Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 247 I Don't Eat Dog Meat

The entire mountain range was shrouded in rain, and the cold mist dissipated. The Dementors' senses were at their best in this weather, and they detected their presence almost the instant the Thestrals flapped their wings.

The young professor arrived on a Thestral, while the Dementors remained suspended in mid-air, waiting quietly.

Melvin slowly came to a stop. He gripped the reins connecting the Thestral, its scaly wings flapping in the downpour. His gaze caught sight of a figure standing beside the railway tracks, and his expression suddenly turned somewhat strange.

A skinny black dog, the follower on this trip back to school.

Despite being surprised by Sirius Black's appearance, Melvin did not abandon his plan to capture the Dementors; after all, a fugitive was unlikely to report him to the Ministry of Magic.

He rode the Thestral closer.

The Dementor sensed the hostility and felt a surge of anger. Having just been repelled on the train and unable to enjoy a whole carriage full of delicious food, it was now being provoked by the wizard. All it wanted was to give this suicidal wizard a fatal kiss.

The dark gray monster raised its head, a hissing sound coming from its throat, and the cold mist emanating from its body dissipated, enveloping it with a soul-stirring suction force.

Before the Dementors could even savor their pleasure, a burst of brilliant silver light suddenly shone forth, like lightning piercing through dark clouds, or like the silver moon illuminating the impenetrable darkness, instantly turning the entire world bright and clear.

The guardian's dazzling radiance instantly illuminated half of the mountain as bright as day, filling every inch of space with silver light. The guardian, like a giant serpent of the mortal world, coiled its lower body, slightly bowed its head, and looked down from above. Its round silver light, like a full moon, began to continuously radiate immense power.

The Dementor floating in the mist was so horrified that it stopped thinking. Reason and instinct were both issuing warnings, but its body was firmly imprisoned in place. The cloak, constructed of foreign magic, fluttered in the wind, and the worn strips of cloth at the edges of the sleeves and hem shook violently, as if they were about to tear apart.

The gale billowed the hood, revealing half of the corpse-like face. The skull had sunken eye sockets, and there were only two thin holes where the nose should be. There were no teeth or lips or tongue, but it looked more like a mouth. A tube connected the throat to the chest, like the rubber hose of a vacuum cleaner.

The silver light shone on the Dementor, and the murky mist in its eye sockets instantly boiled, as if ice water had been thrown into lava. The gray-white cold mist surrounding it surged continuously, reflecting the silver light that was spread out in the outside world.

Melvin gently shook his right hand, which was holding the wand.

The overwhelming silver light suddenly contracted, the condensed light becoming dazzlingly bright. The silver moon transformed into a blazing sun, and the Dementors, immune to ordinary spells, had nowhere to escape. Gray mist continuously evaporated from their mouths and nostrils, their chests rapidly caved in, and gas rushed out of their mouthparts, emitting a sound that was almost a wail.

The sound of rain and mist evaporating and hissing filled the air.

Sirius, watching the almost miraculous magic in mid-air, suddenly recalled a Muggle movie he had once seen, where vampires imagined by Muggles were exposed to the scorching summer sun, their flesh and blood ignited, like excellent fuel, and gradually burned to ashes.

In his mind, Dementors were immortal monsters, like vampires, but faced with such magic, those dark creatures born of despair seemed exceptionally vulnerable.

The torrential rain continued to pour down relentlessly. The Dementor struggled to hold on under the Patronus Charm, and just as its consciousness was about to fade, it suddenly noticed that the flames sealing off its surroundings seemed to have a gap, and a cool and comfortable aura emanated from below.

Driven by the instinct for survival, the mangled body crawled through the trap almost without thinking, like a mouse scurrying into a pre-arranged snare.

The suitcase lid closed, the silver light dissipated, and the space fell silent.

The scattered dark clouds gathered, and the rain intensified due to the tremors. The downpour washed away the traces of the sky and earth. The express train, which had been shut down, had started up again at some point and had already left the mountains, officially entering the Scottish Highlands.

Melvin carefully examined the area, confirming that there was no Dementor presence in the nearby hills or mid-air, and his magical senses could not detect any trace of them. He then pulled on the Thestral's reins and landed beside the track.

The black dog stood there calmly, its fur soaked, looking like a drowned rat, yet it still watched the young wizard approach with complete composure.

He seemed oblivious to the dazzling magic just now, after all, he was playing the role of an ordinary hound without magic power, whose vision was already very poor, so he couldn't see the Dementors or the overwhelming silver light just now.

As the other dismounted, the scaled Thestral leisurely trotted its hooves, and the young wizard, a faint smile playing on his lips, slowly approached him.

Because he had been chasing the train all the way, his clothes were soaked with rain, and his breath was hot from his mouth and nose. Combined with his thin ribs and back, he looked disheveled and pitiful. It reminded me of this dog that swam across the North Sea, wandered all the way to London, escorted Harry from Privet Drive to Diagon Alley, and then chased the express train all the way to Hogsmeade...

Melvin suddenly felt a sense of admiration for his perseverance.

“You’re just as determined as Andy Dufresne.” Melvin stopped a dozen feet in front of the black dog, looking at the greyhound, a mischievous thought suddenly popping into his head. “Such a strong and sturdy dog ​​would make a really delicious soup.”

This is a perverted wizard who eats dog meat!
Sirius's eyes widened suddenly, a strong sense of panic rising within him, and he immediately tried to remove his Animagus disguise.

Whether I'm exposed or not is no longer important; my life is more important than being caught!
But before he could react, Melvin's wand in his right hand emitted a beam of white light, which instantly entered the black dog's body.

"It happened!"

The Stunning Curse dulled Sirius's mind, and the last thing he saw was the Thestral's fangs and the young wizard's strange laugh before he lost consciousness in a fit of intense panic.

Melvin looked down at the black dog lying on the ground. Its fur was sparse and bald in some places. Rainwater seeped into the roots of the dog's fur and dripped down the fur, turning into muddy water.

Melvin shook his head. He didn't plan to Apparate with the black dog, which hadn't been bathed for years or even decades. After spending half a month in the sea and then wandering the city for a month, Melvin realized he had no intention of taking the black dog with him.

Melvin pulled out a piece of dragon meat from somewhere, fed it to the Thestral, and patted its head.
"Take this dog to Hogsmeade for me. Just drop it off in some secluded alley, then go back to Diagon Alley yourself, understand?"

The Thestral swallowed its meat, lowered its head, rubbed against his arm, and let out a low, gentle hiss.

Melvin rubbed its head: "Don't worry, I'll Apparate there myself."

Thestral was relieved. It trotted up to the black dog, lowered its head to hold the taut scruff of its neck, shook it a couple of times as if it were a chick, and then spread its wings and flew towards Hogsmeade.

Sweet dreams, Sirius Black.

Melvin watched them leave, smiled slightly, and with a tremor in the air, his figure disappeared into the world.

……

"Huh...huh..."

Someone exhaled hot, moist breath from behind.

There seemed to be a tingling pain, as if something sharp was tearing and rubbing against the back of my neck.

According to Muggle science, a vague consciousness weaves bodily sensations into dreams, and Sirius is currently experiencing this process, only this dream is not pleasant.

The hot, humid breath was the drool of a ferocious beast; the teeth of a Thestral were tearing at his neck; and the young wizard's knife and fork were also present. He felt himself being roasted and torn apart; his skin and flesh had been ripped open, and the little muscle he had left was being devoured.

"Huh...huh..."

His hot, humid breaths slowed, and the pain lessened, as if he were eating at a slower pace. A more intense panic gripped him; the figure had gone to add fuel to the fire. After escaping Azkaban with great difficulty and returning to Harry's side, he had thought he could expose Wormtail's true nature and avenge James and Lily, only to become food on the dinner table.

"Clap clap clap..."

A moist, warm sensation came from my face, like being brushed with oil and honey during a roasting process. Occasionally, there was a fishy, ​​foul smell, I didn't know if it was my own or some strange spice.

"No, I can't just be eaten like this! Wormtail is still lurking, Harry is waiting for me to save him!" He suddenly snapped out of his daze.

The black dog huddled in the dim light. The downpour had stopped, and its wet fur had dried, leaving only its face and the back of its neck exposed. The Thestral came into view, standing in front of it with its wings folded, looking down at its condition.

"Where is that wizard?"

Sirius immediately looked around. The soft light illuminated his eyes, and he realized that he was lying in front of an old roadside shop. A tattered wooden sign hung on the door, depicting a severed pig's head, with bloodstains soaking through the white cloth.

"Pig Head Bar?"

Sirius stared blankly at the bar sign, his eyes already brimming with tears.

……

At dusk, at Hogwarts.

This was the most magnificent time in the Great Hall, apart from the Christmas dinner. It was brightly lit and decorated with colorful ribbons. Melvin knew that these were probably leftover materials from the warehouse, because Professor McGonagall liked to take stock of supplies before the start of the semester. This was a low-cost way to make the Great Hall dazzling.

As a professor who had been teaching for two years, Melvin returned to school rather late, and when he entered the auditorium, he was met with silent condemnation from his colleagues who stared at him with wide eyes.

He was just an elective course professor, not a dean with significant responsibilities.

Melvin could only plead in his heart, apologizing verbally as he sat down in the side seat next to the head of the table.

Dumbledore and the four deans were all there, as were the other elective course professors. Based on past experience, the express train would arrive in about half an hour.

“Melvin, congratulations on receiving the Medal of Valor. We’ve all heard about your adventures in Paris…”

Professor Flitwick spoke first, followed by the other professors who offered their congratulations. Everyone seemed to know the details of the Paris events, as if the Parisian wizarding newspapers were distributed worldwide.

Melvin put down the box he was carrying and smiled helplessly: "I just happened to run into a dark wizard."

After dealing with his colleagues' teasing, the conversation gradually returned to normal topics. The professors who had traveled talked about their summer experiences, with their trip to the Yucatan Peninsula in ancient times, such as Niven Babuling, being particularly exciting. Melvin listened while observing the school and colleagues he hadn't seen for two months.

Everything seemed unchanged; everyone was still the same. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall did not participate in the idle chatter but instead huddled together to discuss school affairs in hushed tones. Occasionally, the words "Dementors" and "fugitives" could be heard.

Hagrid, who is usually carefree, seemed a little reserved. He wasn't wearing his mole fur coat today, but had carefully chosen a dark blue peak lapel tuxedo and combed his messy beard and hair.

Flitwick and Sprout, standing nearby, couldn't help but chuckle: "You look really good, Hagrid."

"Oh, thank you. It's the first day of school, and I want to dress formally to make a good impression on the students."

Hagrid was so excited that he almost overturned the table and chairs when he stood up. His face immediately turned hot. "The children should be here by now. I have to go to the platform to welcome the new students."

"Ha ha……"

……

"Harry! Harry! Are you alright?" Someone was patting his face.

"What? What's wrong?"

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. The carriage shook slightly, the lights came back on, the train returned to normal, and his friends surrounded him. The crisis was over.

Harry felt a bit unwell. He let out a breath and, after relaxing his guard, realized that he was weak all over, and his forehead and back felt cold, as if he had broken out in a fine layer of cold sweat.

Harry shrugged, his breathing trembling slightly.

"Have some chocolate, it'll make you feel better." Professor Lupin broke open a bar of chocolate and handed the largest piece to Harry.

Harry silently ate the chocolate, a warm current flowing through his body, the weakness and chill subsiding. Recalling his memories before he fainted, he asked, somewhat speechless, "Just now... what... what was that?"

"Dementors, the guardians of Azkaban."

Professor Lupin distributed the remaining chocolates to the other students. "It must have been a patrol searching for fugitives who spotted the express train in the pouring rain..."

He frowned slightly, crumpled the wrapping paper into a ball and stuffed it into his pocket, then turned and walked out of the carriage: "I'm going to talk to the driver to avoid any more trouble on the rest of the journey. You all stay in the carriage and don't wander around."

Harry watched his figure disappear down the corridor, feeling that the name sounded familiar. As he frowned and pondered, he suddenly remembered that Professor Levent had mentioned this name before; he was a good friend of his father.

Recalling the patches on his clothes, Harry scratched his head and sighed, "Can anyone tell me what just happened?"

“I think you passed out. We saw you stiffen up, fall off your seat, and then start convulsing, and it sounded like you were screaming…” Ron’s expression was still a little frightened, but he was very fluent in recounting his good brother’s secrets, and he described the details very clearly. “Then Professor Lupin taught the Dementors a lesson.”

Ginny and Neville were also in the room. Harry suddenly felt a little embarrassed: "Were there any other people unconscious in the car?"

“No, not a single one.” Ron was very decisive.

“Don’t overthink it, Harry,” Hermione explained in a low voice. “Those are Dementors. They are very dangerous dark creatures that cannot be killed or destroyed. Ordinary magic doesn’t work on them; only the Patronus Charm can deal with them.”

"Guardian Angel Spell?"

Harry heard the familiar name again, and Professor Levent's handsome and mysterious face appeared before his eyes. He rubbed his temples in distress.

This school year hasn't even started yet, and it already seems destined to be anything but peaceful.

(End of this chapter)