Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 239 Return to London
Early August, London.

On the road in Hampstead, a suburb of London, the Granger family returned from a long trip, carrying their backpacks. They glanced at the flowerbeds on both sides of the road, slightly dazed. Compared to the sweltering heat of Paris, the temperature in London was more humid and cold, and the vegetation in the gardens and courtyards was more lush and greener.

The bewildered Bastian followed Hermione closely, his eyes filled with the innocence of a little girl, curiously observing everything around him.

"This will be your home from now on."

"This is my home."

Bastian's small face showed no expression as he repeated in a low voice.

“We always do a thorough cleaning after each trip. We cleaned up the empty room on the left side of the second-floor corridor. Look, that's the room. It will be your bedroom from now on.”

"My bedroom."

"You can't slack off later. You have to help tidy up. If you can't move things, at least wipe the table and help me organize the clutter, understand?"

Hermione's tone was light and cheerful, and she was in a very good mood.

Bastian nodded emphatically: "I know! I've done these things before, and I can move things too."

Hermione felt a surge of pity and suddenly didn't want Bastian to do housework anymore, but then she shook her head. Cleaning her own bedroom was housework, while working for a cultist was enslavement; the two things were different in nature.

I stepped into my home, which I hadn't been to for almost a month.

The three of them got busy. Because they had laid out a tarpaulin and locked the doors and windows before leaving, the housework of cleaning was not so heavy. They opened the windows to let in fresh air, drained the yellowish water from the pipes, and wiped everything up and down, and that was about it.

The main physical labor was assigned to the only man in the family, with Mrs. Granger taking on some of the work. The two underage child laborers only assisted by handing things over and wiping tables and chairs.

Bastian is quick and efficient, does housework fast and well, and can even help Hermione with chores when he has free time.

Seeing Hermione's complicated expression and silence, she would offer a seemingly sincere reassurance: "It's okay. Everyone has their own strengths. I used to do these things often, so I'm quite skilled at them. You're not good at this, but you're good at reading and learning, and you know a lot of things that I don't."

Hermione pursed her lips and said nothing.

"Bastian, fetch me half a bucket of water," Mrs. Granger called from downstairs.

"Okay! Coming!"

"..."

Hermione watched as Bastian carried the bucket away; this kind of chores was usually her job.

As he passed by Mr. Granger, the middle-aged dentist suddenly turned around and yelled. After cleaning, he inevitably got some dust on his body, and he had some marks on his face. He was baring his teeth and claws, trying to scare Bastian.

Bastian stared at him for a few seconds, then made a threatening gesture and let out a low, loud growl, which startled Mr. Granger.

Mrs. Granger tilted her head slightly, her smile exceptionally gentle.

Two adult laborers and one and a half minor laborers, the four of them bustling about inside and outside, and Bastian integrated into this family in the process of being busy, feeling that he had truly found a home.

After a busy day of running around, I went out for a quick bite to eat in the evening.

On their first night back in London, Bastian would still have to share a bedroom with Hermione temporarily, as they hadn't had time to buy supplies for the new family member. They already had pillows, blankets, and sheets at home, but they didn't have spare bed frames or mattresses, which they would have to buy at the store the next day.

Hermione emptied her suitcase, sorted and organized the items, put her clothes in the closet, placed the wood carvings and postcards she bought in Paris on the table, and decided who to send them to. Then she sat down at the desk by the window and began to write letters.

Bastian lay in the soft, warm blankets, like a squirrel curled up in a tree hole, tilting his head to look at Hermione beside the bed:
"What are you doing?"

"Write a letter to a friend."

"write a letter……"

"Yes, it's been a month since I left. I need to know how they're doing and arrange to meet them at Diagon Alley before school starts so we can buy the things on our back-to-school list together."

Hermione kept her head down, the pen tip scratching across the paper.

Harry has to stay at the Dursleys' house during the summer holidays, and no one knows how he's doing. Bastian's example is right next to him, and she's worried that Harry is being mistreated.

At the end of July, she was in Paris, spending all her time with Bastian, and almost forgot Harry's birthday. She could only write an international letter two days beforehand, and the birthday gift could only be sent internationally. She didn't know if it would arrive on time.

Hermione felt a little guilty, but now that she was back in London, she decided to write a letter to say hello.

……

My dearest friend Harry:
I hope you received my birthday letter. I know it was a bit hastily written, but the wishes were sincere.

I'm back from my vacation in France. The trip was so exciting, I don't even know where to begin. I met Professor Levant in Paris; the situation was incredibly critical, and I swear, I was almost moved to tears the moment I saw him. Also, I gained a younger sister. For the next few weeks, our family will be busy with her immigration status and school registration. My mother has already scheduled several school entrance interviews, and the whole family will be working on it.

France also has a Ministry of Magic and Aurors, and I even got involved in a case. I didn't even have much time to experience the interesting magic there. Fortunately, I learned how the Ministry of Magic works and the history of local wizarding families. I've written these things into my thesis on the history of magic. I hope Professor Binns won't deduct points when he sees the thesis, because it's two rolls of parchment longer than the required length.

If all goes as expected, this letter will be sent by the postman from the Prophet's newspaper. I have a subscription to their long-distance mail service, which allows the newspaper to be sent to Paris. Now I only need to send it to London, paying the extra service fee for the postman's service.

Did you see the news in the Daily Prophet? Ron and his family went to Egypt. How enviable! Ancient Egyptian wizards are world-famous.

The back-to-school checklist has arrived, along with a weekend activity consent form. We can spend our weekends at Hogsmeade next semester—how exciting! I'll be shopping in Diagon Alley on the last weekend of August. What about you? Let me know if it's convenient, or if not, see you on the Hogwarts Express.

Your best friend Hermione

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Hermione was still the same; he really hoped Professor Binns would fail her homework.

Setting down the letter he had just received, he looked up and met the gaze of the Owl Postman, his eyes slightly annoyed. His annoyance was understandable; according to the address on the envelope, the letter should have been delivered to the Dursleys' house at 4 Privet Drive in Little Wheelingham, but the recipient, Harry, was currently living on the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron, forcing the Owl Postman to take a longer route.

Harry stroked the owl's feathers and, while Hedwig was out, separated a few pieces of its dried white mouse as an apology to the postman.

The owl postman accepted the payment and became much friendlier. He rubbed his palm against the postman's hand and tilted his head, asking with his eyes if the postman needed a reply.

Harry shook his head and watched the Postman spread his wings, leave the window of the Leaky Cauldron, and disappear into the morning light of Diagon Alley. As dawn broke, he could hear the sounds of cars coming from the Muggle streets, as well as the voices of vendors and pedestrians in Diagon Alley.

The reason he left No. 4 Privet Road and stayed at the Leaky Cauldron Bar dates back to a few days ago.

This summer vacation was just as tough as the last. My cousin Dudley, who was as fat as a pig, was home on vacation and would occasionally make sarcastic remarks about Harry. My uncle chimed in, while my aunt remained silent. But that didn't matter. As long as we could get through the summer vacation and return to Hogwarts, everything would be fine.

Aunt Maggie, Uncle Vernon's sister, is a shrew who lives in the countryside. She is not related to Harry by blood, but she insists that Harry call her Aunt. Every time she visits, she leaves Harry with terrible memories.

When Harry was not yet five years old, Aunt Maggie tried to break his leg with her cane. When he was seven, she gave him dog biscuits as a Christmas present, trying to trick him into eating them in public. When he was ten, Aunt Maggie let her dog chase and bite Harry, forcing him to climb a tree to hide, and only called him back after midnight.

There were many more such incidents, and Harry had no doubt that Aunt Maggie's visit was still full of malice, but considering it was summer vacation during his second year, he was willing to endure it in order to get his aunt and uncle to agree to sign the consent form.

He restrained himself and did not have a conflict with Aunt Maggie.

But this restraint shattered at the dinner table two days ago when the shrew who owned the dog insulted Harry's parents. He could no longer bear it, and a surge of anger welled up inside him. He cast a spell to inflate Maggie into a balloon and hang her on the roof, looking just as pathetic as he had been hanging from a tree a few years ago.

The feeling after the impulsive act was not pleasant. He had violated the Secret Service Act and the Regulations on Restricting the Use of Magic by Minors. He would probably have his wand confiscated and be expelled from school. He would be homeless and have nowhere to go.

However, things didn't go as he expected.

He took the Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron, where he met Minister Cornelius Fudge, a minister with a bad reputation. Instead of confiscating Harry's wand or invoking the law to expel him, the minister told him to stay in the pub and not wander off.

"..."

Harry gathered his thoughts, tidied up the scattered books and letters on the table, saw the blank consent form, paused for a moment, and then tucked it into his history of magic textbook.

As the sun gradually rose, the sky changed from iron gray to a brilliant purplish-red. The morning light slanted in through the window, illuminating the entire room. There were still embers left in the fireplace, suitcases stuffed in the wardrobe, several pieces of gleaming oak furniture, and a bed that looked very comfortable.

The rooms at Leaky Cauldron are great, clean, tidy, and comfortable, unlike the bar lobby downstairs.

Harry folded the blankets and went downstairs for breakfast.

He loved the pub; the butterbeer was free, the movie screens were free, and the various exciting sports games were a real treat. The patrons chatted about all sorts of interesting stories, and he met many interesting guests.

Living in Diagon Alley was quite comfortable.

Along this long street paved with lions are some of the world's most fascinating magical shops. He discusses novel magical items, such as the Moon Mirror or the Firebolt, with the diners in the café. They also discuss the Sirius Black escape case. Occasionally, they encounter less friendly people, usually those who have just come from Knockturn Alley next door.

The owner of Florin's Ice Cream Shop was friendly and knowledgeable, helping Harry with his paper assignments and offering a free box of ice cream every half hour.

The goods in the shop windows were so tempting. Not to mention the glittering fire arrows and the beautiful gold-plated stones, even the glass constellation models exuded charm at all times.

He had to constantly restrain his impulse to buy, reminding himself that he still had five years left at Hogwarts, and he didn't know how long the inheritance in the vault would last. If he spent it all in advance, he would have to ask his aunt and uncle for money to buy textbooks later.

He would rather sell his soul to the devil.

With that in mind, Harry arrived at Flourish and Blotts and, following the instructions on the back-to-school checklist, purchased items for the next term.

Intermediate Transfiguration

Standard Spells III

Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense III

There are also textbooks for elective courses, but Hagrid has already sent "The Monster Book of Monsters" as a birthday present. The textbooks for Muggle elective courses will be distributed after the start of the semester, leaving only "Seeing the Future Through the Fog" for the Prophecy course.

Carrying his heavy new book, Harry hurried back to the Leaky Cauldron. Just as he was about to go upstairs, he suddenly noticed Old Tom standing behind the counter, chatting with a young customer.

Because of the Death Eater Black's escape, the Aurors frequently patrolled Diagon Alley, always stopping strangers to question their identities. The tavern had little business in the morning, with no customers, so the tavern owner became lazy, always leaving the waiters to watch the shop until evening.

At that moment, bubbles floated in the beer glass. The young professor sitting at the counter took a sip, seemingly missing the taste. The pub owner in front of him looked smug, finally not bothering about the bar's hygiene.

"Borging and Wright have come up with something new again?" Melvin asked, having just returned to London. "I heard they're selling Shadow Mirrors at high prices to other regions through Knockturn Alley. The Ministry of Magic in those areas hasn't approved Shadow Mirrors yet. Let's make sure they don't turn them into contraband."

"Just like the flying carpets in India, right?"

Old Tom chuckled and said, "The Indian wizard wanted to export the flying carpet to Diagon Alley to sell, doing business without following the rules. As a result, he was ostracized by several pure-blood families and listed as a prohibited item, which was banned from sale."

Melvin nodded, picked up his beer from the table, and took a sip. "Tell them to watch out."

"Don't worry, the Shadow Mirror is no longer news. Everyone is paying attention to Blake."

Old Tom finally caught up with a guest who had just arrived in London, and they got into a conversation. "How did Black escape from Azkaban? That's Azkaban, you know. You even wrote a paper criticizing their system, saying that they treated prisoners like livestock."

“They are not livestock; the Dementors are the livestock that are being raised, and the prisoners are just the feed for the livestock.”

Old Tom looked surprised, then asked in a low voice, "You've visited Azkaban. Tell me, how did this guy without a wand manage to break through the Dementors' heavy defenses?"

"How he escaped is no longer important; what matters is his purpose in escaping, don't you think..."

Melvin turned his head and looked at the student who was quietly approaching. "Harry."

(End of this chapter)