Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 231 The Silent One, Pikani
The wrought iron gate, twisted into the shape of flowering branches, opened, and exquisite fairies fluttered on both sides of the road. Melvin felt that this was not a banquet, but a grand ceremony, even more magnificent than the awarding of medals by the Order of Merlin.

This is the old Rozier house on the banks of the Seine in the suburbs of Paris. It is still mysterious and majestic. Bright and gorgeous lights shine through every window. Neatly dressed house elves lead the way, bringing Melvin to the main hall, the place where important guests are entertained.

The deep red velvet carpet, the Rozier family crest hanging on the walls, and the various candlesticks decorated primarily with gold and embellished with sapphires and emeralds all showcased the extravagance of this old-school wizarding family.

The French Ministry of Magic was established relatively late, and there was no organization similar to a wizarding council before. Various wizarding families maintained order with Beauxbatons, but did not formulate overly rigid laws and rules. After the enactment of the secrecy law, its implementation was not so rigid. Although internal power struggles were frequent, there were no serious violent upheavals, and no war was started by the Dark Lord.

The last turmoil was caused by Grindelwald, but the situation was kept under control and barely caused any significant disturbance. The stable and relaxed environment allowed the wizarding family to accumulate considerable wealth.

The dining room was very spacious, with candlestick stands positioned along the walls on either side of the long dining table, their shadows concealing house-elves ready to serve. Mrs. Rosier sat at the head of the table, dressed in a dignified and elegant gown, the curve of her lips seemingly carefully crafted.

This banquet was more grand than the last one, with an even longer long table and a more abundant selection of dishes.

"Professor Levent, congratulations on receiving the Medal of Valor."

Mrs. Rozier smiled and raised her glass in a toast. The wine in her glass swirled, and the plate was spotless. She hadn't eaten much at all.

“It’s nothing. The Ministry of Magic’s investiture ceremony is in November, and Hogwarts doesn’t have holidays, so I probably won’t be able to attend.” Melvin’s voice echoed in the dining room, causing the candlelight to flicker slightly.

Christine and Mr. Rozier exchanged a glance, one shrugged and the other sighed, and the atmosphere at the table seemed to return to that night, when the two hosts were chatting and exchanging pleasantries with the guests, and they were the supporting characters in the background.

As a member of the host family, Christine was also forced to change into an elegant green satin dress and a thin chiffon shawl adorned with lace. The candlelight shone on her, making her look like a girl in an oil painting with a light layer of warm color.

Mrs. Rozier took a sip of her wine: "The Rozier family has also benefited from this arrest operation. If Professor Levent is willing, we can apply to hold the award ceremony ahead of schedule."

Melvin raised an eyebrow: "Isn't awarding medals on All Saints' Day a long-standing tradition?"

Mrs. Rozier smiled smugly: "In fact, there is no strict rule on the timing of awarding medals."

With the Purger Dark Wizard apprehended, the officials bribed by New Salem exposed, and the factional struggle within the Ministry of Magic coming to an end, the Rosier family's representative successfully rose to power, further increasing her influence. She certainly had the ability to bring forward the investiture ceremony.

“Sounds good,” Melvin nodded. “But changing past traditions must be very difficult, right?”

"It's not difficult to win over some centrist wizards before the vote."

"It's just an award ceremony, isn't it? It's not worth paying such a price."

“It might not be worth it for others, but it’s different for Professor Levent. I believe you can see our efforts, Professor.”

Madame Rozier made a pointed remark, and seeing Melvin's inquiring expression, she brought up business at the opportune moment, "The content production we discussed last time is very promising, but before that, we need to introduce the film to France, and Rozier is a trustworthy partner."

After their brief farewell at the last dinner party, she had a few more conversations with Vida. Vida was very optimistic about the prospects of the mirror business and hinted at the profits in Budapest, without mentioning the specific amount, only saying that Rozier's branch could be established in Hungary.

"Why are you bringing up business again? Wasn't the dinner supposed to be to thank the professor?" Christine glanced at her mother.

Her beautiful brows furrowed slightly. Last time, she had tried to persuade her family to send someone to help by using the mirror business as a subtle hint, but the case had already been investigated and the Rozier family had made enough profit. She didn't want to extract any more value from Melvin, though she couldn't explain why.

Mrs. Rosier was about to say something more when Christine took the initiative to change the subject to a topic unrelated to interests and business:
“Melvin, I’m about to take over as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but I’m still a bit unfamiliar with the teaching work. Do you have any experience in this area?”

“I wouldn’t call it experience, but I’ve taught a few Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, so I can share my thoughts.” Melvin smiled and glanced at the Rosiers beside him. “Two years ago, when I first arrived at Hogwarts, Professor Quirrell left early, so the vice-principal put me in charge of the practical exams for the lower grades, and as a result, all the students failed.”

"Everyone failed?" Christine's eyes lit up, and she immediately became curious.

"then……"

Mrs. Rozier listened to their pointless conversation, swirling her glass to release the aroma of the wine. Her blue eyes, like Christine's, were slightly closed, concealing her inner thoughts.

Although no business was discussed at the dinner, Melvin left Wright's contact information before leaving, letting them negotiate with the Magic Mirror Club themselves.

……

As night deepened, Christine was in her room reviewing the lesson plans and study guides left behind by Melvin. The lesson plans were from a Muggle research classroom, and the study guides were also Muggle books, titled "The Gift of Fear," which mainly discussed how to protect oneself in dangerous situations and extreme environments.

Page after page, Melvin, a professor of Muggle Studies, doesn't confine his lectures to traditional textbooks. He doesn't adhere to one-sided knowledge; his teaching focuses on broadening students' horizons and stimulating their thinking. His aim isn't the wizarding exams, but something much more far-reaching.

The more you read through these lesson plans, the clearer you can perceive that idea from just a few words.

As I carefully perused the text, it felt as if I had taken a few Muggle studies classes myself, and my impression of Muggles unconsciously began to change.

Natural sciences and alchemy are completely different, but some research methods are universal. Social sciences are even more fascinating, almost exploring the laws of the mind and human nature. How exactly does Melvin view the relationship between Muggles and wizards? Christine became increasingly curious.

If I were to take over as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, what should I teach my students?
Is it the knowledge from books for passing exams, or the mindset for facing various dangerous situations?

Christine's quill pen stopped in place, the ink spreading, her thoughts drifting away.

Seven hundred miles away in Hungary, Aunt Vida and Abernesy are probably going through the books, calculating recent earnings, and perhaps even arguing—one hot-tempered, the other patient.

Melvin repeatedly displayed his iron armor shield before her eyes, capable of stopping the dark wizard, blocking the out-of-control fire dragon, and withstanding the combined attack of the Obscurials, as if all dangers and difficulties could be resolved as long as he uttered the incantation.

Christine sat behind her desk, thinking for a long time before finally beginning to write her lesson plans. Inspired by a professor of Muggle Studies, she was exploring new teaching philosophies for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

……

“Respected recipient of the Medal of Valor, Mr. Levent, I have been waiting for you for a long time,” Grevis said earnestly.

Melvin still smelled faintly of alcohol. As he stepped out of the wrought iron gate, he immediately saw Grevis standing guard by the roadside. Grevis was wearing an Auror uniform from the French Ministry of Magic, with the Woolworth Mansion badge on his chest. Grevis was staring longingly at Melvin.

Melvin was surprised to see Grevis waiting there, and looked puzzled: "What's the emergency that's keeping watch over me outside Rozier Manor in the middle of the night? Or is some important person looking for me? Why didn't you just have your house-elf announce it?"

Grevis gave a knowing smile, while Melvin frowned in disgust.

“Someone did contact you, but it wasn’t anyone important. It was a death row inmate,” Grevis said with an embarrassed smile. “The mastermind behind the Obscurus, the boy who didn’t have his prefrontal lobe removed, Pikani.”

"He wants to see me?"

"Let's talk as we walk..."

Grevis and Melvin walked side by side down the street along the Seine, their figures flickering in the shadows of the night, accompanied by a faint hum in the air.

"The other two groups of cultists from New Salem who were hiding in Paris have been captured and are being held in the French Ministry of Magic prison. They will be interrogated by the Aurors tonight. Many of their crimes require outside witness testimony. Pikani has a good memory, a clear mind, and is not a Purger, making him the best candidate to be a witness."

Grevis's voice mingled with the night mist as he explained: "Mr. Bonnell asked me to persuade Piccani. I spent an afternoon with the Obscurial in the special prison, and he showed no signs of relenting until I mentioned the little girl I met at Père Lachaise Cemetery, Bastad."

“I combined their testimonies and fabricated the events: that Bastad appeared above the Louvre, delaying their operation to capture the Granger family, and finally escaped when no one was paying attention. He has not been seen since and his whereabouts are unknown. This girl was not among the cult members who were captured this time.”

The two quickly approached the French Ministry of Magic along the main street of Paris: "He seems to realize that you were the one who let the girl go, and he wants to see you alone."

"So why did you agree to the death row inmate's request?" Melvin glanced at him indifferently.

“It’s mainly because I feel sorry for him.” Grevis sighed. “He’s not even ten years old yet, his life hasn’t even begun, he has no memories to cherish, and he didn’t show any emotion when he learned that he was sentenced to death. He even said that the Ministry of Magic prison treated them very well, and that the food and drink were good.”

Melvin sighed as well, feeling a pang of pity for the young wizard who should have been a freshman at Iphamony, a student sitting in a classroom.

Upon arriving at Furstenberg Square, they took the Birdcage Elevator to the Ministry of Magic. Grevis, already familiar with the route, led Melvin to the special prison on the lower level.

A spherical room, with walls covered in a heavy, slow-flowing mercury-like liquid.

The execution chambers in Woolworth Building were decorated with this kind of potion. Any magic that touches the liquid will dissipate, and any living being that touches it will be submerged. It extracts the beautiful memories in the mind and turns them into a potion that annihilates the body.

The boy was trapped on a platform in the center of the room, like a sailor stranded on a deserted island. His collar had been removed, but his hands and ankles were bound by brass chains, the ligatures of which were faintly visible.

After being washed by the Aurors and changed into prisoner's clothes, his body was much cleaner, and he could no longer smell the faint stench. He also had food and clean water every day, so he thought it was pretty good here.

“Grevis said you want to see me.” Melvin spoke to him through the observation window, looking at the thin boy with empty, lifeless eyes. “What’s your name?”

The boy's eyes focused more intently: "P...Pikani."

The cultists called him Pikani, which means little bastard. He didn't have a name of his own; perhaps his mother had given him one and called him that name while he was asleep, but he couldn't remember it anymore.

Melvin paused, not addressing him by name, and asked, "Sir, is there something you need?"

“Bastad…”

Pikani looked up, wanting to see Melvin's eyes, but his long years of enslavement had made him instinctively avoid eye contact. Melvin's arrival reminded him of that day.

In the thick fog and leaden clouds in the sky, he, now an Obscurial, was engulfed by flames, as if he had returned to the time when he first entered New Salem. His once invincible Obscurial power had turned into fuel, and he could only flee in panic amidst the flames and fog. But the sky was shrouded by an invisible iron wall, and he could only howl in terror and scream in the heatwave, letting the flames devour him.

The boy felt the burning pain return, his body trembled a few times, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself down. As if reciting a prayer, he asked, "Wizard, your magical cage is indestructible, your magical flames burn everything away, Bastad has no chance of escaping, but they have no news of Bastad... Bastad is safe, isn't he?"

Melvin paused for a moment without answering the question: "Her name is Bastian now."

As the most perceptive slave in the Obscurials, Pikany had learned to interpret words without being taught, and naturally gleaned the answer from Melvin's reply, his eyes revealing a look of delight.

“Bastian… Bastian…” Piccani whispered, his face a complex mix of emotions.

“It’s a French name that means ‘a respected person’,” Melvin said calmly, looking at the boy. “Are you friends with Bastian?”

The boy shook his head: "We just came from the same orphanage, barely spoke to each other, became Obscurials, moved to Texas, hid there, and then were brought to this city."

"Then why do you care about her?"

"It's nothing, I just wanted to make sure that slaves like us could have a decent ending."

With his final question answered, Pikani completely relaxed, sitting cross-legged in the room. The flowing silver potion illuminated the scars on his body. He looked at the blurry reflection on the ceiling and spoke of the Purifier's method of cultivating Obscurials.

(End of this chapter)