Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 220 Seeking Help from the School
The ice cream truck not far away rang its bell, indicating a delayed service. The service and price didn't match, but thankfully the taste was quite good. Mr. Granger, carrying ice cream for his family of three, called out from afar:

"Hermione, come and have some ice cream! I also bought some crepes!"

Upon hearing the sound, both the girl and the witch turned around.

In the open space next to the ice cream truck, a middle-aged dentist smiled and looked over. He was tall and thin, slightly balding, and his gaze was fixed on the little witch. He held up the ice cream and crepe in his hand.

The freshly made pancakes are steaming hot, the ice cream cream glistens in the sunlight, and the pink strawberry jam is glistening and tempting.

Hermione saw the sweat on her father's forehead and quickly replied in a crisp voice, "Okay, I'll be right there."

"No need to rush, your mother is still picking out postcards," the middle-aged dentist nodded and smiled.

Hermione looked into the little girl's bright blue eyes and pursed her lips: "I'm going to find my mom and dad now. You should go find your parents too and ask them to accompany you to the magic show."

She gave a few worried words of advice, sighed, and turned to run towards the dentist, her messy curly hair swinging back and forth.

"Slow down, don't rush." ​​Mr. Granger reached out and handed over the ice cream, then pulled out a small wooden spoon. The clerk had just grabbed a spoon; there were five wooden spoons for the three ice creams, each with a cute strawberry pattern.

The little witch looked down at the ice cream, and after a few seconds, she seemed to make a decision. She took the ice cream box, grabbed a crepe, and ran back.

Hermione returned to the little girl and handed her the ice cream and pancakes, a bright smile on her face: "Here you go. They're not candy, but they're sweet too. This weather is perfect for ice cream."

The steaming ice cream and the sweet aroma of jam filled my nostrils, making my mouth water uncontrollably.

The thin girl stood frozen in place, looking up at the witch with her deep blue eyes full of confusion.

"Consider it a gift from me to you." Hermione handed him the ice cream box, hesitated for a moment, reached out and ruffled her messy hair, then turned and ran towards the dentist not far away.

"Dad, give me another spoon, I want to taste your chocolate."

"Didn't you used to love strawberry flavor the most? How could you bear to give it away to someone else?"

"I want to try something different today."

"Should I go back to queue up and buy another one?"

"No, it's too hot. Let's take a taxi back to the hotel as soon as possible."

Hermione tugged at the dentist's sleeve and walked back, without mentioning the girl's situation, because she herself didn't know.

The dentist shook his head and chuckled, letting the little witch pull him along. He knew how much his daughter loved strawberry flavor, and since both her parents were dentists, they rarely had the chance to enjoy sweets like this.

"Okay, let's have the buffet at the hotel tonight, and how about we order an ice cream too?"

"I want strawberry flavor this time!"

"Mm, strawberry flavor."

……

The father and daughter walked toward the hand-painted artist's stall. The dentist's wife also picked out her favorite postcards, paid for them, and took the mint-flavored ice cream. When she learned that her daughter had given hers to a stranger she had just met, she did not scold her, but smiled and shared the mint-flavored ice cream with her.

Once the family of three had disappeared around the street corner, the little girl holding the ice cream looked down at her dusty fingers and quickly adjusted her posture, worried about getting the ice cream dirty.

She carefully held the spoon, scooped out a small spoonful, put it in her mouth, and gently sipped it, her bright blue eyes sparkling.

"Mmm...so cold, and sweet."

Cheers erupted again from nearby, and more children went up to participate in the performance, pulling candy out of their hats.

The little girl snapped out of her daze, pursed her lips, and this time she no longer envied those people. She carried the ice cream box and moved away from the crowd, soon finding a secluded step to sit down.

The wooden spoon with the strawberry pattern kept shaking. Apart from the distant noise and the sound of the wind, there were occasional rustling sounds. The girl carefully scraped the cardboard box clean with the wooden spoon, and the dry skin on her lips was moistened by cream and jam.

A sweet aroma wafted out.

Before I could even enjoy my crepe, I heard footsteps in the distance, seemingly security personnel on patrol. Before they could get any closer, a gentle breeze suddenly swept up the steps, carrying a light mist that rose from the ground into the sky.

A lone cloud drifted in the clear sky, following behind a taxi.

Crepe crumbs drifted down from mid-air, attracting playful white doves to chase after them.

……

lunch time.

Melvin stood under the shade of a tree, holding a hot dog he had bought from a roadside stall. Not far away, a young snake was bidding a reluctant farewell to a sheepdog.

After all, the investigation had gotten him involved in a wizard conflict, and the severe fright was practically a work-related injury. After leaving the cemetery wasteland, he found a hot dog stand and emptied his wallet of francs to buy hot dogs to appease the sheepdog.

The puppy, which had been shivering in the grass, quickly regained its energy after eating and drinking its fill. It stuck out its tongue, wagged its tail, and huffed and puffed as it ran around the two of them.

You couldn't tell at all that she had been terrified just now.

After calming the temporarily requisitioned sheepdog, it was time to leave. The temporary partnership between Yulm and the sheepdog came to an end. The snake and the dog said goodbye reluctantly, barking to each other.

“On the bright side, that quiet girl is kind-hearted and won’t destroy Paris.” Melvin turned to look at Grevis beside him, who had been sighing for the past half hour.

“Yes, the Oblivious Girl won’t, but there’s still a group of cultists and dark wizards whose whereabouts are unknown.” Grevis looked dejected.

He suddenly believed the vague prophecy that whenever a descendant of Bariborn appeared in the magical world, a prominent wizarding family would perish.

Bartholomew weakened the Twelve Trees family centuries ago, and Mary Barryborn should have brought down the Grevis family decades later, but her parents stopped the process. Now, with the Second Salem and Barryborn, the gears of fate are set in motion once again.

If fortune tellers and prophets can see the future, then such a curse prophecy isn't so absurd, right? "Activating the portal key in mid-air during a hurricane, even if they manage to reach their destination, how many cultists might survive? They might not even land intact; their bodies would fall from the sky, even more gruesome than the dead we saw at the forensic center this morning," Melvin comforted.

“But the Second Salem and the Purifiers aren’t just this group. This is just one of the cultists who escaped from Mount Waco Gami. According to the intelligence the FBI gave me, they escaped in three waves…” Grevis sighed again.

Melvin frowned slightly and turned to look into his eyes: "You're not going to tell me there are two more Obscurus like that, are you?"

“Mount Carmel was a cult base where they built churches and adopted many orphans.”

"and then?"

"The three groups of cult members who escaped all had children with them."

Melvin gasped. The hot sauce at the French roadside stalls was imported from Mexico and was particularly pungent. Looking at Grevis's pale and dejected face, he analyzed methodically: "Fifty years ago, New York was not very big, so one Obscurus destroyed half the city. Paris is different now. It is much bigger. Even if there are two Obscurus, they can only destroy half of the city at most."

Grevis was not comforted and forced a bitter smile: "Don't joke around, Melvin, Paris is really in dire straits."

Melvin swallowed the last bite of his hot dog and wiped his mouth with the tissue provided by the store: "Then let's hurry back and inform the French Ministry of Magic. We're searching for cultists all over Paris and even all of France. We can't possibly keep up with the search even if we run ourselves ragged."

"But...they..."

Grevis hesitated, realizing that the French Ministry of Magic clearly wanted to smooth things over; their recent investigation had been very perfunctory, and the French wizards were simply looking to get through it as quickly as possible. If it weren't for Woolworth House obtaining permission from the International Wizarding Federation, they probably wouldn't have even formed an inspection team.

“Don’t overthink it,” Melvin chuckled softly. “If they don’t want you to investigate, how will you get that information?”

“You mean Mr. Bonnell!” Grevis exclaimed, his spirits lifting.

“I learned one thing from the British Ministry of Magic: not all officials sit on the same chair.” Melvin tossed the tissue back into the trash can, patted Mr. Grevis on the shoulder, and said, “Let’s go back to Furstenberg Square to file a report.”

……

Half an hour later, at the French Ministry of Magic.

Bonnell sat behind his desk, expressionless, but his tightly clenched fists betrayed his inner turmoil.

“Mr. Bonnell, try to look on the bright side. At least we found out about the Obscurus in advance, so the Ministry of Magic can make contingency plans.” Grevis sat next to Melvin and relayed the case details in broken French. “If unrest breaks out, we can respond immediately.”

"You mean, these monsters, capable of destroying cities, are hiding in downtown Paris, and there's more than one!" Bonnell asked coldly. "What evidence? What evidence?"

Mr. Grevis paused for a moment: "We saw it with our own eyes. If you don't believe me, you can check my memory!"

“Mr. Grevis, you’ve probably forgotten that the Mr. Levent sitting next to you is not only a professor at Hogwarts, but also the founder of the Magic Mirror Club.” Bonnell squinted at him. “Cutting memories, piecing together images… no wizard in the world is better at this than him.”

Melvin was oblivious to this, idly surveying the room.

At this moment, they were sitting in the drawing room of the Auror Bureau of the French Ministry of Magic, which resembled a medieval church. Tree-shaped chandeliers hung upside down from the dome, each leaf a small crystal chandelier, and the legendary stories of French wizards were depicted on the stained glass windows.

“False memories?” Mr. Grevis’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting Bonnell to have this attitude.

“There are millions of Muggles here, and tourists come from all over the world. This is no longer the Middle Ages. We cannot mobilize the entire Ministry of Magic to conduct an indiscriminate search of the entire city of Paris just because you have no evidence.”

"Is it that you can't or you don't want to!" Mr. Grevis glared angrily.

Bonnell avoided his scorching gaze, remained silent for a moment, and then said to himself, "You need to determine the exact location of the Second Salem, or find concrete evidence of the Obscurial's existence, before our director can... can have sufficient reason to activate the emergency plan."

"40 square miles, millions of people, how are you expect two wizards like us to find us?" Grevis laughed in exasperation. "Are you going to chant 'Give me directions' into your wands?"

"A directional spell? Although modern wizards use it for simple navigation, according to the books, skilled wizards can indeed use it to find targets in their minds. It is said that the witch Lisette Rapunt drifted all the way to England in this way."

Bonnell's eyes gleamed with a dim light. He seemed to have digested the information. His clenched fist quietly loosened, and his tone became calm: "Mr. Grevis, Auror investigations should be flexible and adaptable. Sometimes, thinking about a problem from a different angle can make the road to the truth much smoother."

"I don't have time to discuss Auror investigation methods with you right now!" Grevis waved his hand impatiently.

“In the capital city of this country, it is difficult to find a few cultists hiding, but if you just want to find a few young wizards, especially those who are not yet of school age, it is actually easier than you think.”

Bonnerton paused, then slowly uttered the suggestion he had just come up with: "Why not ask Beauxbatons for help?"

"Seek help from the professors at the magic school?"

Grevis paused, his eyes slightly bewildered.

“It’s not the professor, it’s the magic of these schools,” Bonnell explained. “Historically important magic schools like Hogwarts and Beauxbatons send out dozens or even hundreds of acceptance letters every year and have their own unique ways of finding out the exact location of aspiring wizards. You can ask this Hogwarts professor next to you.”

Grevis hesitated for a moment. He had graduated from Ilvermorny, a school founded by Irish wizards who had immigrated there. It was originally established by Iso Thale and her Muggle husband, James Stewart, to teach their adopted son. Later, it attracted more and more wizards to enroll, and it mainly operated on an enrollment system.

It wasn't until the last century that they began to cooperate with the Magical Congress to identify preschool wizards and send them acceptance letters.

After hearing Grevis's account, Melvin's eyes lit up as he looked at the Auror captain: "You mean the Book of Admission and the Pen of Acceptance?"

The Book of Admission and the Pen of Acceptance, two magical items, have remained in the tower since the four founders established the school, and like the Sorting Hat, they are part of the Hogwarts curriculum.

Whenever a young wizard displays magical talent on the British Isles, the Pen of Acceptance records their information in the Book of Admission, ensuring that acceptance letters are sent accurately to them. When Harry stayed with the Dursleys, the address was even pinpointed to the storage room under the stairs.

Logically speaking, Obscurus could be considered a preschool child who had shown magical talent. The moment the cultists brought them to Paris, Beauxbatons' magic would take notice of these children, record their information, and send them their acceptance letters when they turned 11.

If we can get Beauxbatons' help, we can quickly find out who the Obscurians are hiding in the city.

"How are we supposed to contact Beauxbatons School? Should we try our luck in the Pyrenees now?" Grevis quickly asked again. "Why would they lend us these legendary magical artifacts left over from the school's founding without permission from the Ministry of Magic?"

“I can’t give you permission to requisition Beauxbatons’ magical items, but I can write you a note and tell you to try your luck at the Education Bureau office on the fourth floor.”

Bonnell was speaking to Grevis, but his gaze was fixed on Melvin.

(End of this chapter)