Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 370 The Turmoil Caused by Mr. Roberts
On the vast, gently sloping campsite, the screams and cries of witches and children, like a howling whirlwind, lingered in the air above the campsite and gradually spread, growing more and more mournful.

A little boy, not yet six years old, stood by the roadside, stumbling as he tried to escape to the door of his tent, but the swaying and pushing wizards around him blocked his way.

The boy was less than the waist of an adult wizard. In front of him were countless swaying legs. With a little force, the wizard who was pushing him pushed the boy off balance with his knee and made him stagger backward.

But the wizards were everywhere, and the boy couldn't even fall down. Someone bumped him from behind, and the boy completely lost control, bouncing around in the crowd like a ball.

"It's that boy who played with the slug during the day..."

Hermione stood at the entrance of the newspaper tent and saw the boy in the crowd. His fair eyebrows were tightly furrowed, and his face was full of anxiety.

The little boy was like a helpless doll in the crowded throng. His cries were drowned out by the howling wind. He couldn't even stand up straight and was about to fall, becoming a stumbling block in the chaos.

And all around were adult wizards, each weighing at least a hundred or so, plus the hard-soled dragon-hide boots...

Hermione couldn't bear to imagine the bloody scene. With a determined heart, she left the safe zone of the Prophet's office and squeezed her way into the crowd, casting a Bubble Head Charm on herself at the same time.

The tent at the Prophet's office was a remote corner that Editor-in-Chief Gufair had found through connections. Although it was also affected by the chaos, it was still within a safe range. Hermione, the intern, went against the flow of people and walked out of the front courtyard, standing out in the chaos.

"What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?!"

A force pulled her back, and Tonks, with her purple hair and a stern face, tapped her forehead: "You're just a third-year witch, not strong enough and your magic isn't powerful enough. You don't think you can stop these guys, do you?"

"Tonks!"

Hermione's face lit up with joy; she had seen this Auror before at the Three Broomsticks: "Quick! There's a little boy over there!"

"Kingsley has already gone there with his men, don't go over there and cause trouble."

Hermione turned her head and saw that the tall, fat, dark-skinned Auror had already led his men to set up a cordon, with the tip of his cane against his neck, patiently persuading the people nearby to stop and stop pushing.

One aspect is to patiently persuade them verbally; the other is to directly use a binding spell on wizards who disobey orders and cause trouble.

As the little boy approached the outer perimeter, surrounded by several petrified human shields, he quickly gained his footing in the crowd. A middle-aged witch hurriedly ran over and pulled him out from the crowd.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief: "Harry said you and Professor Lupin went to monitor the werewolves, what are you doing here?"

"The werewolf matter isn't urgent. The Quidditch World Cup is the top priority for the department right now. As soon as we received the message from Percy, we sent over anyone with a fireplace nearby."

Tonks waved her away, signaling her to stay where she was, and then picked up his wand and headed towards the most chaotic center of the area.

……

The fluorescent green powder was thrown into the fire, acting like an accelerant. Flames shot up suddenly, the outer flames glowing with an even brighter green phosphorescence, and a human face could be faintly seen in the center of the fire.

Pacing back and forth in the office, Percy, an assistant in the International Affairs and Cooperation Division, leaned close to the flame and anxiously urged the person opposite him:

"Two Auror squads are not enough. Send more reinforcements!"

"There are at least 60 to 70,000 wizards on site; no matter how many are sent, it won't be enough."

Across from me was the newly appointed deputy minister from the minister's office, who spoke with equal urgency: "Headquarters still needs people on duty. Ms. Burns is still in New York, and Mr. Crouch will be back by tomorrow at the earliest. Where am I supposed to find someone for you!"

"If no one comes soon, there's going to be a murder here!"

"Stop rushing me. I'll call back all my colleagues who are on vacation watching the game. You also have colleagues on vacation or retired now, as well as Aurors from other countries. Let's mobilize them to help."

The Ministry of Magic mobilized all its remaining staff, including zookeepers from the Department of Fantastic Beasts and memory erasers from the Department of Disasters. Even those who were off duty to go back to sleep were dragged out of bed.

Led by Kingsley, the staff on site first quelled the unrest in one corner of the camp. Percy and Bagman led a group of men back and forth, their canes pressed to their throats, shouting in a louder voice:
"Those on vacation, please stop and come out to help!"

The sound drifted toward a cluster of tents not far away, adjacent to the Irish fan area. One of the tents had a vulture specimen hanging on its roof, and a brass nameplate engraved with the words "Longbotton".

Hearing the shouts outside, Frank Longba and Alice Longbottom exchanged a glance, then looked at their wife and children beside them, as well as the elderly Mrs. Longbottom, and both remained silent.

This place was also within the scope of the turmoil, but before the chaos spread, the couple, with their experience as seasoned Aurors and their quick reflexes, saw that something was wrong and called to their neighbors to hide in their tents and close the doors.

The tent is a family heirloom, left behind by a pure-blooded ancestor. It is fireproof and waterproof, and can withstand ordinary spells. The tent door even has a reverse-lock spell. As long as they close the door and hide, they can wait in peace until the chaos ends.

"..."

The shouts from outside reached the tent again; it was Bagman from the sports department, his voice hoarse from shouting so hard.

Alice hugged Neville tighter in her arms and gently patted her arm.

Although he was already a teenager, Alice still treated him like a child, perhaps because she missed out on the companionship that accompanied him during his growth and wanted to make up for it.

Neville broke free from his mother's embrace, his face slightly flushed: "Mom and Dad, there are people outside who need help."

"The Ministry of Magic's people have already arrived; they don't need two Aurors on leave." Old Madam Longbottom glared at him.

The elderly witch used to always talk about Longbottom's glory, urging her grandson to be successful and become a warrior like Gryffindor, for fear of being looked down upon.

But after Frank and Alice recovered and were discharged from the hospital, she became less concerned about her grandson's future and even refused to let Neville do dangerous work.

I used to think Neville would become an Auror after graduation, but lately I've been thinking that maybe growing herbs would be a good idea, and I could also help manage the family business.

Neville ignored his grandmother's advice and continued to look into his parents' eyes, eyes that were remarkably similar to his own.

Frank ruffled his soft, short hair: "Your mother and I are going out to take a look. We're giving you a task: protect Grandma's safety. Can you do that?"

Neville grinned.

The Aurors were sidelined for over a decade due to injuries and illnesses. After recovering, they began to focus on the family business. Although they did not retire from the Ministry of Magic, they took a backseat. Now, they are responding to the call to step up again, and they feel pretty good about it.

As they emerged from the tent, before they could even get a good look at the situation on the gentle slope, a familiar figure pulled them away.

"Come with me quickly, we need more manpower over there!"

He was tall, with a ruddy complexion and a short brown beard.

It was Amos Diggory from the Department of Fantastic Beasts Control. I vaguely remembered him being on the vacation list; he was originally scheduled to come to camp on the day of the competition, but he rushed over to maintain order after receiving the news at home. He's a kind and helpful person. But…

Frank hesitated for a moment: "Why did you bring the child along for something so dangerous?"

Amos Diggory turned to look at his eldest son beside him and smiled kindly: "You mean Cedric? He's taller than me now, he's not a child anymore."

Cedric rubbed his nose and said somewhat helplessly, "The notification said the situation was urgent, so I wanted to come and see if I could help in any way."

Before the two could speak, Mr. Diggory started running again. He saw someone he knew and waved excitedly before even getting close:

"Arthur! Arthur! You've come too!"

……

“In a way, it was you who drove the Roberts away and caused this turmoil,” Professor Flitwick said earnestly.

Melvin's face was full of helplessness. He had spent the whole day in the office that the stadium had reserved for the competition committee, looking through the club and the competition committee's documents. Hearing the noise outside, he went out and saw two professors in the corridor.

Wearing a long emerald green robe, black-rimmed square glasses, and with a few strands of gray hair tied in a tight bun, Professor McGonagall looked serious.

The man next to him is, of course, the half-elf, Duel Champion, Quidditch Academy Cup bottom-ranked player, Professor Flitwick, who plans to stand on a stool to watch the match.

"What are you two doing here?" Melvin was quite surprised to run into his colleagues here.

"The Quidditch World Cup is held every four years, and this year's final is finally being held in Britain. Do you think Minerva will miss it?" Professor Flitwick asked with a smile.

"I thought you guys were busy preparing for the Goblet of Fire and planned to stay at school for the entire summer vacation."

Professor McGonagall immediately rolled her eyes at him. Melvin thought about it and realized that it was indeed harsh. He, who had always refused to work overtime, was now asking someone else to work overtime for a whole holiday and not even allow them to watch a game.

"It was the right thing to transfer Mr. Roberts."

Professor McGonagall commented, "However, the Ministry of Magic failed to provide proper guidance. Nobody expected that such a huge mess would occur without Muggles around. We have an obligation to help."

Professor Flitwick led the way, his short legs moving swiftly as he made his way back to the camp from the stadium. There was still a distance to cover: "The Ministry of Magic is short-staffed during the summer holidays, and the senior officials are all in New York for meetings."

"The International Wizarding Federation is embroiled in a bitter dispute over the Muggle trade, with some insisting it's a serious violation of the Secrets Act and a criminal act. Even though some members of the Magical Congress of the United States are involved in similar businesses, Ms. Picqueri's strong opposition is understandable; she experienced several large-scale magical leaks in her youth, and the conflict between Muggles and wizards there is even more intense..."

Professor Flitwick and Melvin hadn't seen each other for a long time, and they started chatting non-stop: "Speaking of which, members of the Salem Witch Institute also came to watch the competition, and I saw their tents."

Professor McGonagall shook her head: "As the chairman, Dumbledore doesn't want to get involved in this kind of thing. The others probably won't get any results from arguing. Everyone should mind their own business."

Following the lanterns out of the woods, we came to a chaotic campsite.

To prevent the fire from spreading, the Ministry of Magic staff extinguished the open flames outside, using only their wands for illumination. The silvery light illuminated the wizards' thronging heads, reflecting their faces, where tear stains and fear still lingered.

Melvin paused, suddenly realizing that this might really be the butterfly effect he had caused.

He looked up and saw Mr. Weasley, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, and others gathered in a corner of the camp, guiding people to gradually disperse. However, the Ministry of Magic's team of nearly a hundred people was simply unable to control the camp of sixty or seventy thousand wizards.

Even if only half of the people are crammed onto the gentle slope, it is still a dense, dark mass that stretches as far as the eye can see.

Thanks to the efforts of the Ministry of Magic staff, the pushing and shoving on the outside has eased somewhat, but inside it is still packed with people, so much so that there is not even enough space for people to take out their wands to cast spells, and messages cannot get in.

Melvin's dark pupils were clouded with a gray mist, and one could sense the emotions fermenting in the air. Fear was spreading and deepening, growing stronger the closer it got to the center.

Some people wanted to go back to their tents, while others wanted to leave the crowd. Like headless flies, they pushed and shoved in the narrow space, causing the crowd to become completely blocked.

Some people were already struggling to breathe, their vision blurring due to lack of oxygen. Anxiety and restlessness exacerbated their oxygen consumption, and the darkness intensified their fear. They could no longer wait for the Ministry of Magic to gradually relocate and rescue them.

Percy and Bagman spotted the three from afar and immediately approached: "Professor..."

"Restore the lights first to dispel the panic in the crowd," Melvin said in a deep voice.

The two were taken aback for a moment: "What should we do?"

……

"Symmo, Dean, don't touch the tent zipper!"

Mrs. Finigan slapped away Simon's restless hand and warned sternly, "The area outside is full of Bulgarian fans. They're the ones who started this riot. If we mess with them, who knows what kind of trouble we'll get into!"

Simo gave a muffled reply.

He was of mixed race; his mother was a witch and his father was a Muggle from Kent. They did not travel together on this wizarding trip.

Dean, standing nearby, was filled with unease.

He was also of mixed race; his mother was a Muggle, and his father had died during the last Wizarding War. Seamus had invited him to come along.

Mrs. Finigan had taken good care of them throughout their stay, and everything had been fine for the past few days. But then, tonight, a problem suddenly arose.

It's all the fault of the barbaric Bulgarian fans!

Simo pressed his ear to the tent: "I think I hear a sound outside!"

"You all stay in the tent, I'll go out and take a look."

Lady Finnigan had tied her long, pale yellow hair up, changed her long dress (which made movement inconvenient) into trousers, and held her wand in her hand, looking neat and capable.

A witch who graduated from Gryffindor never hides and cries when she encounters problems.

Seamus and Dean exchanged a glance, then simultaneously drew their wands and followed behind Madam Finnigan, who was about to open the door and leave. Madam Finnigan tried to shoo them away several times, but to no avail, and could only acquiesce to their help.

The three of them arrived at the tent entrance, grabbed the zipper and pulled it all the way down with a hiss. The moment they stepped out of the tent, they gasped and fell silent, gazing at the sky.

"That's... Professor Levent's guardian spirit?"

(End of this chapter)