Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 249 How could Snape be so wicked?
Late at night, in the office of the Muggle Studies Professor.

A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, three white porcelain teacups, a living person, a phantom image, and a young snake joining in the fun. The three of them sit around a walnut wood desk under the soft light.

The evening breeze made the window frame tremble slightly, and raindrops tapped on the glass, the rhythmic patter echoing the clock on the wall, creating a somewhat eerie atmosphere. Wisps of white steam rose from the porcelain cup, adding a touch of mystery to the office and making the contents of the briefcase seem even stranger.

Sixteen-year-old Riddle sniffed the tea: "It's quite unexpected that Hogwarts invited me to the Late Night Tea Party, and the rare Dementors I mentioned last night are here tonight."

"As the Dark Lord's most steadfast and reliable ally, do you think I am the kind of sinister wizard who stalls for time and extracts information from your memories for personal gain? I am here to break through Azkaban and rescue your loyal servants, and I happen to be interested in Dementor magic."

Melvin picked up his porcelain cup, took a sip, and poured his heart out to sixteen-year-old Riddle, "If you can help me find a way to control the Dementors and rescue those loyal servants as soon as possible, the time for the Dark Lord to return will not be far off."

“Rather than searching for the missing… I’d rather place my hopes on myself.” Riddle’s eyes flickered as he secretly observed Melvin’s expression.

"hiss……"

Yulm was clearly also interested in the prey, wriggling and sticking out his tongue as he lay on the table.

Melvin took a black briefcase from under his desk and placed it on the table. It was rather small, with a copper body and a black leather exterior. The corners were reinforced with metal parts, and the label on it proved that it was a closed briefcase produced by Magic Zoo.

Completely isolated from magical fluctuations and smells, they traveled all the way through the Scottish Highlands to Hogwarts without any other Dementors noticing anything amiss.

Melvin knew exactly what was inside, but he couldn't sense any magical fluctuations; it seemed like an ordinary briefcase.

He took out a brass key, inserted it into the top lock, and turned it once. A faint sound of gears turning and opening came from inside the box. The sealed box popped open a crack, and cold mist flowed along the crack, making it seem as if the office had been plunged into a snowy night.

Melvin opened the lid of the box and whispered, "Dementor."

Riddell had only studied them from afar before, and Jolm had never seen them before. Infected by the atmosphere in the office, they all craned their necks to take a closer look.

The box only emitted cold mist, like a dry ice prop used in stage performances. It was cool and beautiful, but not very useful.

"Come out and show yourself," Melvin said, tapping lightly on the lid of the box with his slanted fingers.

The noise from the outside startled the Dementors inside. With an even colder mist, a figure floated out of the box, wearing a tattered cloak, its ashen face hidden under the hood, its skin wrinkled, emitting a slightly rotten and fishy smell, and accompanied by faint howls, like a demon returned from hell.

Riddle reached out and touched one of them, a phantom body constructed from memory-enhancing agents, and the other a special entity constructed from alien magic. The two passed each other, only slightly pausing upon contact.

"They resemble ghosts in appearance and are said to absorb souls and happy memories. They are immortal, but when their living environment does not meet the conditions for reproduction, their population will spontaneously control itself to a certain limit."

The green light emanating from Riddle's fingertips was merely an illusion, lacking any magic that could affect Dementors.

“It looks like a scarecrow by the sea. It’s said that fishermen and farmers in coastal villages also set up similar scarecrow figures to scare away birds and protect their drying grounds,” Melvin observed quietly.

"call……"

The Dementor seemed to have been cooped up in the box for too long, and was in a daze, not responding to the sounds from the outside world.

As Yorm approached, the Dementor suddenly awoke, letting out a shrill, low roar. The temperature in the room plummeted instantly, and a layer of frost even formed on the outside of the white porcelain teacup.

Dementors do not rely on sight to identify living things, but rather on their almost magical sense of smell. There are baby snakes and foul-smelling fragments of souls in this room, but only the living things directly in front of them emit an enticing fragrance.

After all, it was just an incomplete creature born of despair, with almost no memory and a flawed instinct to seek advantage and avoid harm. In just a few hours, it had already forgotten the pain of being arrested during the day.

The Dementor took a deep breath and immediately locked onto Melvin's location. Its gray hands, hidden in its cloak, stretched forward, and the sound of its breathing filled the room. The air seemed to move subtly, and a strange magic enveloped Melvin, attempting to draw something from him.

Melvin frowned slightly. Instead of immediately summoning the Patronus, he attempted to try the method Riddle had described for controlling the Dementors, but to little avail.

[Heart-wrenching]

[Soul leaving body]

Two Unforgivable Curses pierced the Dementor's body, only slightly slowing its movements. The Heart-Slicing Curse and the Imperishable Curse had no effect, and the impact of the curses failed to repel the Dementor.

The roaring monster became even more arrogant, even bringing its putrid mouthparts close to the professor's eyes.

Melvin's eyes narrowed, and a burst of silver light shot out. The powerful impact instantly sent the Dementor flying, crashing into the wall and causing the crystal chandelier on the ceiling to sway slightly.

As the Dementor was about to flee, it suddenly discovered that the entire room had been sealed off by silver light. It had become a cage constructed by the guardian light, and it was trapped in place, almost unable to move.

“If the malice is not pure enough, to cast the Unforgivable Curse, one must be determined to commit an unforgivable crime, to make the enemy wail in agony, to make them remember it for eternity. Even the kindest wizard or ascetic would not forgive such suffering until death.”

Riddle shook his head. "If you can still use the Patronus Charm, then you can't unleash the full power of the Unforgivable Charm."

Melvin wore a thoughtful expression, then waved his wand again, unleashing one last forbidden black spell. A flash of green light disappeared into the Dementor's abdomen, causing the monster to let out a painful roar, but that was all.

“The Killing Curse doesn’t cause pain to the enemy; it should kill them without them even realizing it,” Riddle muttered again. Considering his talent in the dark arts, these comments made a lot of sense, but Melvin couldn’t grasp them in a short time.

Yulm stared wide-eyed as he watched three demonstrations of forbidden black magic, each one implying a crime punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban.

At this moment, the Dementor is bound by the protective silver light, and the professor's office seems to have turned into a magnificent church. The monster is a demon awaiting judgment, and the power currently in its grasp is insufficient to punish it.

"These monsters were originally bred by the evil dark wizard Extis on a remote island in the North Sea. He built a gloomy and enclosed fortress on the island, constantly luring Muggle sailors and nearby fishermen to the island, where he inflicted unimaginable torture, causing them to die in despair and agony. The pain twisted the souls of those poor souls, and the despair brewed evil magic, from which the Dementors were born."

Melvin tapped the table lightly as he recounted information about Dementors, “In a sense, the birth of these creatures is similar to that of the Obscurials. I even suspect that among the refugees who were tortured to death were young wizards whose unstable and malleable magical transformations gave birth to these things.”

“But I think Extis transformed into a Dementor,” Riddle offered a completely different conjecture. “Immune to most magic, immune to physical attacks, freed from a heavy, weak body, immortal, growing stronger by absorbing the joy and souls of others—it’s practically another shortcut to conquering death.” Melvin actually found it somewhat plausible: “He also pursued immortality, and ultimately failed?”

“This is just my guess,” Riddle said softly. “Perhaps he succeeded, but something went wrong. Dementors absorb the memories and souls of others; they have no intelligence or independent consciousness. These inferior creatures rely solely on instinct to reproduce and survive. His consciousness was extinguished in the conflict between the external memories and his wild drive.”

The office fell silent, with only the ticking of the clock remaining.

“True power is not just about magic, but about defeating death and remaining clear-headed throughout a long life, Melvin. When I return from the shadow of death, I can share the secret of immortality with you.”

Riddell seized the opportunity to manipulate.

Melvin simply nodded: "Of course, aren't we working on that? I'm going to try Legilimency to communicate with Dementors."

Riddle gave him a deep look and said nothing more.

A gentle breeze lifted the hood of the cloak, revealing the face of the Dementor. It resembled a crudely made rag doll, or a bloated and rotting corpse that had been soaking in water. Its eyes were sunken, with no visible outline of the eyeballs, only two faint gray mists. It had no nose, only two thin, long holes, and its mouth was connected to a mandible that looked like a hollowed-out pipe.

Using the gaze as a medium, Seeking Thought connects the two magical forces. The wizard's consciousness probes into the Dementor's brain, which is empty and whose soul is lighter than a feather, almost non-existent.

A grayish-white mist appeared deep in its eye sockets, like its empty soul, and a faint but strange magic was infusing the wizard's consciousness into its body.

Melvin frowned slightly. He actually found it somewhat difficult. It wasn't the grasping of thoughts that was difficult, but rather the difficulty in understanding, controlling, and communicating with the empty souls of Dementors. It felt like a university professor instructing a child with intellectual disabilities.

It's difficult to make the other party understand ideas that go far beyond one's own limitations.

“Now recall the feeling of the Imperius Curse, and communicate your consciousness to it,” Riddle said. “Don’t give overly detailed instructions, don’t try to manipulate its body, command it like you would an Inferno! Only give commands like attack, defend, and leave.”

Melvin abandoned commands like left and right, only transmitting the attack order, and released the Guardian Charm.

The Dementor was momentarily stunned, then let out another fierce hiss from its throat and charged toward the only living creature in the office. Before it could get close, it was repelled by the silver light.

Pounce, repel...

This process was repeated several times before the Dementor seemed to completely abandon the influence of the command and realize that this wizard was not someone it could mess with.

Melvin rubbed his temples.

Good news, I can command the Dementor now; bad news, this Dementor is incredibly stupid.

It's unclear whether all Dementors are like this, or if this is just an isolated case.

……

Breakfast time, school auditorium.

With the help of the college deans, the four deans distributed paper timetables. Professor McGonagall walked among the college tables and said, “You can see the location of the corresponding courses on the timetable. Freshmen, please arrive at the classroom 15 minutes in advance. Third-year students taking elective courses, if you are not familiar with the stairs, please also leave early. I hope you will not be late and will not be the first person to lose points in the new academic year.”

Then she called over a few fifth-grade students and explained the precautions for the advanced class.

"Divination, arithmetic divination, ancient practices such as Neon, transfiguration, and the protection of magical creatures..."

Hermione looked at the timetable carefully; it was packed full. While other students in the same grade had time to rest and catch their breath, she not only couldn't rest, but also had to take three classes at the same time during her morning elective class period.

In previous years, Muggle Studies was also an elective course, but it has now become a mandatory course for all students. Moreover, Professor Levent was unwilling to teach in separate classes, so Professor McGonagall made adjustments and allocated separate class time for Muggle Studies.

At this moment, Ron also came over to look at the unusually dense timetable and exclaimed incredulously, "My God, three classes at nine o'clock! I mean, Hermione, I know you're great, but nobody's that great. How can you take three classes at the same time?"

"Don't be silly, of course I can't take three classes at the same time!"

Hermione glared at him irritably, then glanced furtively at Professor McGonagall in the corridor, touched the chain around her neck, and looked somewhat guilty. "Stop asking questions, just hand me the jam!"

Professor McGonagall had emphasized to her that the Time-Turner involved forbidden magic. Although it wasn't as serious as the Unforgivable Curse, it was still something that had been specifically requested from the Ministry of Magic, and if it were leaked, it could have serious consequences.

The course schedules were handed out, and the students chattered excitedly as the professors sat at the head table, eating and watching with smiles.

Melvin sat between Lupin and Snape in an unbelievably clever position: "Remus, did you sleep well last night?"

“Yes, in fact, I haven’t slept in such a comfortable bed in a long time. And the stormy weather, the sound of the wind at Hogwarts is reassuring, perfect for helping me sleep.” Lupin expressed his heartfelt gratitude, “It’s truly a blessing from Lady Luck.”

Last night, the clouds were thick, the full moon did not appear, and he did not suffer the pain of transformation.

“It sounds like the students’ first Defense Against the Dark Arts class will be a good start,” Melvin said with a smile, raising his glass in a toast.

"Thank you for your blessing." Lu Ping nodded and clinked glasses.

“Fortune doesn’t last forever,” Snape said coldly from the side. “The rainy season in the Scottish Highlands won’t last long. Once the clouds clear, hmph…”

He stopped abruptly and glanced at Melvin indifferently.

Melvin hesitated for a moment. Was this a provocation, an attempt to make him suspicious of Lupin with ambiguous words, to incite him to investigate Lupin's werewolf identity, to cause an accident that would expose Lupin, just like he had done with the previous two Defense Against the Dark Arts professors?

How could Snape be so mean!

If this continues, he'll incite Snape to investigate Wormtail!
(End of this chapter)