Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 241 The Child Who Ran Away from Home

Late at night, on the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron bar, a brass plaque on the door of room number 13 indicated that the number was not very auspicious.

The other rooms contain a witch who has come from the countryside to make purchases, a transfiguration scholar who seems impulsive and easily angered, a noisy dwarf, and a young professor who just checked in today.

The brick walls are covered with patterned wallpaper, providing excellent sound insulation. The corridor is quiet, with only the occasional sound of cars honking outside. The neighbors can be heard washing up and moving around without making a sound.

The room layout was basically the same: a comfortable and tidy-looking bed, a few pieces of polished oak furniture, a simple wardrobe and desk, and the firewood in the fireplace crackling. It wasn't winter yet, so the flames weren't very strong, just enough to dispel the fog that rose at night.

In the dimly lit room, a young snake slithered across a long cherry wood table. As its tail tapped against the light switch, the green-shaded lamp turned on, illuminating half of the room.

Soft light diffused from the lampshade, falling on the chair and casting a faint glow on the young professor's face. He had handsome features and mysterious, deep black eyes. His slender fingers manipulated the medicine in the porcelain bottle, dripping only a drop or two into an exquisite gold cup.

A misty white fog rose, and the shadow of a wizard appeared on the golden cup. The semi-transparent, illusory figure shimmered with a faint light and had no expression.

“Tom, my friend, we’re back in London,” Melvin said softly, a smile on his face, as if old friends were reuniting.

Riddle stared into his eyes and said coldly, "Your Legilimency won't work on Horcruxes. This figure is just a reflection of memories. Don't waste your time."

“I have no intention of probing your memories or secrets. That day was just your imagination. As we've discussed, the magic of the Golden Cup and the Horcrux clashed.” Melvin explained patiently, looking up at the eyes that had been modified by dark magic. The pupils were slightly slanted, resembling the beginnings of snake eyes, but had not yet turned scarlet.

Riddle met his gaze with the image projected from his memory, but couldn't see through the young wizard's thoughts. Many Horcruxes have the ability to probe desires, and diaries can also tempt people to reveal their hearts, but none are as direct as Legilimency. However, his body has been destroyed, so he can no longer use Horcruxes to spy on him.

Melvin gently stroked Yulm's scales, gesturing for it to go play aside; he needed to discuss something with his old friend.

“I knew you were a dangerous wizard the first time we met, Melvin. Your greedy ambition practically shines through your eyes, just like mine when I was young.” Riddle watched the young snake crawl along the long table toward the wardrobe, slithering about.

After revealing himself that night, he tried to manipulate the young snake with Parseltongue. This was the first time he remembered Parseltongue failing. From that moment on, he knew that this young wizard was troublesome, just as difficult to control as the snake.

“The Dark Lord is very good at exploiting other people’s greed to achieve his own goals. Our previous cooperation was very pleasant.” Melvin was very patient. “Professor Gaunt, I can assure you that you are the most popular teaching assistant at Hogwarts. A new professor will be joining us this semester, but you will still have the opportunity to continue teaching and investigating the secrets of Harry Potter’s origins.”

Riddle paused for a few seconds: "I've always been cautious about things beyond my control, and I don't want to continue playing this game of lies."

“I can promise you that I will never use magic to discover your secrets,” Melvin said patiently.

“Promises are meant to be broken from the very beginning. Even the most unbreakable oaths, even blood oaths forged with lives, can be circumvented. I never trust anyone, because that’s the kind of wizard I am.” Riddle’s words left no room for negotiation.

"What about the exchange of benefits? Just treat it as doing business."

Riddle's eyes flickered, seemingly tempted, and he remained silent for a few seconds before asking, "What kind of deal do you want?"

"I'd like to ask you some questions. I'd like to capture a few Dementors for research, but there's no information in the available materials about raising, communicating with, or controlling them..."

Melvin found it very interesting that the Ministry of Magic was able to raise and control Dementors because the Aurors of the past used the Patronus Charm to create them. Wizards like Voldemort certainly couldn't use the Patronus Charm, and conventional magic was ineffective against Dementors.

He asked curiously, "They used to obey the Dark Lord's commands. I want to know how they did it."

"It's nothing, you can do it too..."

Riddle gave a sinister smile. He understood that Melvin was implying that he couldn't master the Patronus Charm, but he didn't care. "Pain and fear are the most effective means of enslavement."

"What do you mean by the Dementors' pain and fear?" Melvin asked thoughtfully.

"Regular magic doesn't work on Dementors, but the Killing Curse does."

"Aren't they impossible to eradicate?"

“Young Melvin, although you have mastered some power, your knowledge is too shallow. You do not know what a great achievement it is to defeat death. Since the birth of magic, only I have truly conquered death.”

Riddle took a deep breath, his words filled with pride, "Those Dementors are just deformed beings born of despair. They have physical bodies, fear Patronus Charms, and can feel pain. They are special, but still fragile."

"Dementors can be killed by the Killing Curse?" Melvin frowned; this contradicted the information he had read.

“No, they have no indestructible bodies, nor souls that can be killed.” Riddle spread out his right hand, which was shimmering with an eerie green light. “But precisely because of this, they can perceive pain and fear more clearly.”

Like ghosts, Dementors do not conform to the definition of normal life and are therefore immune to many forms of magic. However, if a cold and resolute soul like Voldemort, with undisguised cruelty and malice, were to cast the Killing Curse, it might actually have an effect on a Dementor.

Melvin's heart skipped a beat, and he lowered his head in thought, while the wall clock ticked.

His dark magic is almost always activated with the magic of unicorn blessings, and he never cares about the malice when casting spells. It is difficult to determine whether the killing curse he releases will work on strange creatures like Dementors.

After a few minutes of silence, Melvin asked again, "So how do you communicate with the Dementors, command them, and give them orders?"

“Business is a two-way street, Melvin. My goods have already begun delivery. You should pay a deposit before the rest of the transaction can proceed.”

"What do you want?" Melvin shrugged, behaving like an honest businessman. "To gather information on Dumbledore, to assemble the Death Eaters who escaped trial, or to kill Harry Potter during the summer holidays? By the way, he lives next door."

Riddle suddenly turned to look at the wall, then shook his head: "No, the nemesis destined by fate must be killed by one's own hands. I want you to help me break free from the Golden Cup and obtain a brand new body."

"What about the main soul that's wandering outside? If you want to get rid of him and become Voldemort, what if he successfully resurrects in the future?"

"Don't try to confuse me about myself. He and I are both Voldemort, but there can only be one Voldemort in the world. The answer will come in time."

"Okay, my business partner, what do you need me to do?"

“Choose a young, strong male wizard, marinate him in my corrupted Golden Cup potion, and use the same steps as making an Infernal to place the Golden Cup on his face so that I can absorb his soul and reshape his flesh and blood body.”

Riddle looked at his translucent hands. "If all goes well, after bathing in the starlight of six full moons, I will be able to return to the world." Melvin paused for a moment, lost in thought. Although he was looking forward to the Voldemort Tournament, he found it hard to bring himself to murder a young and strong wizard without any prior grudge.

He couldn't help but sigh: "If you hadn't said so earlier, the Purgers we met in Paris would have been perfect. It's a pity we missed out now."

Riddle frowned slightly; his business partner didn't seem to want to help him resurrect.

“I can give you everything you want: Melvin, power, wealth, the true meaning of magic, even the secret of immortality,” he earnestly advised. “If you find it difficult to deal with ordinary wizards, there are also the dark wizards of Knockturn Alley, the offspring of pure-blood families, and the despicable bureaucrats of the Ministry of Magic, who deserve to die.”

Melvin did have some ideas: find a criminal dark wizard to fool Riddle, like Wormtail or Old Goyle.

However, Wormtail will also be involved in this year's big show. The pure-blood family wants to use it to develop the Shadow Mirror. Fudge of the Ministry of Magic is not guilty of a capital offense, so he has no qualms about taking action against the pink toad. However, Voldemort probably wouldn't be willing to do so.

Melvin sighed softly, "Tom, I guess I'm going to become a heartless businessman."

Riddle lowered his head, about to say something, when he met Melvin's dark, deep eyes. A swirling gray mist overflowed from his pupils, instantly filling his entire eye, and the whites of his eyes turned a desolate light gray.

He stood there, stunned, his eyes unfocused, and remained silent.

The wall clock ticked away, time passing by second by second.

The alienated magic spread along his memories, reaching deep into his remnant soul. In a daze, he recalled the feeling of being ostracized in his childhood. Those weak creatures, like ants swarming together to shun and despise the giant python, would whisper behind his back every time he turned away, their noise annoying him.

Back then, he would always look out the windows of the orphanage's bedrooms, hoping to brick those people into the walls, to take away their cherished possessions, to strip them of their happy memories, and to make them lose consciousness in pain, like a Dementor.

Melvin's consciousness was about to extend deeper into the Dementors, but Riddle was, after all, the most powerful dark wizard in history. The moment his childhood memories surfaced, he realized it was an invasion. His remnant soul trembled violently, and the illusory figure vanished instantly.

The golden cup shook violently on the table, trembled a few times, and then spilled onto the parchment.

"Wang?"

Yulm, who was curled up on top of the wardrobe, peeked out and asked in a soft voice.

"Sigh, it's nothing..." Melvin righted the overturned gold cup, wiped away the remaining developing solution, and sighed regretfully, "It's just that the reputation I've built up has collapsed, and I can't continue doing business."

"Wang~"

"If I can't continue, I can't continue. He can't let it get out and ruin my reputation."

Melvin paused on the golden cup. His casual conversation with the baby snake suddenly reminded him of something, and his eyes brightened. "If the business with the golden cup soul weapon can't continue, there are other soul weapons."

The diary fooled them, the crown is with the principal, the Golden Cup has lost its credibility, and now all that's left are the locket and the Gaunt ring.

The locket is in Black's old house, and it would be quite troublesome to get it over there.

The Gaunt ring is in the old Gaunt house, unattended.

Melvin beckoned and took Yulm down, stroking the scales on its head: "Get some rest, we're going to Hangton tomorrow."

"Wang?"

Yulm tilted his head, his dark snake eyes gleaming.

Meanwhile, in room eleven next door, Harry was writing a letter to Privet Drive under a lamp. He had been thinking for a long time but still didn't know what to say. His words were slow and deliberate, making it even harder to write than a thesis on the history of magic.

Hedwig used to go out for a stroll at night and hunt, but because of this unfinished letter, she stayed by the window, initially preening her feathers leisurely, but gradually became impatient.

It paced back and forth, flapped its wings, and occasionally cooed a few words to urge them on.

As night deepened, Harry still didn't know how to write a letter home. He had never written one at Hogwarts, nor had he even considered it. He tried to imitate Ron's letters, wanting to talk about his recent situation, complain about the troubles he had encountered, and pour out his heart's troubles, but he had to tear up a sheet of paper every two sentences and just couldn't continue writing.

Should he apologize for what happened to Aunt Maggie? Should he explain that his anger stemmed from her insulting his parents?

In the end, he chose not to mention the night he ran away from home, and simply gave a brief account of his current situation, like a news report.

"...I'm staying in Diagon Alley for now, everything is fine. I'll be heading straight to Hogwarts after the start of the semester."

Enclosed with the letter is a consent form for weekend activities. After signing it in the guardian section, give it to Hedwig and send it back.

There's no need to feed Hedwig; I've already put some reserve food in her pack.

Will his aunt and uncle sign this consent form? Are they still bothered by Aunt Maggie's matter? They probably wish he would never go back to the Dursleys... Why should he believe Professor Levente when Black's matter is more important?

Harry's mind was in turmoil. He was actually very concerned about Black. Behind the surging hatred was also the worry about his own safety. If he was being targeted by a dark wizard fugitive, could he still safely take the express train back to Hogwarts?

Next to Diagon Alley is Knockdown Alley, which is the hideout of dark wizards.

The streetlights on Privet Road in Xiaohuijin District should still be on now. Is my fat cousin Dali sneaking up to rummage through the refrigerator and stuffing donuts and cakes into his mouth?
He still remembers the night he impulsively left the Dursleys' house, not knowing where to go or where to stay, like a stray cat in a park, chased away by naughty children and forced to hide behind a trash can.

Harry packed the envelope, then put a few dried white mice into Hedwig's bundle, and gently sniffed their feathers: "It's good that you're here with me."

A snowy owl with white feathers fluttered its wings and disappeared into the night sky over Diagon Alley.

(End of this chapter)