strong dislike of that professor, it was already quite good that they weren't seated in the front row.

After a two-week Easter break, the students around me were excited to return to the classroom.

Ernie, Hannah, Justin, and Susan, Hufflepuff's classmates, have been attending classes together for two years. They know each other well, have a lot to talk about, and don't stop chatting even a few minutes before the bell rings.

"Harry, how's your course selection form coming along?"

Almost everyone asked similar questions, and they were already looking for classmates who would be taking the elective courses next semester to learn from and reference for their homework.

Harry, with similar thoughts, grinned: "Protecting magical creatures, divination, and... well, you know, Professor Levent's Muggle research."

"I knew you guys would make this choice!"

Seamus immediately perked up, chuckling as he shared the information he'd gathered: Professor Trelawney was the easiest to deal with, while Professor Victor, the Divination and Arithmetic professor, was notoriously heavy on assignments, one subject equivalent to two or three... Harry laughed along, glancing at his classmates in the front row.

The situation seemed a bit strange. All the other students had filled out their course selection forms and were sharing their experiences and opinions, but Hermione was the only one who hadn't revealed anything. She was craning her neck to flip through her notes, ignoring the chatter and jokes, and focusing solely on her studies. Just yesterday, she had said that there were less than ten weeks left until the exams.

What kind of talk is that?

Harry sighed and poked the shoulder in front of him with his quill: "Hermione, Hermione, what classes did you choose?"

"As I said, I'm interested in all elective courses."

"But……"

“I’ve already submitted my course selection form, and Professor McGonagall said she’ll find a way.”

"..."

Harry scratched his head. What could he do? Run tutoring classes on the weekend?

The school bell rang, and Professor Levent walked into the classroom right on time, still as handsome as ever. He carried a gold cup with a badger-shaped engraving, summoned Professor Gaunt to teach the class, and sat on the platform, slacking off.

"Long time no see, my dear children..." A ghostly, ethereal figure floated in mid-air, diligently giving a lecture.

Harry felt a surge of hope that Professor Gaunt would change his mind during the holidays and skip the after-class discussion and Q&A sessions, or at least not have to constantly stand in front of him during Q&A sessions.

Harry looked up at the figure, listening to the lesson while eagerly anticipating it, and then the post-lesson discussion began.

"Ugh……"

"Stop sighing, Harry. The professor is here. Ask him these questions for me." Hermione turned to him and whispered, pointing to a few notes in her notebook.

"Ugh……"

"Any questions about today's lessons?" Professor Gaunt asked with a warm smile. It was a pointless question; whether he had any questions or not, he would linger there and chat with Harry in various ways.

“There are a few things I don’t understand.” Harry glanced at his classmates in the row in front of him, picked up his notebook, and asked questions one by one. “Professor, you just said that the Fairy Charm is not suitable for use in the forest…”

“A very meaningful question. I would say it is your exceptional talent and intelligence that made you notice this…”

Professor Gunter laughed and said, "The Fairy Charm is not an instant-kill spell. It works well against small creatures like Cornish elves, but it can also disturb other fairy creatures. In a forest where visibility is limited, it is not a wise choice."

Hermione and the others nearby remained silent. This kind of situation was nothing new to them, after all, the professor was a huge fan of Harry.

Harry, the person involved, hadn't gotten used to it yet and felt goosebumps all over his body, feeling very uncomfortable: "Professor, you really don't have to do this..."

“Oh, you don’t understand, Harry.” Professor Gaunt’s face still wore a kind smile. “In those past years, that man was a dark cloud hanging over the wizarding world. He wore the crown of dark magic. He was the most powerful dark wizard. You escaped from his wand twice and defeated him. You don’t understand what a noble achievement that is for those who study Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

"Uh..." Harry felt his face burning and dizzy. This was the first time an adult wizard had praised him so directly, especially to his face.

“I have a request, Harry,” Professor Gaunt looked at him kindly, “Could you tell me how you did it?”

“It wasn’t me, it was my mother,” Harry said softly.

"what?"

“My mother died to save me. She used a very advanced spell, but I don’t know the specifics. All I know is that…” Harry suddenly became a little downcast and didn’t go into too much detail, “Anyway, when Voldemort attacked me, this spell suddenly made him lose his powers.”

There were other students talking in the classroom, but the surrounding rows of desks quieted down. Hermione quietly looked up and saw that Professor Levent had raised his head at some point and was looking at them from a distance with an indescribable smile in his eyes.

That look reminded Hermione of the way zoo visitors looked at monkeys—a look that was both mocking and expectant.

Professor Gaunt, standing nearby, had a distorted expression on his face, seemingly struggling to control his emotions. After a long while, he managed to force out an awkward smile.

"So that's how it is. It's really...so touching."

……

"So that's it! So that's it!"

The illusory figure floated in mid-air, pacing back and forth as if walking on air. Riddle's face was twisted into a smile, and his laughter was maniacal, like that of a madman. "I understand, I understand everything!"

"His Mudblood mother died to save him; it was a very effective antidote. But in the end, there was nothing special about Potter. He was just an ordinary student, average in talent, dull-witted, lazy, and mediocre!"

Yulm glanced sideways at the illusory figure, hissing as he flicked his forked tongue.

Riddle has sacrificed a great deal these past few months. The former leader of the Death Eaters, the most powerful Dark Lord in history, has been posing as a fervent Harry fan, patiently answering questions and tirelessly boasting about his talent. He finally managed to extract clues about that night in Godric's Hollow, and, using his vast magical knowledge, immediately deduced the dispelling spell used by Mrs. Potter. It happened a little earlier than expected, but it's alright; it's almost the end of April, almost May, and there aren't many Defense Against the Dark Arts classes left.

"Do you really think so?"

Melvin buried himself in grading holiday assignments, not even looking up.

“I used to have similar doubts to yours, Melvin, because there are some things about Potter that are very similar to me. We are both mixed blood, both orphans, raised by Muggles, and you even told me that he speaks Parsley, and we even look somewhat alike. It’s a very strange connection.”

Riddle spoke slowly, then his tone turned cold and sharp, “But in the end, he only escaped from me by luck. His past, my future… it was all an accident.”

"and then?"

Melvin set aside the parchment he had finished reviewing and began reading the next paper. "What are you going to do? Duel him and test your strength? You're just a phantom right now, you don't even have a wand. Are you going to teach him a lesson? Release the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets? We tried that with the diary last year, but Dumbledore found out, and it ended badly."

Riddle glanced at Melvin and Jourm, his eyes filled with a gloomy and complex expression, the meaning of which was unclear.

"What are you looking at me doing?"

Melvin dipped the quill in ink, looked up and met his gaze, and sighed dramatically, "You still don't believe me? I've told you before, the diary and I are partners, friends. I do things for it in exchange for knowledge and wealth. Is all this black magic of mine just a lie?"

He showcased the stage designer's superb acting skills, delivering sincere and moving lines: "Back then, the diary was eager for revenge before it could uncover the truth, so it entrusted me to give the diary to a student. He manipulated the student to open the Chamber of Secrets, causing some commotion. But this is Hogwarts. The diary underestimated Dumbledore, and the incident was quickly quelled. The diary itself was also exposed and was taken away by Dumbledore for research."

“You didn’t say that when we first met,” Riddle said coldly. “You said the diary was safe!”

"Dumbledore is just researching. As long as he doesn't discover anything about Horcruxes, the diary is safe."

“Why aren’t you the one who opens the secret room?” Riddle asked in a deep voice.

"Because I can't be exposed!"

Melvin retorted just as confidently, "I'm the only one who can operate outside and is willing to help you. Think about it, so many years have passed since Godric's affair, have your Death Eaters ever contacted you? Are they still willing to pledge allegiance to you?"

Riddle was speechless for a moment.

“Only I, a foreign professor, am not a Death Eater, and my identity is clean so that no one will suspect me. I still remember you, the Dark Lord.” Melvin said righteously, “The diary trusted me, so it told me about your existence, and it turns out that I am also worthy of trust.”

Riddle looked into his eyes, the dark pupils like the abyss of a black lake. He still couldn't fully trust the professor; there were too many unresolved questions. When he first summoned the phantom, there was a hint of hostility and contempt in his eyes.

Riddle sometimes felt that Levent's story was all false, that he was actually Dumbledore's mole, but his profound mastery of dark magic was undeniable, and knowing Dumbledore as he did, he would never trust such a wizard.

Moreover, Levent kept his promise and allowed himself to get close to Potter to find out the truth.

"I think we should keep a low profile and lie low for now."

Melvin sincerely advised, "Dumbledore himself is in charge of Hogwarts. His influence extends throughout the wizarding world, and even the Ministry of Magic has his eyes and ears. Whether it is power or dueling strength, we are no match for him. The most important thing now is to find your main soul and prepare for resurrection. Only the true Dark Lord can deal with him."

Riddle's eyes flashed coldly: "Given enough magic, I too can return from the Golden Cup."

"Is the you in the Golden Cup stronger than the you in the future?" Melvin asked, seemingly genuinely concerned for him. "Even if you regain your physical body, how many years will it take you to catch up with Dumbledore? Ten years? Twenty years? The easiest way is to find the real Dark Lord and let him return in his most powerful form."

"What's your plan?"

Seeing that the phantom seemed interested, Melvin continued to persuade him: "The world is so big, it's almost impossible for us to find a ghost on our own, so we need help, we need the help of the old Death Eaters."

"..."

“I know you don’t want to be exposed to them, and you don’t want them to discover the secret of the Horcruxes, so I will act as the middleman. You tell me their secrets and weaknesses, and I will convey your orders.”

Melvin was certain that he did not want to appear in front of the Death Eaters in person; Voldemort needed his servants to fear him and could not appear in the form of a weak ghost.

Riddle's eyes flickered, and he quickly made a decision: "I know the Malfoy family's smuggling channels."

"Malfoy is shrewd but cowardly, not the right person."

"Gall and Crabbe."

"A troll's body, a troll's head, foolish and reckless, unsuitable."

"It sounds like you already have a goal."

What do you think of Nott?

"The Nott family was involved in poaching horned ibex and had a secret farm in Scotland that kept ibex to make veritable vomit..."

Melvin pulled a blank parchment from the table and wrote down these secrets one by one.

The Nott family primarily deals in potions. For legitimate potions, they source ingredients from the market; for illegitimate ones, they have to find their own methods—poaching, smuggling, and breeding—many of which involve protected animals. According to the regulations set by Mr. Scamander, if strictly enforced, the maximum fines would be enough to bankrupt the Nott family.

Riddle's phantom floated in the air, watching his movements expressionlessly.

Even now, he still doesn't believe the young wizard; he doesn't believe his claims, or at least not entirely.

During this time, Melvin used the Golden Cup to make potions and also tried to absorb magic, but he gained almost nothing. That kind of magic was different from that of ordinary wizards; it was more like some kind of magical creature that the Golden Cup could transform, but he was completely unable to absorb and utilize it.

“Actually, I’ve always had a question.” Melvin was in a very good mood.

"explain."

"Your soul fragments can return from the Horcruxes, and your main soul can also return. If you are all resurrected at the same time, then who is the real Voldemort?"

"..."

Riddle stood frozen in mid-air.

(End of this chapter)