Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 286 Stadium Accident
"A righteous wizard is needed to handle the body before the funeral begins. It would be even better if a guardian spirit could be summoned."

“Apply insect-proof oil to the corpse, mask the stench with spices, and then wrap it in coarse linen.”

"We will also need some candles. Ordinary people can use small candles, while nobles can use specially made whale candles or candles made of spices."

"..."

In the castle's basement, in the corridor outside the potions classroom, a nearly headless Nick floated in mid-air, recounting medieval funeral procedures to several children in a sinister tone.

The translucent, silvery-white ghostly body was chillingly cold when the wind blew, creating a somewhat eerie atmosphere.

Ron listened intently, almost to the point of taking out his notebook to write it down.

Harry's expression was complicated, but he still stayed by his side, pretending to listen attentively.

He glanced sideways and saw Hermione looking up, clearly interested in medieval wizarding customs.

"Honestly, holding a funeral for a pet doesn't have to be this complicated."

After speaking for ten minutes straight, Nick, who was almost at his wit's end, became impatient and waved his hand, "That's enough for now, the bell is about to ring, and you still have Potions class."

“Okay…” Ron was still not satisfied.

"Goodbye, Sir Nicholas."

Have a pleasant Potions class.

Nick, nearly headless, watched them enter the underground classroom, sighed, and drifted to the next room.

I really don't know what students are thinking these days. They actually want to hold a funeral for a pet mouse and write it down so they can tell the Widow Ghost of Kent during the summer vacation.

Before they could even get through the wall, they turned around and bumped into the Potions professor who was rushing to class.

Snape, expressionless, glanced at him indifferently as he passed by, then, without stopping, flicked the back of his robe and entered the Potions underground classroom.

"That's how Slytherin wizards are, it's like the whole world owes them Galleons..."

Nick, who had almost lost his head, shook his head. His figure passed through the wall, and in the last moment before the ghostly head disappeared, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a bald rat around the corner not far away.

Do mice come out to forage during the day?
This is so blatant and aboveboard, it's outrageous!
Nick felt that the house-elves at school were a bit lax.

……

Saturday, April 11.

It's already winter.

The crisp autumn weather of last month ended, and several days of overcast skies followed. Temperatures in the Scottish Highlands gradually turned to winter, with thick, leaden clouds covering the sky, blocking out even the midday sun. Herb classes in the greenhouses had to be lit by lamps, and the grounds were frosty and frozen every morning.

Before dawn this morning, rumbling thunder echoed in the sky, the north wind howled and lashed against the castle walls, old trees in the Forbidden Forest could not withstand the weight and snapped with a mournful crack, and raindrops poured down in a pattering downpour.

After breakfast, Melvin, urged by Professor Flitwick, went to the Quidditch pitch and took his seat in the Ravenclaw stands.

A Quidditch match is being held today.

Gryffindor and Slytherin, old rivals who have met on the same path.

The Slytherin team had previously requested a postponement so that Gryffindor could play Hufflepuff first, mainly because they had not trained to cope with such extreme weather conditions.

Gryffindor, however, made thorough preparations. They often trained in the rain, returning to the castle covered in mud, which angered the castle keeper, Filch.

However, the reason for the postponement was insufficient, and both Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Hodge rejected it.

The Quidditch spirit is that, unless there are unforeseen circumstances like earthquakes, floods, or volcanic eruptions, the games should be held on time.

"Ugh……"

Actually, he wasn't very interested in Quidditch.

Melvin unfurled the waterproof and moisture-proof bubble wrap, casually enveloping the entire audience and trapping all the Ravenclaw students inside.

The cold, damp wind and rain swept in, and the raindrops blew against the foam, trickling down in thin streams, sliding along some invisible, transparent arc, like tiny, transparent worms.

"It's a harassing horsefly!"

The little witch in the front row suddenly opened her eyes wide, her bright eyes filled with surprise and the joy of finally seeing the real thing. Her delicate, fair face displayed a variety of emotions at the same time.

They didn't even bother to watch the game; instead, they leaned closer to the transparent membrane and carefully watched the raindrops slide down.

In the back row were Qiu Zhang and Marietta, who were all curious about this rain-proof magic.

Melvin sat in his seat, listened to the students' praise and amazement for a few minutes, and then turned his gaze to the field.

The two teams changed into their respective team uniforms, greeted each other in the rain, and even though their eyes were almost closed, they still had to deliver pre-match trash talk with grumpy faces.

He couldn't help but smile. There were still about ten minutes before the match started, so he turned to chat with Flitwick.

Before we could even get to the improved application of the Bubble Head Curse, we saw Dumbledore and Professor Sprout arrive.

What are you doing here?

Professor Flitwick asked, bewildered.

"Come here to take shelter from the rain."

"Didn't you yourselves also make them waterproof and moisture-proof?" Professor Flitwick pointed to the principal's clean, bushy beard and Sprout's robe, which were completely dry.

Sprout waved his hand: "I just don't want to sit next to Minerva and Severus. They both have such sullen faces watching the game, and it feels colder than being in the rain next to them. And Remus, Severus is still holding a grudge about what happened that night, thinking that Remus helped Black escape."

"That last repelling spell was indeed a bit strange."

"If you want me to say..."

The two partners, who had been together for decades, found a topic to talk about in just a few seconds. They huddled together and whispered, even casting a spell to prevent the students around them from hearing.

"A very ingenious head-bubbling spell."

Dumbledore chuckled and sat down beside him.

"Actually, I'm more interested in the principal's skills in controlling the guardian spirit, such as flexibly controlling the phoenix's size and being able to transmit messages through sound," Melvin sincerely asked.

His guardian spirit was very special. He practiced repeatedly while studying at Iphamoni, but could never solidify it. It was only after graduating and leaving the school, bidding farewell to the long-horned water snake, that it gradually solidified.

He even suspected that his original guardian spirit might not have been the horned water snake, but some other animal, which later underwent some unknown change due to the influence of the horned water snake.

Therefore, I am particularly curious about Dumbledore's phoenix.

"The principle is not complicated; it only requires a little trick."

……

"The storm is too strong, this match is going to be very difficult!"

"Don't worry, Oliver, we don't care about this little bit of rain."

“Hey, this is no small amount of rain, Arya.”

"..."

Harry stood in the middle of the field, listening to his teammates chatting before the game started. He wanted to respond with a couple of witty remarks, but he felt too weak to open his mouth.

The scarlet robe was soaked through, clinging heavily to his body. Rainwater soaked him, drawing away his body heat and seeping into the ground. Water droplets hit his glasses, obscuring his vision. "The match begins!"

Hearing Mrs. Hooch's whistle faintly, Harry gripped the broom tightly and leaped into the air.

Rain poured down, and Harry's cloak, which usually fluttered in the wind, was too heavy to move. He rode his broomstick over the edge of the pitch and saw the Quake ball in mid-air wobbling and moving slowly, the continuous rain diminishing its momentum.

The batter swung the bat with force, producing a dull sound, and both the drift ball and the Quaffle could only fly slowly for a short distance.

On the contrary, the Slytherin players, with their strong physiques and weight advantage, could hit the ball very far and occasionally collide with their own teammates, giving them a clear advantage. Arya and Angelina were struggling to cope.

Harry tried to keep himself from getting too caught up in the game; he was the Seeker, and his attention should be on the Golden Snitch.

The thin Seeker pursed his lips, feeling the raindrops take away his body heat. His vision outside his glasses was blurry, and he could only vaguely discern the location of Malfoy, let alone the Golden Snitch.

We can only resort to close-quarters combat tactics.

Harry let out a soft breath, relaxing the muscles in his body that were tense from the cold and nervousness, then gripped the broom tightly and hovered not too far behind Malfoy.

A good Seeker must always be aware of the opponent's movements to prevent them from tracking down the Golden Snitch while the Seeker is running around aimlessly like a headless fly.

Harry remained on the edge of Malfoy's field of vision, sometimes near, sometimes far, drawing his attention and preventing him from fully focusing on finding the Golden Snitch and buying time for his teammates to widen the score gap.

Time passed slowly, and the sky grew increasingly gloomy, as if night had decided to arrive ahead of schedule.

Harry nearly bumped into players several times, and couldn't tell if they were his teammates or the opposing players. Only when lightning flashed across the sky could he vaguely see his surroundings.

"Boom!"

Seamus and Dean waved to him from the front row of the Gryffindor stands.

"Boom!"

In the Ravenclaw audience, Dumbledore sat next to Professor Levent.

"Boom!"

On the highest level of the Gryffindor stands, there was a black dog with coarse fur all over its body.

"!!"

Harry was startled. He turned his broom around and looked intently at the stands again. The black dog had disappeared, replaced by two figures in cloaks.

A roar came from inside the cloak's hood, a roar unlike any other beast's throat sound. It was more like an eerie vibration, unaffected by the heavy rain, traveling across half the stadium to reach Harry's ears.

Harry saw the two figures clearly. They appeared to be tall, thin wizards, but their faces beneath the hoods were strange, and their deformed hands looked like pale, lifeless corpses soaked in water.

Two Dementors are rapidly flying this way!
"Harry, you're up here!"

Captain Wood's voice rang out from the scoring circle. Harry looked up and saw a flash of gold streak across the sky; the Golden Snitch was rapidly ascending.

Just then, another bolt of lightning flashed, and with the help of the flashes from the Golden Snitch and the lightning, the space under the dark clouds was also illuminated. Hundreds of Dementors floated above the stadium, and rain mixed with cold white mist covered everything.

A strange silence enveloped the stadium; the howling wind and rain seemed to pause; the familiar cold front froze him, dragging his consciousness downwards.

Then I heard the witch's mournful wail again.

"Don't touch Harry! Don't touch Harry! Please don't touch Harry!"

"Get out of here, you stupid woman, get out of here!"

Harry tried his best to stay awake.

He opened his eyes a crack and saw Dumbledore and Professor Levent standing side by side in the Ravenclaw stands. Headmaster Dumbledore held up his right hand, shook it at himself, and the sound of chanting a spell echoed throughout the stadium.

[Shock Absorption and Speed ​​Reduction]

My body froze for a moment, and the feeling of weightlessness from falling disappeared, as if I were being held up by soft cotton.

Professor Levent looked up at the sky. He didn't move or chant any spells, as if he were just standing there, quietly watching the swarm of Dementors filling the sky.

The Dementors high above also looked down at the young professor.

Everyone in the entire Quidditch stadium could see the soft silver glow shining in the darkness.

Guardian Spell.

In the last moments before Harry lost consciousness, he saw an incredible sight: the torrential rain across the entire stadium suddenly slowed down, and the raindrops, the flags fluttering in the wind, even the players riding brooms and the Golden Snitch flying through the air, all seemed to freeze in the soft silver light.

A colossal serpent of mortal energy, formed from silvery light, coiled around the stadium, its mouth agape in a piercing shriek.

The Dementors were swept out of the school like withered leaves by a whirlwind, with no chance to struggle.

Harry landed on the ground without feeling any pain.

"Harry!"

Ron and Hermione ran over the stands toward him.

……

On the bedside table was a silver metal tray holding a pale green potion, next to which was a freshly opened chocolate frog box, with a faint sweet scent lingering in the air.

On the second floor, in the school clinic, in a single room, the patient was still asleep, and the professors were speaking in slightly lower voices.

The competition had barely ended when the headmaster called an emergency meeting to discuss how to liaise with the Ministry of Magic's Aurors and protect the rights of teachers and students. Even though it was the responsibility of the four heads of departments, Melvin, as an elective course professor, felt like he'd been assigned to work overtime again.

“It was mainly Minerva’s work—liaising with the Board of Governors, putting pressure on the Ministry of Magic, and dealing with the out-of-control Dementors,” Professor Flitwick said. “Tell me about your Patronus; it’s truly impressive.”

"Let's talk over dinner, the patient is still unconscious..."

Melvin pointed to Harry on the bed, quietly ending the conversation, and glanced at the professors standing by the bed.

Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed into a tight line, and Professor Sprout looked indignant; Snape remained expressionless, seemingly still observing with Wormtail, and did not knock on the door of the Potions office.

Only the school nurse, Ms. Pomfrey, was examining Harry's injuries while muttering complaints under her breath.

"I don't know what you were thinking, insisting on holding the game in a storm... They are students, not professional players."

"Those Dementors should have been dealt with long ago, but you guys just wouldn't do anything about it. Now look what's happened, you've caused this mess, haven't you?"

"..."

At the bedside table, Dumbledore methodically assigned tasks: "I think this is the second time, Harry encountered Dementors on the Express and also fell into a coma."

"Yes." Lupin nodded slightly.

"Remus, during your break, please teach him the Patronus Charm."

"Okay, Principal."

……

Harry slowly opened his eyes. Before him were neat white curtains, soft candlelight, and a warm, comfortable bed.

Turning his head slightly, Harry's vision gradually cleared. He was lying in a private room in the school infirmary, the night seeping in through the glass window, and the faint sweetness of chocolate still lingering in his mouth.

"Harry, you're awake?"

(End of this chapter)