Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 357 Visiting Blake

"Congratulations, Harry! You can finally get rid of those mean Dursleys and stop suffering!" The voice on the other end of the line was filled with joy.

Harry turned his head and glanced at Dudley in front of the TV in the living room through the hallway, then paused for a moment: "Don't say that. The home phone is connected in parallel with extensions, so the living room can hear it too. Dudley is playing games right next to the phone."

Ron listened to a string of Muggle terms, not understanding a single word, but that didn't stop him from casually replying, "I know, I know."

There was a buzzing sound from the receiver. Over the next few minutes, the conversation turned to summer vacation and heavy homework. Third graders had been given new elective assignments, especially Muggle Studies, and Harry was having a hard time writing papers that made him question his existence.

"Are you really not allowed to come and live in the shabby?"

Ron muttered, "Percy's already working at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of International Affairs, leaving early and coming home late just like Dad. George and Fred are interning at the Muggle workshops, and they make excuses not to stay home on weekends. Ginny pretends to be well-behaved and sensible in front of Mom, so now she yells at me for everything she's unhappy about..."

“I’ve already spoken to Sirius,” Harry whispered.

“Okay…” Ron was a little disappointed, but his voice quickly became cheerful again: “Do you guys want to go to the Quidditch World Cup final? My dad said he can get box tickets and invites you to come with us. We can watch the game together first and then go back to school when school starts.”

"Please thank Mr. Weasley for me." Harry couldn't help but smile.

"As your best friend, of course I'll remember you when good things happen. When the Quidditch team recruits next semester, remember to put in a good word for me," Ron said with a grin.

Harry, far away in London, was somewhat touched. He knew very well that those unreliable witty remarks were Ron's way of allaying his concerns. Quidditch final box tickets were something that only people with money and connections could get their hands on, and Ron was worried that Harry wouldn't feel comfortable accepting them.

Because of his blood ties, he was trapped on Privet Road in the Little Huijin District. But in places he couldn't see, there were still many people who cared about him, including his godfather who had just had his warrant withdrawn and friends he knew from school with whom he could entrust his life.

This was the most fulfilling summer vacation he had ever had.

“I probably won’t need them,” Harry said with a smile. “You know the Black family is quite wealthy, and Sirius is the only heir. He’s already booked tickets. If you have any extra tickets, give them to Hermione. We can go together.”

"Speaking of which, Hermione hasn't been heard from much lately. I wonder what she's been up to."

"An internship at the Daily Prophet should be very interesting."

"These well-behaved students, they can't even have a moment's peace during summer vacation..." Ron muttered to himself.

"Perhaps we'll see her name in the Daily Prophet."

"Merlin, please let Mom not see this, or she'll start comparing me to her again." Ron shuddered at the constant nagging from his mother these past few days and quickly changed the subject. "My dad is planning to borrow a magic tent so we can live together."

"A magic tent?"

"It's the kind with the Seamless Stretch Charm. From the outside it looks like a tent, but inside it's actually a fully equipped house."

"..."

The wall clock ticked away, and time passed by. This neighborhood in Surrey, London, gradually quieted down. The streetlights illuminated the wide road, and the lights in the neighbors' houses gradually came on, accompanied by the clanging and banging sounds of cooking.

In front of one of the two-story buildings, a housewife carrying large and small bags pushed open the gate, her heels clicking as she walked.

Dudley Dursley scoffed, glanced at the telephone extension in the hallway, impatiently pressed the pause button on the game, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Harry! Lazybones, my mother's back, go help her!"

……

Exquisite cherry wood tables and chairs were placed in the center of the room on the top floor of the tavern, with delicate tea and refreshments and freshly brewed mead laid out on them. Around the table were almost all the core members of the club, and this was a tea party to arrange the club's follow-up work.

Wright of the Monks Stanley family, a rising star in the field of alchemy, is quite famous among the Aurors and is now the tavern owner, Old Will.

There was no clear seating arrangement, nor did it resemble a formal meeting. The window was half-open, and the July sunlight slanted in from outside, illuminating the face of Professor Levent, the club's founder, who sat by the window.

There was only one unfamiliar male wizard, Terry Tulls, the owner of the Diagon Alley Horror Tours travel agency. He was seated next to Old Will, his face beaming with excitement.

Horror Tours is a wizarding travel agency located at 59 Diagon Alley. They offer thrilling adventure tours, such as renting out a vampire castle in Transylvania, camping in the Underworld Cemetery, and exploring the Bermuda Triangle.

Perhaps because the company is not responsible for any injuries or deaths that may occur during these trips, its business has never been very successful.

Every shop owner longs for Professor Levent's guidance, whose advice is like a magical spell. Not to mention the Three Broomsticks and other bars, even Tacrot, who sold lamps recently, went back and created a deluxe custom lamp after exchanging a few words with Professor Levent at a party.

Mr. Malfoy was the first to buy, and several pure-blood families followed suit, with orders already booked until around Christmas.

“By Merlin! That’s Professor Levent! The legendary wizard of the business world! He actually invited me to the party alone this time…” Tulls’ lips trembled with excitement. He had already begun to imagine the scene of the horror journey becoming a multinational corporation with turnover hundreds of times greater.

"Don't act like you're under a spell! I doubt you'd refuse if Melvin offered you dragon dung right now!" Old Will hissed.

“If it can boost the travel agency’s business… that’s not out of the question,” Turs said somewhat hesitantly.

“If I hear another disgusting word from you, I’ll throw you out the window,” old Will said coldly, his face expressionless.

Tulls immediately shut his mouth and sat up straight. Before retiring, the old Auror had visited many locations where horror tours were operated and had done similar things to many dark wizards and dark creatures. He believed that the old wizard was not bluffing, but really could do it.

As the middleman who invited Tulls to the tea party, Wright silently turned his head away, unsure how to describe the sense of powerlessness in his heart.

“Mr. Tulls, the reason we invited you here is that the club wants to collaborate with Terror Journey on some projects.” Melvin sipped his newly brewed mead and chatted casually about business.

“Professor, please speak.” Tulls looked pleased.

"It's not that closely related to the mirror image, but it has great potential."

Melvin tapped his fingers on the table, and the golden liquid turned into white vapor, rising into the air. Illusory projections appeared in the white mist, resembling scenes from the haunted house at Disneyland Paris. Strange dolls manipulated by magic floated and flickered, like real ghosts and monsters.

“Last summer, a new magical amusement park was built in Paris. It was a product of a collaboration between the Rozier family and Muggle businesses, and it was open to both wizards and Muggles. As soon as it opened, it earned dozens of times more revenue than before.”

Melvin pointed to the Disney logo: "If the horror tour also collaborates with Muggles, building haunted houses or escape rooms and opening them to Muggles, increasing revenue will be easy." "Collaborate with Muggles?" Tulls repeated, his eyes filled with doubt. Although this was the guidance he had longed for, what did it have to do with the club's collaboration?

"Disney is the largest and most professional theme park in the Muggle world. The Rozier family sent wizards to enhance the park's fun with magic. Because Horror Tour was previously just a travel agency and had no experience in operating haunted houses or theme parks, in order to ensure the project's smooth progress, the club sent Muggle professionals to provide design guidance and technical guidance on alchemy and the taming of dark creatures in the early stages of construction..."

Melvin provided a detailed introduction to the project.

At this time, the Muggle world already had entertainment projects such as escape rooms and haunted houses, which attracted tourists with their selling point of fright and fear. The thrill brought by the rapid secretion of adrenaline attracted a large number of young fans.

Wizards have similar needs; every year, Hogwarts graduates travel the world to explore various dangerous and exciting attractions and pursue thrilling adventures.

Turs was so excited that he couldn't wait to agree and sign an unbreakable oath.

Melvin continued, "In addition, Mr. Tulls should have heard that the Ministry of Magic plans to restart the Goblet of Fire, with the competition venue set at Hogwarts. Mr. Crouch invited me to co-plan the competition and formulate the rules. I have some ideas that I need the help of the Horror Tour to realize."

"About the funding..." Turs was worried about working for free.

“Provided by the International Affairs Department and the event organizing committee,” Melvin said with a slight smile.

With all the cooperation details finalized, the atmosphere at the tea party became increasingly harmonious. Wright and Tulls were both very interested in the Magic Park, even though they already knew about it from the news and Professor Levent, who had facilitated its development, had just given a detailed introduction. But that didn't stop them from asking for more details.

They talked until sunset, and as Melvin was about to get up and say goodbye, Tulls suddenly stopped the young professor: "Mr. Levent, may I invite you to dinner? I still have many questions to ask you."

"Feel sorry……"

Melvin smiled slightly: "I already have an appointment."

……

12 Grimoire Place

Melvin stood on the street on a summer night, glanced at the address he had marked in his hand, and looked up at the places in London's bustling city that he couldn't reach.

This is an abandoned square. The streetlights on both sides of the road are dim, seemingly in disrepair, and some are completely out of service, but no one cares.

The surrounding houses had eerie doorways, with patches of paint peeling off, making them look dilapidated. Several windows were broken, and the steps in front of a few houses were piled with garbage. An indescribable stench permeated the air.

He stood at the door of number 11, looking up at the surrounding houses. Number 10 was on his left and number 13 was on his right.

"Is number 12 missing?"

The moment the thought crossed my mind, invisible ripples spread through the air, and a dilapidated door appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the room. Steps led to the outside of the door, followed by dirty exterior walls and dark windows, as if the entire house had been squeezed out of thin air.

The black paint on the door was peeling off and covered with crooked scratches. There was no keyhole, and the silver metal door knocker was a coiled black snake.

Before Melvin could knock, a series of crisp metallic clanging sounds came from inside, a clattering and creaking sound, as if chains were pulling on old hinges, groaning under the strain. A few seconds later, the door quietly opened.

"Melvin!"

Sirius Black was no longer the scruffy boy he once was. His chin and cheeks were covered in dark stubble, his thin face was handsome and spirited, and his eyes shone with a candlelight-like light. His sky-blue plaid shirt and wide-legged shorts were completely Muggle style.

It's rare to see such an outfit on a pure-blood wizard.

"Great!" Sirius exclaimed enthusiastically, not minding the creditor's arrival at all. "Come in and help me see if there's anything else that needs cleaning in this house. Harry is moving in in two weeks, and I want him to feel comfortable."

This godfather seems to have gone to great lengths to please his godson.

"I'm sorry, I came in a bit of a rush and didn't bring a gift."

Melvin smiled politely and followed him into the pure-blood wizard's old mansion.

The foyer was filled with the artificial scent of air freshener. The wallpaper on the walls looked quite old; the peeling parts had been repaired with a repair spell, but the color difference caused by oxidation couldn't be erased. The wool carpet had faded slightly from excessive use of a cleaning spell, and the edges were cracked.

The spiderweb-shaped chandelier glowed softly, and the candlesticks and torches were almost entirely shaped like black snakes, which was quite fitting for the meaning of the surname Blake.

All the decorations had been cleaned and repaired, except for one partition at the corner of the aisle, where two velvet curtains covered with wormholes, yellowed with dust and tattered cobwebs, hung out conspicuously.

"Shh..."

Sirius lowered his voice: "Behind them are portraits of the Black family wizards, all of them short-tempered. Trust me, you don't want to disturb them, especially my mother."

Melvin's mind was filled with fragmented information: Walbug Black, Sirius's mother, who died during the Wizarding Wars.

His purpose in coming this time was not the history of the pure-blood family, and he was not interested in the portrait of the mad witch. Following the advice of the host, he tiptoed and quickly passed through the hallway to the deeper part of the mansion.

The passageway behind the entrance hall is more like an exhibition hall, with shelves made from the severed legs of giants, and the heads of house-elves preserved through pickling, wrinkled, with ugly big noses and eyes that gleam eerily in their dark sockets.

Melvin glanced at him and asked in a low voice, "Are you sure you want Harry to see this?"

Sirius opened his mouth, looking like he had something to say, but when he caught a glimpse of a figure behind the stair landing, his expression suddenly changed.

A house-elf stood there, bald, with wrinkled, loose, grayish-white skin, white fur sprouting from his ears, and wearing only a dirty, tattered rag. He screamed at the top of his lungs in a heart-wrenching voice:

"Look at that mud-covered outfit, standing there so brazenly and recklessly! If my mistress were still alive, she would never let such a guest step into the house!"

Melvin looked at the little elf, a faint smile playing on his lips.

I've found you, Kreacher.

　happy New Year! ! !
　　May your career be successful, your health be excellent, you find a partner, become rich, and live to be a hundred... I wanted to write a long, rapid-fire recitation, but due to space limitations, I won't pad the word count, hehe.
　　On this day of bidding farewell to the old year and welcoming the new, it's too late to wish everyone a Happy New Year 2026. So let me wish you all a Happy New Year 2027 in advance!
　　Lastly, Happy New Year!!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)