Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 234 Montmorency Street

Olem Maxim stood on the attic terrace, his olive-colored face slightly bewildered.

Pedestrians stroll along the cobblestone streets of Rue Montmorency, while outside, a bustling and noisy market unfolds.

Although they were only a few feet apart, as the alchemical array on the gray stone wall rotated, the sounds of vendors hawking their wares and customers haggling on the street drifted up from below. The noise was absorbed and reduced, and the sounds entered the attic, leaving only faint echoes, like white noise in the Pyrenees at night.

The attic was cleverly located, with natural light streaming in through the skylight. In mid-July, the Parisian sun was bright and clear, warming you up and making you want to sneeze.

Every piece of furniture in the room bears the marks of time. The old shelves and clock are probably handicrafts from Muggle artisans two hundred years ago, older than the Ministry of Magic. The parchment manuscripts on the bookshelf are from the 14th century. Even in Beauxbatons' library, it is difficult to find original books from that era.

On the table sits a crystal ball, through which a hazy future can be vaguely seen.

Every corner of the attic exudes the mysterious aura of a legendary alchemist. Most of the objects are decades or even centuries old. The only recent addition is a silver mirror hanging on the brick wall behind the fireplace, which a gaunt old wizard is installing, and children are playing with it like a new toy.

In just a few days, the Rozier family launched the mirror in Paris, attracting wizards from all over France to buy it. According to information received by Principal Beauxbatons, wizarding shops in several neighboring countries, including Spain, Portugal, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, and Belgium, also purchased the mirror.

The mirror seemed to ride on the Floo Net, entering the homes of countless wizards.

Summer temperatures are rising, and the sun is scorching hot, but the market outside remains bustling, frequented by many wizards from out of town.

Olem Maxim removed the luxurious white dress from her neck, turned and went into the room. She had an olive-colored face, bright black eyes like pebbles, and a robust frame that seemed to be able to touch the ceiling with her bare hands.

Logically speaking, it would be difficult for such a robust woman to behave like a lady, but she was elegant in demeanor, her hair was neatly combed, and every move she made resembled that of a noblewoman raised by an ancient wizarding family.

"The Unicom FiloNet... there's a groove in the back... Wright optimized the process."

"The seams here are uneven... It must be the assembly line defect he mentioned... He sold me a defective product for 700 Galleons, what a swindler."

The old, hunched-over wizard muttered in a low voice. He had silver hair and pale, wrinkled skin. With each trembling movement, the tassels on his robe swayed back and forth. This level of exercise was too strenuous for a six-hundred-year-old wizard, and he occasionally had to stop to catch his breath.

Seeing the old wizard's labored movements, Ms. Maxim couldn't help but ask:

“Mr. Nicolas Flamel, I don’t understand. Why would a great alchemist like yourself have such a strong interest in the mirror? Is the alchemy on this mirror very profound?”

“Profound? No, not at all, it’s even clumsy.”

"Then why..."

"Because this crude and simple silver mirror, like the crystal ball I use for divination, holds the future within it."

Nicolas Flamel hung up the reflex mirror, tapped it lightly with his index finger, and then turned around shakily. Just as he returned to the chaise lounge, the mirror finished opening, lines emerged from the surging silver mist, outlining the contours, and finally filling in the colors, just in time for the midday performance.

"Ladies and gentlemen, open your eyes wide and hold your breath! Tonight you will witness an unprecedented and spectacular performance, more incredible than ancient magic, a wondrous creation that even the Creator could not have imagined..."

Maxim watched carefully for a few minutes and realized that it was just an ordinary wizard circus performance, seemingly edited from the memory of someone in the front row, mixed with the noise of conversations from neighboring seats. Some audience members mentioned keywords such as the Quidditch World Cup, Scotland, and Canada, and judging from the content of the conversation, it should be a memory from several years ago.

The host used sensational language to stir emotions, but since it was a public performance with tickets sold in a Ministry of Magic-controlled area, the formal performance on stage was not exactly groundbreaking. It featured some rare magical creatures and a few strange spells from remote areas, relying on stage techniques to highlight visual excitement.

But for the headmaster of the magic school, these performances could only be described as interesting; for the six-hundred-year-old wizard, they would only be more tedious and boring.

Maxim turned to look at the old wizard, who was watching with great interest, his silver eyes gleaming.

Seemingly sensing her confusion, Nicolas Flamel turned to her: "Olive, you have to understand how happy I am to be able to watch the performances from the outside world from home, for an old man like me who is not able to move around easily."

Maxim looked at the nearly seven-hundred-year-old man and opened his mouth: "I thought you were the one who favored the founder of the Magic Mirror, Melvin Levent."

“Melvin, he is indeed the one I chose.” The position of Nicolas Flamel’s recliner was carefully calculated, located diagonally below the skylight, where he could bask in the sun. The slightly scorching sunlight was just the right temperature for the old man, and he could feel the blood warming and flowing through his stiff and cold body.

"The chosen one... he will forge a new Philosopher's Stone?" Maxim's dark eyes widened. Nicolas Flamel's Book of Abraham was no secret; many wizards knew the process of how the Philosopher's Stone was created.

“I didn’t say that. I just think he’s a young man with unlimited potential.”

Nicolas Flamel shook his head, picked up the coffee on the table, and slowly took a sip. "He would have made the world a more wonderful and interesting place, but unfortunately I won't live to see that day."

"Don't say that."

Maxim felt pressured to speak with the alumnus. “I’m here today to ask about a few things regarding the future of Beauxbatons.”

"Um……"

Nicolas Flamel let out a long breath, as if in agreement, or perhaps exhaling the bitterness of coffee.

“As you know, the Mediterranean used to be pirate territory. Some wizards have been entrenched at sea for years, never setting foot on land or landing. A few months ago, their leader came to me, hoping to send their children to school in Beauxbatons.”

Nicolas Flamel paused for a moment: "Is there anything else?"

"Hogwarts has drastically changed its Muggle studies curriculum. Should Beauxbatons follow suit? Should our school actively embrace Muggle technology?"

"Is there anything else?"

"I also want to ask, can the secrecy law really be maintained?"

Maxim asked sincerely, as a half-giant, the pressure she faced sitting in the principal's seat was unimaginable, and she earnestly hoped to get an answer from the wise man: "Muggle footprints are frequently seen deep in the Pyrenees, and I feel that one day they will come to Beauxbatons' door."

She looked directly at the old man: "Mr. Nicolas Flamel, I hope you can stay a little longer. The Egyptian Alchemy Research Center has sent a letter inquiring about your condition. The International Wizarding Congress is about to be held, and we need an experienced old wizard to guide us."

Nicolas Flamel did not answer immediately, but closed his eyes and tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest, as if he was thinking.

About three minutes later, the fireplace lit up with green flames, and an old woman appeared in the room.

Maxim quickly greeted her, "Mrs. Flamel."

"It's Orim."

The old woman seemed to be in better health; she was less stiff as she moved. She spotted the coffee on the table and glared at the old wizard. "Your old bones are crispier than fries, and you still want to drink coffee? You won't be able to sleep at night, and you'll have strange dreams even when you do." Nicolas Flamel could only force a smile.

The old woman scolded them for a while, then turned to the female principal: "It's perfect that you're here. I'm planning to make Provençal stew. Can you help me prepare the ingredients?"

Maxim then noticed that she was carrying fresh vegetables she had just bought: "Yes, madam."

Although Maxim was no longer a newly graduated young witch, she still felt awkward and restrained in front of these two living fossil wizards, and could only obey their orders, busying herself with preparing tomatoes, zucchini, and eggplants...

His large frame was confined to the ordinary-sized kitchen, making it difficult for him to move around freely. He was even a little flustered, as if he had returned to the time when he had just been promoted, when he was also in a state of panic adapting to various school affairs, learning to deal with the Ministry of Magic, learning to deal with the Board of Governors, and receiving help from the Nicolas Flamels in the most difficult time.

She finished cooking the stew in a daze, then helped wash the dishes and cook other dishes. It wasn't until she sat down at the table that she came to her senses.

What question did she just ask Mr. Nicolas Flamel?

After lunch, Nicolas Flamel lay lazily in a chair. The angle of the skylight had changed at some point, allowing the slanted sunlight to fall on the old man. Maxim, who had finished washing the dishes, came out of the kitchen and saw the old man with his eyes slightly lowered, looking drowsy.

She knew those questions probably wouldn't have any answers.

Before leaving, Maxim couldn't resist leaning closer to the old man and whispering, "Sir, is there anything you'd like to leave me?"

“My advice is…” Nicolas Flamel paused slightly, “Don’t ask Nicolas Flamel about everything; he’s just an old wizard.”

Maxim paused for a moment, and when she came to her senses, she was already on the spiral staircase leading down to the attic. Perenaar saw her off as they walked out of the room. A flash of white light appeared, and they found themselves at a corner of steps on Rue Montmorency, with a bronze witch statue behind them.

Perenaar handed her a package: "This attic will be completely sealed off from now on. Don't come looking for us again. Just pretend we've left."

"..."

"Here are some Gringotts deposit slips and vault keys, as well as the deed to the Pyrenees Castle. Hopefully, these things will help you manage the school and shut up those stubborn guys on the board of trustees."

Perenaar gently reminded him, "By the way, the Goblet of Fire is about to restart, you need to prepare in advance."

"The Goblet of Fire?"

Maxim wanted to ask more, but the old woman shook her head and remained silent. As usual, she said goodbye, turned and walked towards the bronze witch statue, her figure disappearing from sight.

Maxim was still somewhat unwilling to give up and tried to lift the skirt of the bronze statue using the old method, but the statue did not move. Just as the old woman had said, the place had been sealed off and the old couple could no longer be disturbed.

Maxim stood there stunned for a long time until her tall figure attracted the attention of passersby. She stepped into the carriage of the Divine Symbol parked by the roadside and left Rue Montmorency with the sound of the Pegasus flapping its wings.

……

Night falls, in a corner at the back of the Paris Opera.

The stage curtains haven't been drawn yet; there's still some time before the official performance.

The short, stout Mr. Delacour glanced around. To his right was his wife, Apollino, and to his left were Gabrielle and Fleur. No one else paid any attention to his movements. He wasn't particularly interested in the ballet that was about to begin, so he took out a newspaper he had bought on the way and started flipping through it under the theater lights.

"The Magic Mirror has recently swept through Montmorency Street, prompting wizards in the surrounding area to bid up prices in a rush to buy it..."

"Wright, the head of the Mirror Club, arrived in Paris and liaised with the Ministry of Magic's Transport Department. The Floo network upgrade was completed in a short time. Mr. Bonnell of the Auror Bureau introduced them to the Belgian Ministry of Magic. The Mirror Club business continues to expand. According to relevant staff, neighboring Ministries of Magic are discussing connecting their Floo networks..."

"At 11 a.m. this morning, Auror Bureau patrol officers arrested several illegal wizards on Montmorency Street. Investigations revealed they were a smuggling ring of dark wizards stealing mirrors, unrelated to the New Salem cult incident. It is rumored that criminals from New Salem and the Purge are still at large, and the investigation and pursuit are ongoing. Our reporters will continue to follow this story..."

"The Magic Mirror is selling fast! Violet Cafe has it in stock, so hurry while supplies last!"

Mr. Delacour turned to look at his daughter Gabrielle, who was also reading the newspaper, but she couldn't read the words yet. She just stared at the developing photos and blinked. One of them was a news article from not long ago about the Louvre fog incident.

At this moment, his wife turned around and asked, "So, did anyone notice us that day?"

"The dark wizard who launched the attack that day was a cultist. Fortunately, Hogwarts and Professor Beauxbatons were nearby and subdued the dark wizard, handing him over to the Auror Bureau. There have been no reports of our warning so far."

Apolline nodded: "As long as no one notices, that's fine. Veela is already in a difficult situation. If she gets involved in the cult incident, Fleur will be ostracized even more at school."

The Veela community has maintained a low profile over the years, hoping to integrate into the wizarding community as soon as possible. Because of their bird-headed, human-bodied form, Veelas have always been controversial and not accepted by the mainstream wizarding community. Fleur, who has Veela blood flowing through her veins, has a beautiful and delicate appearance, but she has also attracted many strange looks from others.

These things are hard to sort out.

The couple looked at each other and sighed.

"Dad, Mom, can we buy a mirror on our way home?" Gabrielle asked softly. Although she couldn't understand the length of the report, she could still grasp some of the content by combining the vocabulary she knew with the pictures.

“It’s just a mirror, Gabrielle wants it—” Mr. Delacour stroked her hair, about to agree.

Apolline, standing nearby, cleared her throat: "Shh, don't talk, the performance is about to start."

The two immediately fell silent.

Melvin and Christine, sitting in the back, exchanged a smile. Although they heard the Delacour family's conversation, they did not make a sound to disturb them, because the stage had already begun.

Tonight's performance is the ballet "Giselle," which tells the love story of Giselle, a country girl who meets Albert, a nobleman who is engaged. The hunter Hilarion, who is in love with Giselle, exposes the nobleman's identity. Giselle is heartbroken and collapses, finally falling to the ground and dying amidst the gasps of the crowd.

The second act takes on a magical quality, where Giselle's spirit encounters a group of female ghosts, all of whom were unfortunate women abandoned by unfaithful men in life. They harbor resentment and seek opportunities for revenge.

The ghosts had repeatedly surrounded young men near the cemetery, forcing them to dance until they died from exhaustion.

At night, Hilarion arrives at the cemetery and is immediately surrounded by ghosts, who punish him to death. The noble boy Albert also comes to Giselle's grave to pour out his heart, and the ghosts try to kill him as well. However, the kind-hearted Giselle does her best to protect him and survives.

Love stories intertwined with ghosts and spirits are perfect for filming, which is why they're sitting here tonight.

(End of this chapter)