Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 368 Dartmur
Early August, around dusk.

4 Privet Road, Little Wheeking, Surrey, London.

The sun, as always, shone over the neat garden in front of the house, illuminating the brass plaque on the Dursleys' front door. The afterglow of the setting sun spilled into their kitchen and living room, where many photos were displayed on the fireplace mantel, documenting Dudley's growth from childhood to adulthood.

Wearing a colorful baby hat, riding a carousel at the fair, playing computer games with his father, Mr. Dursley, and being embraced and kissed by his mother, Mrs. Dursley… there is no indication in the house that another boy lives there.

Harry had been unwelcome in this family for the past decade or so, and after inflating Aunt Maggie's reputation last year, he faced even more strange looks, with fear and wariness, as if they were guarding against some monster.

But he has gotten used to this kind of life; at least he has moved out of the storage room under the stairs and has his own bedroom on the second floor.

There was a calendar hanging on the bedroom wall, marking all the days up to September 1st. Harry would cross each day off, hoping that Sirius would come and take him away soon.

"I hope you told him, Mr. Blake, to dress properly!"

When Harry told the Dursleys that Sirius would be coming to take him away before dinner, Uncle Vernon was horrified, looking agitated and nervous.

“I’ve seen people like you dressed like this before; it’s not presentable. Mr. Blake had better dress more normally so the neighbors don’t notice their oddity!”

Harry felt a slight sense of panic.

He didn't care what his neighbors thought, nor did he care whether Sirius's clothes met Muggle standards. He was worried that the Dursleys would be disrespectful to Sirius, and if they angered him by giving them some curses, it would be troublesome if it came to the Ministry of Magic's Inquisition.

Uncle Vernon also wore his best suit, and although his bulging belly looked comical, it couldn't hide the suit's expensive material and excellent workmanship. It wasn't to show welcome, but to make himself appear extraordinary and arrogant.

Cousin Dali huddled in Aunt Penny's arms, looking uneasy, his timid eyes filled with fear.

The last time an adult wizard visited the Dursleys was when Hagrid came to deliver Hogwarts acceptance letters. Dudley was extremely rude at the time, and Hagrid gave him a curled pig's tail.

Aunt Penny and Uncle Vernon had to pay to have him taken to a private hospital in London for surgery to remove his tail.

At that time, Harry didn't have a wand and wouldn't be monitored by the Aurors. According to the Ministry of Magic's records, Hagrid's wand had been broken and destroyed fifty years earlier, so he didn't receive a warning letter from the Aurors.

"How is he going to get here? By car?" Uncle Vernon paced anxiously back and forth by the table.

“Maybe it’s… a motorcycle?” Harry wasn’t sure either.

The Department of Transportation has its own vehicles, but Sirius, as a former fugitive, probably can't borrow one from the Ministry of Magic. Hagrid once mentioned that the flying motorcycle was originally modified by Sirius; it's unknown whether it's been returned.

Cousin Dali covered his buttocks and stared out the window. The wall clock ticked away, and time passed second by second.

Just then, a beam of light swept across Privet Drive, and the deep roar of an engine came from the doorway. A yellow sports car was parked outside the Dursleys' Garden.

As the car door opened upwards, the family's gaze first fell on the haute couture suit, and then on the bearded middle-aged man with his hair neatly combed and his shiny black leather shoes making a rhythmic clattering sound on the ground.

Sirius Black adjusted his collar and knocked on the door: "Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley, good evening. I'm here to pick up Harry."

Mr. Dursley stared blankly at the wizard in his attire, his thoughts somewhat disoriented, unsure of what to say.

As the head of Groning Drilling Company, he had met many successful people over the years, including many millionaires, but if anyone looked like an aristocrat, it was Sirius Black standing before him.

He seemed like an heir who had stepped out of a medieval castle, with a slender build and an air of mystery.

Even though he knew perfectly well that the person was a wizard, he wore a suit and drove a Ferrari... perfectly matching the target group he wanted to curry favor with.

Even after seeing them out the door, Mr. Dursley still felt dazed and didn't even know what he was saying. Mrs. Dursley and Cousin Dudley stayed inside, refusing to come out, worried that something unusual might grow on their bodies again.

"Thank you for taking care of Harry all these years."

“If I hadn’t been serving my sentence in Azkaban, I would never have agreed to let Dumbledore entrust Harry to you. He suffered a lot at the Dursleys’ house, but he won’t suffer again.”

That's a rather harsh way to put it.

His clothes look very presentable, but he doesn't understand the social etiquette among successful people and shows no mercy whatsoever.

Mr. Dursley's fat face flushed red. Aunt Petunia felt uncomfortable hearing this, but seeing them dragging their suitcases out the door and about to leave, she became a little bolder.

She couldn't help but question, "Do you think raising a child who suddenly appears out of nowhere is easy? Not to mention we have to keep this a secret, a secret that no neighbor can find out! What do you think we're keeping him hidden from the public eye for?"

Sirius glanced at Dudley with a mocking expression, but said nothing.

Aunt Penny felt offended: "Who do you think you are? What right do you have to criticize us!"

“Of course I’m qualified, I’m James and Lily’s friend…”

Sirius Black closed the car door, and the windows slowly rolled up, with only his voice coming from inside: "I am Harry's godfather."

The engine roared away, and Privet Road fell silent for a moment.

Aunt Penny stretched her thin neck and peered through the fence at her neighbors, making sure no one had noticed the argument. She breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the kitchen to prepare dinner, but a sense of melancholy washed over her.

That suitcase contained almost all of Harry's belongings. There was nothing else of his in the house. His godfather had taken him away. Would he come back next summer? Would they still be living together awkwardly?

……

In the passenger seat of the sports car.

The setting sun shone through the car window, its rays somewhat dazzling.

The sports car's interior leather was brand new, clearly it hadn't been bought long ago, hadn't been magically modified, couldn't fly or become invisible, and drove through the streets of London like any other vehicle, its engine roaring.

The wind carried the unpleasant smell of gasoline, but Harry felt a surge of excitement, curious about everything inside and outside the car. This was the taste of freedom.

Sirius Black's face was expressionless, and his gear shifting and braking were swift and decisive, making the sports car move like a fish in water in the traffic.

Harry was intrigued, never expecting Sirius to be able to drive: "Sirius, where are we going?"

"Let's go to the cemetery first and pay our respects to my brother, Regulus. Then we'll go back to the Black family home for the night, and tomorrow morning we'll head to Dartmoor Park in Devon!"

"Regus?"

"A stupid fool."

……

Dartmoor, Devon. The temperature was low at dawn, the sky was a deep blue, a hazy moon still hung in the sky, mist shrouded the moorland, and dew condensed into frost on the grass blades, making them slippery to walk on.

Melvin moved quickly, and with Bagman leading the way, they encountered no obstacles that would delay them.

Summer vacation is already halfway over, and the International Wizarding Union Conference is in full swing in New York. The Quidditch World Cup final is also about to begin. As an important advisor to the tournament committee, this is Melvin's first time to come to the site for inspection.

When they crossed the swamp and arrived at the forest area, staff were already waiting there.

The two middle-aged male wizards, their clothes damp with dew, were dressed as Muggles. One wore a tweed suit with high leather boots, and the other wore a Scottish kilt with a South American cape. Clearly, they had not consulted any professionals.

The two had worked a full night's shift and were about to hand over their duties. They had dark circles under their eyes and looked exhausted. Even when they saw Bagman and Melvin, they couldn't muster the energy to greet them.

"Bagman and Levent."

"Arrived at seven in the morning, from Diagon Alley."

These are the clerks responsible for giving directions and registering information. One carries a thick roll of parchment and a quill pen, while the other carries a pocket watch and guards a basket of discarded items.

Those were door keys sent from all over the country, along with old newspapers, aluminum cans, and leaky soccer balls; they looked almost like trash cans.

Good morning, Basil!

"Hello... Oh..."

The tired wizard named Basil yawned: "Are you here to inspect the site? Hurry up and go in. Crouch arrived ten minutes ago. If you hurry, you can still make it."

"I hope you get your shift over soon!"

Bagman waved cheerfully, explaining to Melvin as he walked inside:
"The organization is more difficult than we expected. There are about 100,000 wizards from all over the world who want to watch the game. Neither the Ministry of Magic nor Hogsmeade has any magical venue that can meet the demand and accommodate so many people at the same time."

"What about the Unseen Stretch Charm?" Melvin asked casually, looking around at his surroundings.

Dartmoor is a national park, located in a remote campsite that is usually deserted. Three months ago, a shielding spell and a Muggle exorcism spell were cast on the road sign outside, making it even more secluded, like a desolate swamp.

"The Seamless Stretch Charm has many limitations. It is expensive to make and inconvenient to transport. We cannot allow 100,000 people to squeeze into a suitcase or a narrow doorway in a room."

Bagman shook his head: "We had to stagger everyone's arrival times. The match is on August 18th, and the earliest group arrived a month in advance..."

This Quidditch World Cup kept the entire Ministry of Magic busy. Not to mention the Department of Sports and the Department of International Affairs, the Department of Execution was also scattered around maintaining order, and the Department of Transportation organized transportation to ensure that spectators could arrive in an orderly manner.

The Executive Division collaborated with the Muggle Prime Minister to guide some wizards in using Muggle transportation.
Rider buses operate around the clock in various locations, with ticket sellers and drivers working in three shifts.
The stadium was shielded from Apparition, and landing points were set up around the swamp. For those who could not Apparate, the Ministry of Magic also distributed special spectator keys, nearly two hundred of which were distributed throughout Britain.

“The stadium isn’t open to the public yet. The wizards who arrive first are staying in tents at the camp. This was originally a commercial camp for Muggles, and the Roberts family, who are Muggles, are the camp managers,” Bagman explained.

After walking for about twenty minutes, Melvin saw the entrance to the camp, a simple stone house.

Behind the stone house is a gentle slope covered with tents of all shapes and sizes, stretching out into the forest behind.

The Muggle administrator was standing at the entrance, gazing at the tents behind him with a frown and a look of confusion in his eyes.

Hearing the two footsteps approaching, he turned around: "Datmur Camp, is there anything we can do to help you?"

“Good morning, Mr. Roberts!” Bagman’s voice boomed. “We’re from the Sports Department. We have a few tents up on the hill, remember?”

"Sports Department..."

Mr. Roberts repeated the word, referring to the form posted on the door: "Oh yes, I remember... I ordered a week ago."

Melvin sized up the Muggle, who showed obvious signs of mental confusion and memory loss. Despite not being old enough to retire, his position as an administrator suggested he didn't have dementia.

"There have never been so many people before."

Mr. Roberts muttered to himself, glancing back at the fog-shrouded camp: "Hundreds... no, thousands of people have booked tents, and people keep pouring in... lots of foreigners, all sorts of weirdos..."

Just then, a wizard wearing lantern pants suddenly descended from the sky on a broom, landing by the stone house door in the camp, and cast a Forgetfulness spell.

【Forget everything】

The arriving wizard put away his wand and explained to Bagman and Melvin, "He's the only Muggle here, so it's easy for him to notice something's wrong. To avoid any magic leaks, I have to cast the Oblivion Charm on him a dozen times a day."

"..."

Melvin now understands why Roberts has symptoms of Alzheimer's disease.

……

"This is the work schedule for the next week. Because of staff shortages, colleagues from the Animal Division, the Execution Division, and the Disaster Division have been transferred here..."

In the stadium deep in the forest, in the meeting room reserved for the players and manager, Percy was explaining the work arrangements. As the names on the schedule were revealed, a groan of despair erupted in the room.

Ms. Burns and Scrimgeour are attending a meeting in New York, Crouch is on his way back, the London headquarters needs to keep people to deal with the chaos caused by the large influx of foreign wizards, and they need people everywhere, and a group of colleagues also want to watch the game and have taken their annual leave early.

There was a sudden shortage of manpower, and there weren't many people left at the venue.

As Mr. Crouch's assistant, Percy would convey Mr. Crouch's work arrangements at the morning meetings every now and then.

However, today's morning meeting was a bit special. Ludo Bagman, the person in charge who usually doesn't get involved, actually attended, and a young professor was also invited.

"Mr. Administrator Roberts, in just two weeks, he was hit with the Forgetfulness Curse hundreds of times, and no one noticed?" Melvin couldn't help but ask.

"Professor Levent, don't worry. The spell was cast by a senior memory eraser from the Disaster Division. With decades of experience, forgetting spells are his specialty!"

Bagman pointed confidently to a wizard wearing harem pants next to him.

Melvin couldn't help but glance at him.

Jorkins and Lockhart were nearly driven to the late stages of dementia after only one instance of the Forgetfulness Curse, yet Mr. Roberts has managed to hold on until now and still notice the anomalies in the camp. This memory eraser is indeed highly skilled.

"Stop messing with Mr. Roberts, since you're good at forgetting spells. Tell Kingsley to find a way to get Downing Street to issue a notice giving Mr. Roberts a paid long leave of absence. He can come back after the final."

Professor Levent, a Muggle research expert, made his statement, and of course, no one else had any objections. The memory eraser was also happy to not have to work overtime.

(End of this chapter)