Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 222 Rozier in Paris
Late at night, in the quiet of the night, at Furstenberg Square.

All the staff had already left for the night, and no wizards were conducting business at night. The underground Ministry of Magic was quiet again. The fires were extinguished, the lights were dim, and Melvin and the others sat around a round table with several thick stacks of envelopes on it, all with very uniform headings.

The cover page contains the same content: "Headmaster Orim Maxime (Recipient of the Order of Valor, Chief Wizard of the French Wizarding Association, French Representative of the International Confederation of Wizards)"

Aside from the different names and titles, the contents were identical: "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of required books and supplies. The term begins on September 1st, and we await your reply by owl on July 31st..."

Christine's "immediately" took longer than expected, but no one showed any impatience. The stack of letters on the table was the result of her efforts. Without any evidence or approval from the Ministry of Magic, she had persuaded Ms. Maxim all by herself to obtain the student information for the next few years.

This Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who is about to be officially appointed to teach the course, is very reliable.

"With Ms. Maxim's consent, I participated in this operation on behalf of Beauxbatons. After the incident, the Ministry of Magic must provide a clear explanation."

A beautiful witch sat to the side of the round table, her tone calm and her expression serene, yet her words carried an air of authority.

“That’s to be expected.” Mr. Bonnell of the Auror Bureau nodded, having no objection.

“Ms. Maxim asked me to tell the Ministry of Magic that she takes this matter very seriously and asked me to write and print these letters in advance, even at the cost of leaking students’ address information. It’s not for any other reason than to prevent a repeat of the old ways of the Vigilantes and to prevent students who should be attending Beauxbatons from being absent. Do you understand?” Christine emphasized again.

These words startled Bonnell for a moment. He lowered his head and silently looked at the names on the letters, the scene of receiving his acceptance letter thirty years ago flashing before his eyes.

He still remembers the feeling when he received the letter, as if a whole new world had opened up before him, and the stories in his fairy tales had come true. Every time he sees an envelope like this, he thinks of his days at Beauxbatons and recalls that heartfelt joy.

Over the years, factional struggles within the Ministry of Magic have intensified, and relationships with ancient wizarding families have become increasingly complex. Only Beauxbatons remains the same Beauxbatons, untouched by the vortex of power and fame, simply thinking of the young wizards.

Upon hearing Christine's account, Grevis and Bonnell were both moved, while the recently graduated intern became uneasy, and the round table fell silent.

Melvin, the only one who didn't understand French, sat in his seat and sized up Christine. He noticed that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor still retained some of the professional habits of an Auror. She was efficient and decisive, but her expression was slightly cold.

Melvin suddenly wanted to laugh; Beauxbatons' students probably thought he was a stern professor.

Christine pretended not to notice his smile, kept her eyes straight ahead, and handed a large portion of the envelope on the table to Bonnell: "No matter what changes the Ministry of Magic is undergoing, it should fulfill its duties and protect the wizarding residents of France."

“I will try my best to mobilize the Auror Bureau’s manpower…” Bonnell looked at the silent intern beside him, “and other unemployed wizards, and investigate these students within two days.”

He paused briefly, then looked at the other envelope: "The rest?"

"The remaining ones will be taken over by the Rozier family," Christine said calmly.

"The Auror Bureau will remember Rozier's help."

Bonnell's eyes flashed with surprise, but he didn't say anything. He picked up the envelope, got up, and left in a hurry, taking the bewildered intern with him.

Christine turned to the other Auror: "Mr. Grevis, the factional struggles within the French Ministry of Magic are very complex. Mr. Bonnell may face obstacles when deploying his forces. I hope you can work with Mr. Bonnell and provide support from the sidelines in the capacity of the International Confederation of Wizards and the Magical Congress of the United States."

"Ah, oh, okay."

Grevis was still a little dazed when the witch's arrival suddenly made the previously slow-moving case seem clear. Bonnell stopped making excuses and acted methodically.

Are all the professors at magic schools this outstanding these days?
He stared at the spectacled owl's dark circles as he chased after him, calculating that he would probably be staying up all night again, and asked Bonnell to get him a few bottles of Buffet's Mind-Boosting Potion, the kind that was exclusively supplied by the Ministry of Magic.

Only the two of them remained in the room. Melvin couldn't help but smile and say, "Long time no see."

Is now the time to catch up?

Looking at the smile in the young professor's eyes, Christine pursed her lips and recounted the contents of the brief meeting, from Ms. Maxim's instructions to Bonnell and Grevis's investigation plan, and her final promise that the Rozier family would provide assistance.

Melvin listened to her story and asked curiously, "Why would a cunning bureaucratic wizard like Bonnell be willing to follow your arrangements?"

“It wasn’t my arrangement, it was Ms. Maxim of Beauxbatons’ arrangement… and the Rozier family’s wishes.”

Christine quickly glossed over these unpleasant details, then looked up into his dark eyes. "Just like I had Mr. Grevis support Mr. Bonnell earlier, Professor Levent, I also need your help."

"Is this related to me?"

Melvin was stunned for a moment.

“I need you to come with me to my home, Rozier’s mansion.”

……

The night is getting darker.

The stars and moon in the sky are too far away, their bright light cannot compare to the lights on both sides of the Seine. The neon lights along the banks are reflected in the water, and when they flow, they look like a shimmering galaxy.

In the hotel apartment suite.

The service and amenities were worth the high price. The suite Mr. Granger booked had several bedrooms, so it wasn't crowded even with an extra girl. In the Grangers' bedroom, the main light was off, and only a bedside nightlight provided illumination so the couple could talk in the dark.

Lying on the soft bed, the fatigue accumulated from a whole day of shopping surged from my bones, making me not want to move a single finger.

Mr. Granger asked weakly, "How is the child?"

Mrs. Granger had a face mask on and her lips barely moved as she spoke: "I asked the front desk for a set of pajamas, washed up, changed out of that short-sleeved shirt, and after drying my hair, I looked like a normal child."

Mr. Granger slumped onto the pillow: "That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking about her background, whose child is she?"

"I've already asked..."

Mrs. Granger sighed: "This child is too young, has never been to school, and even her language skills are not fully developed. She doesn't know anything when asked, only her own name, and she calls the relatives she used to raise her 'master.' She doesn't remember where she used to live, or how she came to Paris. She met Hermione on the street and followed her all the way here."

"She followed us?" Mr. Granger sat up in shock, ignoring the soreness in his arms and legs. "It's several miles away, a taxi ride would take an hour. How did she follow us?"

"Someone must have delivered it."

Mrs. Granger glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, feeling helpless at her husband's foolishness. "The child's brain is not fully developed yet, and coupled with long-term malnutrition, his consciousness is usually blurred, and his short-term memory is not clear. He thought that someone else sent him here was himself."

Neither of them suspected the child of having ulterior motives or being a malicious person. The six or seven-year-old child was thin and frail, and could not speak clearly. He was quiet most of the time. After washing up, he sat on the sofa with a restrained, awkward, and uneasy expression on his face.

The room service ordered a late-night snack, and the child couldn't take his eyes off the desserts and snacks. His bright blue eyes blinked rapidly, like an abandoned young animal. What kind of bad child could such a child be?

"It was delivered..."

Mr. Granger frowned, his slightly balding head gleaming. "He must have seen Hermione sharing ice cream with her during the day, thought we were well-off and the child was kind, so he sent her to us hoping we would adopt her."

Mrs. Granger thought the same thing and couldn't help but complain, "How could there be such relatives! Even if they were to be abandoned, they shouldn't do it like this. What if they were kidnapped by criminals, or captured and used for human experiments... I'll go to the police tomorrow morning and make sure they are punished!"

"The American girl was deliberately sent to France to be abandoned. Could they be illegal immigrants? Even if we report it to the police, will it be fruitless?"

Mrs. Granger sighed, "What can we do?"

“Let’s adopt her then. Consider it another daughter. When we were in college, you said you wanted two children.” Mr. Granger turned over, put his arm around his wife’s waist, and became sleepy, his words becoming somewhat slurred. “The clinic has been too busy since Hermione was born, and it’s too dangerous for an older mother to give birth now. Adopting a child is a good idea.”

"Shouldn't adoption require identification documents?"

“It can be processed once we return to London. I can solve the dental problems for those officials, and they won’t mind helping us with our little troubles.”

"You need proof of identity to buy a plane ticket back to London!"

"..."

The exhausted dentist had fallen into a deep sleep, leaving his wife alone to worry. This made Mrs. Granger somewhat indignant. As she took off her face mask and turned off the light, her movements were a little too forceful, and she punched the guy twice.

……

In the bedroom next to the suite, the two girls were still awake.

Hermione moved from a single bedroom to a double bedroom so she could take care of the girl who was about to become her sister. She lay on the bed in the hotel pajamas, her head slightly turned on the pillow as she looked at the little girl in the next bed.

After washing up and changing her clothes, the little girl was fair-skinned and thin, and her bright blue eyes seemed to glow in the night.

"Hermione?"

"Ah."

Hermione.

"Ok?"

"It's nothing, I just wanted to call your name."

Hermione's heart softened, and she replied softly, "Don't worry, little Bussy, we won't abandon you. We'll always be here for you."

"You must raise Bastad," the little girl murmured slowly, her voice filled with longing.

Hermione's fair brows furrowed slightly.

Why are we still using the term "breeding"?

Sigh, a seven-year-old child who can't speak normally, she probably has never received a formal education, neither at home nor at school.

Thinking of this, Hermione sat up and looked at her seriously: "Little Bussy, don't worry, you're a little slow now, but it's okay, you can go to school when you go back to London."

“Go to school…” the little girl repeated.

“I can get you a new identity when we get back to London. I have a way to bring you back to London.” Hermione had already thought of it while she was lying down. “When we board the plane or take the ferry back, I can use Polyjuice Potion to transform you into my likeness, or I can use the Unseen Stretching Charm to hide you, or even Transfiguration… Although I don’t know how to do these things yet, I can buy them directly at the wizarding market here.”

"..."

The little girl blinked, seemingly not understanding.

An evening breeze blew in from the direction of the Seine, peeking through the cracks in the glass window and lifting a corner of the curtains. Outside, the city was brightly lit, and the starry sky was dim. The noise was shut out, and this midsummer night seemed to be deeply etched into their minds.

Hermione pursed her lips and whispered, "I want to give you a new name, is that okay?"

"what name?"

“From this day forward, you are no longer Bastad, but Bastian.”

"Bastian?" The little girl tilted her head.

"It's a French name that means 'noble person, respected person'..."

Hermione didn't mention the meaning of the name again, still feeling angry when she thought about it. How could anyone give a child such a name, even if the child wasn't their own?
“Bastian!” The little girl’s bright blue eyes shone.

A strange emotion flowed through her heart, like cool ice cream melting on her tongue, sweet and comforting, and the steak and macarons filling her stomach, warm and cozy, making her feel exceptionally at ease.

……

At 11 p.m., the luxurious divine carriage traveled smoothly along the quiet tree-lined road. The night was as dark as the tide. Melvin looked out the window and saw the riverside manor appearing in the darkness at the end of the road.

This is the old residence of the Rozier family. In Paris, where land is incredibly valuable, there is only one such mansion for miles around. The heavy bronze metal door opened quietly, and the divine horse strode in and stopped in front of the low building on the right side of the road.

The entire manor was pitch black just moments before, but the moment the carriage stopped, lights suddenly lit up everywhere in the castle. Fairies danced in the streetlights along the road, stretching towards the distant entrance hall. The carriage door opened, and a house-elf in a white uniform stood in front.

"Welcome home, Miss Rozier." The house-elf's bowing motion seemed to have been practiced a thousand times, even the arc of the bow was meticulously calculated.

"..."

Melvin glanced at the house-elves, then at the lampposts lining the road, and at the fountain in the distant garden, where the water was glowing. He had visited many wizarding families' estates—the Nott family, the Grevis family, the Lestrange family—but none could compare to the Rozier family mansion before him.

Christine glanced at his movements and pursed her lips.

(End of this chapter)