Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 221 Meeting again
On the fourth basement level of Wirstenbergplatz, the light from the crystal chandeliers gradually turns to a crystalline blue, extending from the corridors into the offices. The cool-toned decor creates a tranquil and serene atmosphere.

Compared to the other floors of the Ministry of Magic, this place was indeed much quieter. The staff and wizards handling business were completely incomprehensible, and the entire rotunda was eerily quiet, with only the occasional sound of parchment notes flying by.

The fireplace, which connects to the Pyrenees Mountains, is located opposite the elevator and has been unused for a long time, covered with a layer of ash.

This is a dedicated passageway between the French Ministry of Magic and Beauxbatons. It was originally built to be used only for emergency matters, but within a few decades it became a passageway exclusively for students. Beauxbatons doesn't have a dedicated train like Hogwarts, so students often use the Ministry of Magic's fireplace to get to school before the start of the semester.

However, it is summer vacation now, the magic school has long been closed, and the staff of the education bureau office are also on vacation, leaving only a recent graduate intern on duty.

The footsteps grew closer, and two wizards walked in, one in front of the other. The one in front walked hurriedly but stopped frequently, seemingly unfamiliar with the structure of the Ministry of Magic. Occasionally, he would stop to look at the signs on the wall. The wizard behind was much more relaxed, following behind the former at a leisurely pace.

The person stopped in front of the door, checked the door number, and then knocked.

"I'm sorry, it's summer vacation now, and the Education Bureau can't process your business. Please come back in mid-August."

The intern wizard spoke in a muffled voice, his tone slightly restrained. He had just graduated and was assigned this kind of job. No one had taught him how to handle the business, so he could only apologize and make excuses.

Outside the office door, Mr. Grevis glanced down at the approval slip in his hand, which bore the seal of the Auror Bureau. Not long ago, Bonnell had confidently assured them that he still possessed this authority.

“We were assigned by Mr. Bonnell; we have an important case,” Grevis raised his voice.

"Mr. Bonnell of the Auror Bureau?"

The office door opened, revealing a young, recently graduated wizard with a somewhat immature face. He stood behind the door, dressed in a pure black Ministry of Magic uniform robe, looking rather reserved after the door opened.

Grevis didn't even ask his name. He pushed open the door, handed him the approval slip, and said hurriedly, "We need to contact Beauxbatons as soon as possible. It's very urgent. What should we do?"

The intern took the approval slip, glanced at it, and asked blankly, "An urgent case... why not just send someone to the Pyrenees?"

Grevis cursed Bonell in his heart, but remained outwardly calm, waving his hand: "That's none of your business, just contact them as soon as possible."

The intern was indeed an intern; he was quickly dealt with: "I can light the fireplace immediately, but because of Beauxbatons' security measures, I can't send you over there. I can only report that I can hear your heads and voices in the fire over there."

Grevis asked seriously, "When can we contact them?"

"This...I don't know either."

The intern explained in a low voice, "Only the administrator and a few teaching assistants are left at Beauxbatons. Perhaps Madam Maxim is there too, but the fireplace that connects to the Ministry of Magic is in the tower on the west side of the castle. Few people go there normally. We can only hope that the house-elves will see it when they are cleaning."

"Let's try our luck and connect the fireplace quickly!"

The three approached the fireplace in the rotunda, and the intern took firewood from a nearby cabinet and lit the fire.

"This is the Ministry of Magic. Contact Beauxbatons for an urgent case..."

Is anyone there? Is anyone there?

Melvin took off his coat, found a chair, and sat down, looking around. The dimly lit room suddenly brightened, and the crystal chandelier and stained glass sparkled in the firelight. Although it was the height of summer, the Ministry of Magic was located underground, where the temperature was lower, so being near the fire wasn't uncomfortably hot.

Grevis's shouts echoed in the rotunda, and the once quiet school board suddenly became lively. The intern smiled, seemingly pleased to have someone keep him company on duty.

The shouting continued for ten minutes before an echo finally came from inside the fireplace:
"This is Beauxbatons..."

Melvin suddenly heard a familiar voice, turned his gaze back to the fire, and exclaimed in surprise, "Christine?"

The young witch's head stood upright in the flames, her long, dark brown hair casually tied up with a few strands falling on either side of her face. Her bright, light blue eyes had a cool gaze, as if she were staring into the distance. Her thick eyebrows were clearly defined, and her fair skin had a few natural freckles.

"Professor Levent?" The witch's eyes lit up with surprise, equally astonished to see this old friend at the French Ministry of Magic.

"Why did you go back to Beauxbatons to work as a teaching assistant?"

"After meeting you in Romania last time, I suddenly felt that going back to teaching at the university wouldn't be so bad."

"Cristine said softly, her full lips curving slightly upward as she looked at the young professor's surprised expression, adding a touch of gentleness to her cool demeanor," Christine said.

"When did this happen? What subject was it?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, passed Ms. Maxim's interview during the Christmas break, has been a teaching assistant for half a year, and will officially teach next semester."

“Hmm, that fits your professional experience perfectly, and Beauxbatons’ Defense Against the Dark Arts class doesn’t have any weird curses…” Melvin wanted to exchange more on teaching experience, but before he could speak, an impatient Grevis squeezed in front of the fireplace.

"You can catch up later!"

Grevis grumbled irritably, then launched into a long-winded account of the case, from the fighting in Texas to the battle at Père Lachaise Cemetery, from the Purifiers to the Obscurus. He said there were now three Obscurus lurking in the city of Paris, and the entire city was in grave danger. He mentioned the inaction of the high-ranking officials of the French Ministry of Magic, the Auror Bureau's procrastination, and Bonnell's vague and evasive answers.

"...Go and inform Ms. Maxim immediately. We need Beauxbatons' help to find those young wizards who have become Obscurials as soon as possible."

Grevis let out a long sigh; it had been a long time since he had spoken so freely.

The intern was completely stunned after hearing the whole story, staring wide-eyed and frozen in place. Christine turned to Melvin beside her and asked, "Is what he said true?"

Melvin nodded: "It's true."

"I'll go find Ms. Maxim right away!"

After saying this, Christine immediately disappeared into the flames.

……

As night falls, the hotel restaurant on the top floor lights up, featuring both modern incandescent bulbs and vintage crystal chandeliers, with beautiful candlelight on each table. The lights are dazzling, and through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, one can overlook the scenery on both sides of the Seine.

This is the dinner service at an expensive hotel. The kitchen is semi-open, and the French chef, who has been featured on magazine covers, shows off his culinary skills without reservation. Hot oil is ignited in the pan, and flames leap up, causing the female guests to exclaim in surprise.

Tall, slender waiters dressed in black formal attire, with white handkerchiefs in their shirt pockets, pushed carts laden with dishes and champagne through the aisles.

"By Merlin, my stomach is completely full." Hermione rested her chin on her hands on the snow-white tablecloth, carefully burping as she spoke, but her praise was sincere: "The strawberry ice cream made by the chef here is absolutely delicious."

"I think the ice cream from the ice cream truck during the day is more delicious."

Mr. Granger held a silver knife and fork, slowly putting the foie gras into his mouth, his slightly balding forehead reflecting light. "Although the ice cream here is made with better craftsmanship and more precious ingredients, ice cream is something you should do when it's hottest at noon, when you're walking around and sweating, stand in front of the ice cream truck for ten minutes, and then scoop out a full spoonful."

The usually composed dentist wore an expression of bliss, seemingly savoring the foie gras or reminiscing about the ice cream he'd had earlier in the day, which amused his wife and daughter. Hermione suddenly felt a lump in her stomach, took a piece of foie gras from her father, and then covered her mouth with a small burp.

Mrs. Granger found it amusing, reached out and smoothed her messy hair, tying it into a small braid at the back of her head, and flicked her forehead: "Don't you know how much you can eat? We're going to the Louvre tomorrow, what if you overeat?"

Hermione hummed twice and acted coquettishly towards her mother. When she was feeling dizzy from being so full, she caught a glimpse of a girl in a short-sleeved shirt standing at the entrance of the restaurant. The girl had messy, wispy hair and a thin, frail appearance. She was looking at the semi-open kitchen, and there was an indescribable glint in her deep blue eyes.

"Mom, can I get a steak to go?" Hermione asked in a low voice.

Mrs. Granger was somewhat surprised: "Are you keeping it for a late-night snack? You can also order room service at night."

Hermione shook her head: "I saw that girl from earlier today, and I wanted to bring her some food."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were taken aback. Following her gaze, they saw the children from afar during the day and thought they were children from an orphanage. They were wearing ill-fitting clothes, had their hair cut for convenience, and were as thin as stray young animals.

This is Mr. Granger's impression of the girl.

However, the child I saw at the hotel must be a tourist's child. Families who stay at this hotel would not raise their children like this, and not giving them dinner is considered abuse.

“Let’s have another loaf of bread.” Mrs. Granger stroked her daughter’s hair. “We need to find out her name and whose child she is. If she’s really being abused, we’ll call the police immediately.”

"Hmm." Hermione nodded slightly.

The buffet was originally served using hotel vouchers, and taking it out required an extra charge. However, this amount was nothing to the dentist. He brought a well-done steak, worried that the child's stomach might not be able to handle too much oily food, along with truffle bread, the crust of which was baked until crispy and crumbly.

Hermione ordered a few extra macarons, which were packed in a kraft paper box with the hotel's logo, and they looked expensive.

……

As I walked out of the restaurant carrying the takeout box, the girl outside was nowhere to be seen.

"..."

Hermione tried to call out to the girl, but when she opened her mouth, she realized she didn't know the girl's name.

She had no choice but to carry the takeout box and slowly search along the corridor. This floor was all restaurants, and only this one was open tonight; the other rooms were locked. The girl couldn't have hidden anywhere.

After circling around for a while, Hermione still couldn't find the little girl, and she even suspected that she had gone downstairs and left.

Since they couldn't find anyone using Muggle methods, they had to resort to wizarding methods. Hermione switched the packing box to her left hand, took out her wand, placed it in her right palm, and whispered:
Give me directions

Orientation spells are used to indicate direction and can also be used to find people over short distances. As long as the person is not wearing any protective spells, shielding spells, or confusion spells, finding an ordinary Muggle girl is quite simple.

The magic wand made of grapevine wood turned slowly, but did not point in any direction for a long time.

Hermione looked down at the wand in her palm, tilted her head, and a hint of doubt flashed in her eyes: "Could it be that I ate too much and the ending of the spell was too high?"

Before she could chant the incantation again, a faint voice came from behind her: "What are you doing?"

Hermione paused for a moment, then realized the voice belonged to the girl from earlier that day. She quickly put away her wand, turned around, and hurriedly handed the takeout box to the girl.

"I came to find you. I didn't expect you to be staying at this hotel too. I saw you outside the restaurant just now. Haven't you had dinner yet? This is what I brought for you."

The little girl stared at the hotel logo on the takeout box, hesitated for a long time, and did not reach out.

"It's still hot, eat it quickly, the oil will give you diarrhea if it gets cold." Hermione shoved it into her hand and tentatively asked, "Are you eating it here by yourself, or taking it back to eat with your family?"

The little girl gripped the takeout box tightly: "I'll eat here!"

Two girls sat on the steps of the fire escape. One rested her face in her hands and tilted her head slightly, while the other held a takeout box and poked at the steak, which had been cut into small pieces, with the hotel's complimentary fork. Her cheeks bulged as she chewed.

She must have been hungry for a long time.

Hermione pursed her lips and asked in a low voice, "Can you tell me your name?"

"Bastad." The little girl buried her head in her rice.

How could any parent name their child like that?!

Hermione gritted her teeth in anger, confirming her suspicions once again: the little girl was definitely not raised by her biological parents. Like Harry, she was probably living with relatives, living in poor conditions with bad food and clothing, and her bedroom was just a small room under the stairs.

At least the Dursleys fed Harry, gave him a haircut, and fitted him with glasses; the girl's relatives were downright abusive.

You must call the police!

Those heartless guys must be sued!
Hermione looked at the girl's fine, soft hair and paused. "Buzz... little Bussy, would you like to leave the people who raised you? We can help you live a normal girl's life."

"What is a normal girl's life?" The little girl looked at her blankly, oil smeared on her lips.

"You'll have your own bedroom, plenty to eat every day, clothes that fit you every season, and occasional desserts and sweets," Hermione patiently described life after being adopted by an orphanage or a kind family.

"Are you going to get whipped?"

"What?!" Hermione was furious. "They hit you, and with a whip!"

The little girl shrank back, seemingly frightened by the raging anger in her eyes, and stopped eating.

Hermione's tone softened as she gently stroked her soft hair: "No, no one will ever hit or scold you again. I promise. If we can't find a good orphanage or a kind person to adopt you, we can let you live in our home."

"Do you want to raise a Bastad?"

"Raise?" Hermione frowned, thinking that the child had not received a proper education and had not learned the language well. "Anyway, you can come and live with us. You will have your own room and clothes, eat the same food as us, go to school when you reach school age, and play together during the holidays."

She asked gently, "Are you willing?"

The little girl took a bite of the macaron, her eyes squinting with sweetness. She nodded vigorously: "I do. You're better than my previous owner."

(End of this chapter)