Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 371 The Students of the School
The bright silver serpents, like a galaxy of stars, coiled in the dark sky, illuminating the entire camp. The gentle slope was not steep, the terrain was flat, and there were few trees and weeds. The tents had their lights and campfires extinguished, and tens of thousands of shamans looked up at the long-horned water serpents with their heads bowed.

A cool evening breeze blew from the direction of the woods, and the silvery moonlight bathed the campsite.

"It feels... so quiet all of a sudden." Hermione tilted her head back, leaning against the outer wall of the newspaper office tent, looking at the sky.

Cecilia thought this was nonsense. In a chaotic camp, the sudden appearance of such a magnificent guardian would leave anyone stunned, and all screams and shouts would stop in surprise.

But why would Professor Levent summon a Patronus?
"A feeling of peace and security." Hermione slowly closed her eyes.

"What?" Cecilia looked around.

Seemingly alerted, the Ministry of Magic staff quickly recovered from their surprise and got back to work. With the Patronus's silver light shining upon them, they no longer needed to hold up their wands, and their efforts to guide the trapped wizards around the perimeter were much faster.

"I mean their emotions."

Hermione carefully savored the subtle feeling: "Just as Dementors draw pleasure away, the Patronus of the Longhorn takes away the fear, allowing the trapped wizard to regain his sanity and calm down."

"It's also possible that the evening breeze brought fresh air, giving them a chance to catch their breath."

Cecilia sniffed. She had taken Professor Levent's class before graduating, and given the professor's personality, she felt that her explanation was more in line with Muggle thinking.

Hermione silently opened her eyes. She recalled her professor's lessons on souls and emotions. Despite being a Muggle Studies professor, his research topics were incredibly magical.

"This won't last long..."

Cecilia shook her head: "The wizards who were pushing and shoving have only stopped temporarily, but those in the innermost part are still struggling to breathe. The professor has temporarily calmed the panic, but that's not enough. The people from the Ministry of Magic are too slow."

Hermione looked at the densest area in the middle of the gentle slope, which was still a dark mass under the silver light. Tens of thousands of wizards were like headless flies that had stopped, still unable to find their way, still crammed together in a camp.

This wasn't the Ministry of Magic's fault. A couple hundred staff members were insignificant compared to tens of thousands of wizards; the disparity in numbers was too vast. It was like a dam after a torrential downpour, with only a trickle of water slowly draining away.

They suddenly looked up, and a dazzling light bloomed in the sky not far away. The silver serpent began to shrink, and then an exquisite shield rose into the sky:
At the center is a capital letter "H", surrounded by standing golden lions, silver snakes, black badgers and bronze eagles, with knights' helmets and ribbons above and below.

The Hogwarts symbol!?

"Hogwarts students, stay put in the inner circle and wait. Those still on the outer circle, immediately move to the northwest of the camp!"

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick's voices rang out simultaneously, their loudness amplified and their resonance spreading throughout the entire camp.

The shield emblem acted like a road sign, providing excellent guidance. The wizards on the periphery gathered like ants, gradually moving towards the Hogwarts shield. Wizards closer to the shield moved in that direction, while those farther away didn't foolishly charge headlong into it.

Some of the headless flies found their way, gradually clearing the congested camp.

Following the Hogwarts coat of arms is the Ilvermorny emblem, which is similar in structure to Hogwarts. At its core is a Gordian knot made of a ribbon, surrounded by four beasts: a longhorned water serpent, a thunderbird, a cat-leopard, and a Pukchi.

“Iphamoni’s student…southwest direction.” A calm female voice came.

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang quickly followed suit, the former with two golden wands crossed in a cross, and the latter with a double-headed eagle and a deer's head, along with a line of Cyrillic letters.

The symbols of the four colleges hung in the night sky, and clear directions echoed across the camp. Even without the guardian deity of the long-horned water serpent, the panic and unease that filled the air gradually dissipated.

The tens of thousands of wizards huddled together gradually created gaps as one group of them moved away little by little, like ants carrying food.

……

In the southeast corner of the camp, next to the tents of the African shamans, sits a tent bearing the American flag.

The campsite was well-chosen, located near the water source at the edge of the camp, with rocks to block the wind, and far from the two opposing fan camps in the center, thus avoiding the impact of the chaos.

The tent looks very Muggle-like, made of canvas and nylon, with a banner hanging high on it that reads:

Salem Witches' Association

Unlike the infamous New Salem Charities, the Purgers, the Witches' Guild is a wizarding organization dedicated to uncovering that tragic history, combating Purge criminals, hunting down Salem Charities, and protecting the rights of witches.

For decades, the association had remained largely unknown until a few years ago when news of New Salem appeared in the Ghost Newspaper, bringing the Purgers back into the public eye and attracting the attention of many American wizards.

A cult in McClane County, Texas, was exposed. Their crimes once shocked the wizarding world. After taking in orphaned children from the New Salem Charitable Society, the Witches' Society received large sums of money and gradually grew stronger.

The most generous donation came from the Grevis family.

The retired Speaker of Parliament, Ms. Serafina Picqueri, not only generously provided financial support for their development, but also attended various banquets and stood up for them in public as a centenarian witch.

They even persuaded Principal Fontana to help them establish an on-campus club in Ifamoni.

This time, several middle-aged witches from the association brought a few girls from the school club to watch the World Cup, and the tickets were generously provided by Ms. Picqueri.

Nancy Boot, who recently turned seventeen, joined the Salem Witches Club last year.

The club was guided by the Dean of Pukchi Academy, who was kind and gentle to the girls, and this kindness was especially appreciated after Nancy joined with a letter of introduction from Ms. Picquart.

During this journey, the witches took care of her almost to the point of being overly attentive.

Just now, the witches from the association saw trouble at the camp and rushed to help without hesitation, even though they were in a safe area. Now, thirty minutes have passed, and the girl who stayed behind in the tent is starting to worry.

Nancy looked around and, seeing that the situation was gradually improving, breathed a sigh of relief: "The crowd is gradually dispersing, it's alright now..."

A group of witches dressed in Muggle attire stood nearby, away from the fans and the center of the area, which kept them from being affected by the turmoil and made them feel less tense.

"Was that Professor Goldstein from the school just now?"

"That sounds right."

"It's a pity it wasn't Principal Fontana, otherwise his voice would have been even louder."

"I heard the principal dragged Pickley back to school for tutoring during the summer vacation? He's clearly the top student in the whole school, going into seventh grade next year, and graduating soon. What does he need tutoring for?"

Why don't you ask Nancy?

The girls chuckled. Nancy and Pickley had grown up together since childhood, and everyone in Ifamoni knew about their relationship.

Looking at the chattering sisters outside the tent, Nancy, who was also about to enter seventh grade, shook her head: "I don't know either. I heard they're preparing for some kind of competition, and Principal Fontana is giving him special training."

"A competition?" The young witches who hadn't graduated yet looked at each other in bewilderment.

……

The Bulgarian national team's campsite, next to the team and coaches' tents, inside the cheerleaders' tents.

Apollindrakul, her cascading blonde hair flowing freely, patted her chest from inside the tent near the entrance, saying, "It's alright, it's alright..."

She glanced back at her husband and saw a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, knowing he had run out of the tent earlier. She felt a pang of heartache.

The Bulgarian campsite was at the heart of the chaos, where the fanatical fans, upon spotting Krum, frantically chased after him, and his entourage was innocently caught in the crossfire.

I rushed back to the tent and heard that several cheerleaders had lost their shoes. I almost couldn't resist showing my wings.

As Mrs. Delacour took out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat, she complained, "If I had known that coaching the Bulgarian cheerleading team was so dangerous, I wouldn't have taken this job. It's far too dangerous."

"Who says only your family members are suitable to be Veewa coaches?" Mr. Delacour said with a helpless smile.

Although Veela possess intelligence, they are, after all, magical creatures with wild instincts flowing in their veins. No matter how beautiful and charming they appear normally, they are prone to revealing their half-human, half-bird beastly form when slightly provoked.

Their ferocious appearance and loud voices weren't the main problem; what was inconvenient was the difficulty in communication.

The Bulgarian national team has assembled a group of Veeva cheerleaders as mascots, hoping to make a stunning appearance on the World Cup stage. They need a dance expert who can communicate with the Veeva and guide their training.

There are only a handful of Veela-mixed witches in the world, all of whom are relatives of theirs, and Apollin is the most suitable choice.

Of course, the salary is also very generous, and World Cup tickets are included.

"It's a good thing I didn't let Fleur and Gabrielle come along," Apollin muttered discontentedly.

“It’s alright, even if they come, Professor Beauxbatons will take care of them.” Mr. Delacour put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead.

Apolline pushed the annoying guy aside and got down to business: "That spell just now, the symbol of Beauxbatons... could it be Lady Maxim?"

"Ms. Maxim has gone to New York to attend the International Federation of Wizards."

Mr. Delacour pondered for a moment: "That just now... must have been Professor Rozier, right?"

……

The noise gradually subsided.

Inside the Bulgarian national team's main tent, a figure sat by the window. He was dark-skinned and thin, with a grayish-yellow complexion, a hooked nose, and a blank expression on his face. His thick eyebrows cast shadows on his face, making his eyes appear gloomy.

Behind them, a group of adult wizards were talking; they were the team manager, several coaches, and the players' teammates.

The entrance was crowded with fans, some of whom were shoving and shouting angry words, while others were cheering enthusiastically. However, the situation had improved considerably compared to half an hour ago.

After the Bulgarian national team arrived at the camp today, they originally planned to go straight to the stadium to start their training. However, after some communication, the organizing committee said that the venue was not ready and hoped that the team would rest for half a day first, which gave Krum a chance to be interviewed.

Managers, coaches, and players are tired from long journeys and naturally want to rest.

But Krum disagreed, saying that the Irish guys were closer and had arrived several days earlier, starting training and getting used to the venue much earlier, so there was no time to waste...

They also said that their team's overall strength was not good to begin with, and they won the finals by stealing the Golden Thief all the way.

Batter Volkov couldn't help but retort, saying he was a monster, possessed by dark magic, a monster without humanity.

The disagreements caused the team atmosphere to cool down again.

Krum refused to give interviews and had no place to train, so he simply hid alone in his tent room. As a result, someone leaked the news, causing a riot in the camp.

At this moment, the Bulgarian team manager was whispering, "The minister is still in New York attending the International Wizarding Union Congress, but he is paying close attention to the situation at the World Cup. Now we have caused such a big problem... The only thing we can do now is to have Will give an interview to appease the fans. I will talk to the British Ministry of Magic."

Will he agree?

The coach glanced at the star player out of the corner of his eye. Even though they were in the same room and could hear each other, he still couldn't help but lower his voice: "He just didn't want to be interviewed during the day, so he hid in the tent."

Why don't you try to persuade him?

“Apart from the competition, who can persuade him at any other time?”

"hiss……"

The manager glanced back at the solitary figure and felt a headache coming on.

On the other side of the room, the main players also breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the chaos subside and the camp returning to its original order.

With a young star player on the team, they're used to this kind of thing.

The figure sat by the window, his round shoulders drooping. Even though he could hear the conversation inside the room, he refused to turn around and say anything. This attitude infuriated the players, especially since the chaos was caused by him.

"A monster..."

"Shh, stop talking!"

The older Dimitrov restrained the player, turning to look at Krum by the window: "Viktor, I remember you haven't graduated from Durmstrang yet, right? That was the school's logo just now, wasn't it? Principal Karkarov came along too?"

“No.” Krum turned around and responded softly, “It’s the professor of Dark Arts Curses. The headmaster said he didn’t want to see his old friend.”

"Old friend?"

"Headmaster Karkaroff was a British wizard and a graduate of Hogwarts. For some reason, he left Britain fourteen years ago to teach at Durmstrang and eventually became the headmaster."

Similar discussions took place throughout the camp; the excitement of escaping the suffocating chaos kept them awake.

The silver serpent coiled in the sky left a deep impression. The symbols of the four houses temporarily replaced the Quidditch World Cup final as the topic of conversation late at night.

(End of this chapter)