Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 232 Silent Request
On Christmas Eve 1990, a blizzard blanketed the New Salem Charity Association. Thick clouds obscured the sky, and not a ray of light could be seen. The howling wind whipped up snowflakes, causing the windows to tremble.

The terrible weather did not dampen the Christmas party atmosphere. The orphanage kitchen had prepared the feast food well in advance. The freshly baked bread was steaming with a sweet aroma, and the turkey in the oven had a golden-brown, glistening skin.

The roaring firewood in the fireplace dispelled the cold, allowing the nuns to change into dresses and look radiant indoors. The gentlemen were equally well-dressed, and when they occasionally encountered young slaves, they no longer wore cold expressions but would pretend to take out a few candies from their pockets and say some amusing things.

“Pikani, have you finished your work? Oh, you cleared the snow in the yard, that’s great!” The scarred priest squatted down and affectionately patted the boy’s face until it was red and swollen, then smiled with satisfaction. “What a good boy, Merry Christmas.”

"Who swept the snow in front of the door? Who wiped the table? It was our Kuhn..." The pastor reached out and pinched another boy's face until it was red and swollen, then pretended to give him two pieces of chocolate.

They both wore collars that symbolized their status as slaves, which were also a means of confinement and control. Only the two of them wore collars in the entire orphanage because they had shown the talent of the Obscurus, which allowed them to kill and do things for the masters.

Bastad huddled in the corner behind the curtains, having done everything her mother had told her: not to wander around, to avoid appearing in front of the priest and nuns, and to try her hand at chocolate and fruit candy.

Unlike Pikani and Kuhn, she was too young to understand the lessons taught by the priests and nuns. She only knew that the magic flowing through her body was unwelcome, but she didn't think it was anything bad.

“Bastad, don’t be greedy. Mother said you can’t appear in front of gentlemen and ladies.” She swallowed and shrank further into the shadows.

Her mother wasn't a high-ranking nun, but a servant who needed to atone for her sins. She worked in the kitchen and occasionally brought in kitchen scraps like apple peels or breadcrumbs, wondering what delicious food awaited her that night.

The main hall was already filled with priests and nuns, who had changed out of their usual dull and monotonous robes and put on bright and beautiful dresses and skirts. Under the sound system and colored lights, they embraced each other, chatted and laughed, and danced.

When no one was around, Bastad slipped out of the room and went to the corridor outside. He shivered in the cold wind and glanced at the end of the corridor. Sure enough, his mother was standing there, one hand tucked into her cheap smock, a smile on her tired face.

"Magic is such an evil and filthy thing."

The young pastor stood by the window in the main hall, watching from afar the heartwarming scene of the slave mother and daughter. "The kitchen was empty for less than three minutes because of the Christmas party, and this lowly slave who had slept with the wizard stole food from New Salem to feed her child. Greedy and selfish."

“Yes, that’s how wizards are, and so are the Purifiers. They only need a little temptation to turn into devils, willing to sacrifice their own kind for gold.” The bishop sat in front of the fireplace, carefully wiping the leather whip with a handkerchief dipped in a clear liquid, examining the thorns and barbs on it. “We, the people of New Salem, will purify them. The wizards in this church have vile and filthy blood. They will undergo a transformation under our guidance, turning their magic into new and wondrous power.”

“Pikani and Kuhn are in very stable condition. The recent deal was only successful because they were there. We need to ensure that Bastad completes her transformation smoothly.” The priest spoke in a gentle tone about the sinister plan, “Punish her mother, make her wail in front of her, and make her understand that all of this is because of the magic within her.”

"And she wants her mother to die slowly right before her eyes."

The bishop wiped his whip and put on his usual robe.

The two pushed open the door and left, locking the warm and harmonious festive atmosphere of the main hall inside. Snowflakes swirled in the air, and the biting cold wind howled. The slave mother and daughter huddled together, sitting in the vent, enjoying the warmth inside. The girl smacked her lips, savoring the sweetness on her tongue. This beautiful moment seemed to be forever etched in her memory.

The sound of the bishop and priest's footsteps made the two quickly separate, their bodies trembling slightly, whether from fear or cold, it was hard to tell.

The bishop looked down at the two of them, noticing the syrup-like substance on the girl's lips, and gave her a friendly smile.
"Poor lady, lost lamb, your soul has been corrupted by magic, and you are lost in the wilderness of greed and selfishness. Today is Christmas, and God is certainly willing to forgive you, but are you willing to accept this forgiveness and atone for your mistakes?"

Bastad knelt on the cold steps, watching his mother plead and beg, kneeling and kissing the bishop's shoes, repeatedly admitting his mistakes and arguing that it was all the evil magic that had controlled him, and that it had nothing to do with Bastad.

Bastad couldn't understand why they cared about that little bit of frosting. They had plenty of bread and roast chicken, plenty of wine and juice. Yet, one of them was accusing the other, and the other was begging for forgiveness. It seemed perfectly reasonable for his young and immature mind to accept it.

The bishop believed that God's forgiveness was unconditional, but sinners who made mistakes still had to be punished. So he raised his long whip and lashed it hard. The whistling of the whip as it cut through the air was like thunder. The pastor was high above, while his mother rolled and wailed in the snow. Her coat was torn by the whip, and blood mingled with the white snow.

The gentlemen and ladies in the main hall were still celebrating Christmas when several young slaves, hearing the commotion, rushed out and stood motionless to the side, their faces solemn.

Bastad was the youngest of the slaves; the other children all looked older than her. Buck and Winky were around six years old, and Kuhn and Pikani were seven. They had experienced similar suffering, and their expressions remained unchanged at this moment.

Hundreds of miles away, on a fir tree outside the Ifamoni Castle, a white snake blends into the snow, its pupils silvery-white.

……

"The barbs on the whip were soaked in poison, which prevented the wound from healing. Bastad's mother could only work with the wound and did not survive that winter."

Picardi spoke softly, his face thin and pale, “Bastad became an Obscurial after his mother’s death.”

No one can imagine the torment that such a young girl suffered, transforming from an innocent child into a cruel and indifferent weapon. The wizard, who should have grown up healthily, was burdened with heavy sins because of magic, and under the guidance of cultists, used the lives of others to wash away this non-existent sin. But the little girl did not fall into depravity, and found a new way out from despair.

"How did you become an Obscurial?" Melvin asked.

“My parents were tortured to death in front of me, and that’s how it happened.”

"The silent ones generally don't live past ten years old."

“I know, because I am already the most senior Obscurial in New Salem, and I will be ten years old in four months, so I don’t care about the death penalty. My body is full of uncontrollable power. When I am an Obscurial, I always lose consciousness and can only instinctively obey their commands. This is a tree that they planted in my brain and they call the subconscious.”

Piccani tapped his head. "Bastad didn't have too many murders on her record. She had just become an Obscurial when we started moving around frequently, as if we were hiding from someone. We didn't stay in Waco for long before we arrived in Paris, where you caught us."

"What do you want to say?"

"I hope you will treat Bastad well. She will be seven years old soon and won't live much longer."

He looked directly into Melvin's eyes through the window, a gray mist swirling in his pupils. "If you're worried she might get out of control and cause injury or death, you can lock her up. She's a very easy girl to please, Professor Levent."

Melvin was momentarily dazed, a few strands of hair swaying. In this enclosed underground room, a gentle breeze seemed to blow in his face. Looking up, he saw the same prison filled with the mercury potion, with an open space in the middle where Pikani lay down, refusing to communicate with anyone no matter how much Grevis called out to him.

……

"hiss……"

"Wang..."

The young snake looked up at Melvin and tried to understand several languages, but Melvin couldn't understand any of them.

These past few days have been spent investigating cases and traveling around. Yulm can only sleep in the Emerald during the day and come out to move around when he returns to the hotel at night. He got back to the hotel late today. The baby snake had been cooped up in the Emerald for too long and was so anxious that it was almost learning to speak human language.

Melvin stroked the young snake's head, a gesture similar to petting a cat or dog. This method might not work on snakes, but this snake had been with Tooth for too long and had picked up dog-like habits. When its head was patted and its chin scratched, it wagged its tail happily, and was soothed in just a few minutes.

Melvin closed his eyes to feel the magic within his body, and suddenly felt a hazy gray thing. If the gift of the longhorned water serpent was cool stream water, the blessing of the unicorn was silvery moonlight, and the gratitude of the fire dragon was bright blue flames, this thing was like mist.

It was like the scene you see when you open the window on a deep winter morning: gray clouds obscuring the sky, moisture permeating the earth, and thick fog shrouding the forest and castle, damp and oppressive, making it hard to breathe.

Melvin felt a slight unease. Perhaps he subconsciously thought the Obscurus were wizards, or perhaps he had overlooked the fact that the Obscurus were magical creatures. He never expected to gain access to their strange powers.

"Is this... a silent request?" Melvin said softly.

This was the fourth magical animal power he had acquired, and it looked different from the previous ones. He could vaguely sense the difference. While the previous powers were all based on positive emotions, this one was unclear and ambiguous.

Despite expressing gratitude for redemption, Pikani's words contained little to no gratitude.

But the burning hatred seemed unconcerned by his earlier attitude.

Melvin was still unsure of the magic's effect, so he picked up his wand and tried casting a few spells to see what would happen. He tried simple basic spells, guardian charms representing positive emotions, dark magic requiring malice, and even the Unforgivable Curse, but none of them produced any significant effect.

"hiss……"

Yulm sat cross-legged on the table watching his performance, his silver vertical pupils filled with curiosity.

Melvin didn't dwell too much on the effects of magic; these things were a matter of luck, and it might suddenly come in handy someday. Not feeling sleepy for a while, Melvin simply called Voldemort out and shared his experiences investigating the case over the past few days.

"...So that scar wasn't caused by some dark magic, but by an Obscurus, an Obscurus transformed from a wizard's child?"

Riddle's phantom floated above the golden cup. He was dressed in a black suit, with slightly sunken cheeks, a pale but handsome face, and when he frowned in thought, he did indeed look like a professor or scholar.

“New Salem and the Purifiers find those neglected wizarding children, torture them both physically and mentally to make them reject magic, and then, coupled with the trauma of their parents’ deaths, twist their souls and cause their magic to become distorted. The Obscurus created in this way is far more destructive than ordinary wizards,” Melvin said.

Riddle was silent for a moment, a thoughtful expression in his eyes, as if he were caught in some kind of dilemma.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters revere pure-bloods and are generally still in the wizarding camp. He despises the actions of Muggle cultists, but putting that aside, the Obscurus, which transform Mudbloods and the offspring of their enemies into weapons, is far more powerful than the Infernal.

Riddle finally shook his head: "They are really stupid. Compared to Obscurials who can only grow up to 10 years old, adult wizards can play a much greater role. They can control Obscurials and also control wizards when they grow up, and can gain more benefits."

“They hate magic, they despise magic.” Melvin’s eyes were filled with complex emotions.

“No, not disgust, but fear. They fear the unknown, fear the power they cannot control, fear the existence of beings stronger than themselves,” Riddle said sarcastically. “Muggles are such foolish things. I recognized their ignorance and arrogance long ago.”

He spoke softly to Melvin, his pupils dilating slightly as he recalled distant memories.

Melvin looked into those eyes, then suddenly remembered something and asked softly, "And you, why do you hate Muggles?"

"I will not hate lowly insects."

"Or rather, disgust?"

"I will not despise insects either."

"You killed them and turned them into Infernals. How is that any different from cultists torturing young wizards and turning them into Obscurians?" Melvin raised his eyes, his pupils swirling with gray mist.

Riddle felt himself falling, enveloped by a strong sense of weightlessness. He was shocked to find himself not in his Paris hotel room, but on a black rock. Below him was not Hufflepuff's golden cup, but a group of reefs with waves crashing against them. He remembered that there was a cave in the reefs, and a lake in the cave. Falling into it meant being swallowed by the Infernal.

He tried desperately to escape the illusion, but his illusory soul seemed to have gained weight again, and he could not escape the cave no matter what.

In an instant, it was as if a thick fog enveloped Riddle's soul, and past scenes floated by: an old, dimly lit orphanage, a hot summer day, the sea crashing against the rocks in front of him, the salty, damp air hitting his face, and him standing on the shore with the other children in the orphanage.

Young Tom Riddle was being insulted and mocked when someone pushed him, causing his head to fall into the water.

(End of this chapter)