Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 375 Nurmengard's Letter
Rue de Montrançois, Paris, France.

This tavern combines entertainment and lodging services. Thanks to the influence of Mr. Nicolas Flamel, traces of alchemy are everywhere in France. The Unseen Stretch Charm expands the space of less than two thousand square feet by more than ten times, and the hall is almost as spacious as a Quidditch pitch.

A huge mirror stands on the bar counter in the lobby on the first floor. It is a custom-made model of the Magic Mirror Club. It is decorated with gold and silver iris patterns on the outside, and the name of the tavern is engraved in the lower right corner. It is huge and looks only slightly smaller than the outer wall.

Inside the mirror, a silvery mist swirled, and the crystal-clear glass reflected the scene of the World Cup final.

The customers gathered in the tavern at this moment were all football fans. Without expensive tickets and long journeys, they could sit in the tavern and easily watch the game 500 miles away with just a glass of white wine for 10 silver coins.

There were die-hard fans of Krum and supporters of the Irish team. Even before the match started, the mascot cheerleading performance alone drew deafening cheers from the patrons, the resounding waves almost lifting the pub off its feet.

For guests who prefer a quieter setting, they can spend a little more Galleon to share the exciting match with friends upstairs.

The Delacour sisters booked a room at the tavern, the one at the very end of the second-floor corridor.

The room transformed by the Seamless Stretch Spell was quite spacious, with a bedroom and a living room. If someone knocked on the door and came in, they could see a porcelain doll-like girl sitting cross-legged on the carpet, tilting her head back, looking at the lively scene in the small mirror, her eyes sparkling.

"Riding on a fire crossbow... butter beer, mead..." The man in the mirror rattled off a string of advertising slogans.

Gabrielle's English wasn't very good; she could only barely understand a few words, but that didn't stop her from laughing so hard she was shaking.

How could anyone tell jokes at the World Cup final?
"What are you laughing at? These commercials are being read too fast, I can't understand them at all." Furong hugged her trembling sister to prevent her from laughing too hard.

“Look at the dancing, they’re all Veelas like grandmas, and their mothers taught them the dances. Will we be that pretty when we grow up, and will we be able to dance so beautifully?” Gabrielle uttered words in fragments, her voice filled with innocent childlike wonder.

"You don't need to grow up, you're already very pretty now, and you can learn to dance beautifully now."

“When Mom comes back, I’ll ask her to teach me!” Gabrielle waved excitedly.

"Uh-huh……"

Fleur coaxed the girl gently, but when she thought of Mr. and Mrs. Delacour who had abandoned them to travel alone, she felt angry and gritted her teeth.

"That damn Apollino! She and her husband were enjoying the World Cup together, leaving us here!"

"Wang Wang!"

Behind the two girls was a sofa, and next to it lay a long-haired swallowtail dog, caramel-colored, whose name was also Caramel, as it loved sweets.

Caramel and Gabrielle lay side by side on the carpet, with Mickey and Minnie dolls next to them. Donald Duck and his girlfriend Daisy were on the sofa behind them, along with several other Disney dolls.

Hibiscus ruffled Caramel's hair, looked at the match that was about to begin, and couldn't help but sigh, "To put an ongoing match into the mirror... Professor Levent's magic is truly unbelievable."

The magic, which traveled hundreds of miles from Dartmoor to Paris and even the whole world, was visible to all wizards. Even with the aid of alchemy, Fleur could hardly imagine such magic.

She couldn't help but mutter, "If I were that great, I wouldn't have troubled Ms. Maxim."

Furong is already seventeen years old. Her sixth grade ended before the summer vacation, and she will be a soon-to-be graduate of seventh grade this September. Her grades are among the best, but she is not the number one in the grade, and she is not the strongest in dueling practice either.

Compared to grades and duel rankings, her Veela lineage gave her a beautiful face, which was the secret to her popularity at school. A casual glance, a faint smile, or a simple greeting was enough to make the boys fall head over heels for her.

But it only applies to some boys.

Such an appearance is not popular with girls; instead, it attracts jealousy and even pointless arguments.

Fleur Delacour's reputation at school was always mixed; some thought she was academically excellent and beautiful, while others thought she was pretentious and opportunistic.

Furong didn't care about other people's opinions. She just wanted to graduate smoothly, find an interesting job with her grades, maybe go back to Paris to be with Gabrielle, or maybe go out and see the world.

But Ms. Maxim brought back news of the Flame Cup tournament last year.

As the principal of Beauxbatons, Ms. Maxim did not reveal this directly at the opening banquet. Instead, she instructed the professors of each subject to give extra lessons to several outstanding students, to strengthen their dueling practice for those with good grades, and to make up for the shortcomings in their theoretical knowledge for those who were good at fighting.

Hibiscus is also on the shortlist.

Such actions naturally aroused the curiosity of those who were interested. The French magical world has a long history and has never lacked wizard detectives who uncover secrets. After a series of inquiries, or perhaps as Ms. Maxime intentionally revealed, a few people learned the deeper meaning behind these actions.

"Mr. Nicolas Flamel's pre-retirement prophecy suggests that the Tri-School Championship may be restarted..."

A secret that is known to more than three people is no longer a secret, and the news quickly spread among some students.

Many wizards of the same age see this as a stepping stone to world fame. They believe that if they become warriors, represent Beauxbatons, and win the championship, they will surely become legendary wizards like Dumbledore.

Even without winning the championship, it's still an opportunity to become world-famous and potentially become someone like Serafina Piqueli or Maxim.

Similarly, they also noticed the names on that list.

Fleur's Veela beauty attracted a lot of attention, both good and bad. Compared to her achievements and abilities, people were more likely to believe that it was her appearance that caught Ms. Maxim's attention. But a pretty vase is not enough to represent Beauxbatons.

The second half of sixth grade was particularly difficult. Furong tried to spend her free time in the library or in Professor Rozier's office asking questions, but whenever she returned to the common room and entered the auditorium, she could still hear the criticism.

The students made no attempt to hide their voices, even raising their voices to make sure she could hear them.

Fleur wants to become stronger, to become a wizard like Professor Levent, who wields extraordinary magic, to live up to Madam Maxim's expectations, and to earn everyone's respect.

At this moment, Gabrielle seemed to notice her sister's change in mood, turned around, hugged Fleur, patted her twice, and offered a seemingly comforting gesture.

“Gabrielle…”

Feeling the girl's affection, Furong's heart softened, and she hugged her and whispered, "After school starts, I might have to go to a faraway place and won't be able to come back every week to play with Gabrielle. Gabrielle, be a good girl at home, okay?"

"Where are you going?" Gabrielle asked in surprise.

"If nothing unexpected happens, it should be Hogwarts," Fleur deduced from the few words spoken by Madam Maxim and Professor Rozier.

"Won't they come back for All Saints' Day and Christmas?"

"It's too far, it might be inconvenient to come back."

Gabrielle sniffed, her eyes immediately welling up with tears, her voice trembling with sobs: "Will Fleur leave Gabrielle alone at home like Mom and Dad?"

Furong was immediately at a loss, unsure how to comfort her. Gabrielle hugged her sister's neck, rubbing against her like a puppy, and said in a muffled voice, "Gabrielle won't agree. Gabrielle won't allow Furong to leave for so long."

"Ugh……"

……

"Professor Levent, leave it to me."

"Speed ​​up, you're the last one..."

Melvin stood in the magnificent corridor, watching the wizard from the Department of Transportation jog quickly toward the Floo Network hub, looking up at the Austrian Ministry of Magic's gallery-like dome.

Melvin, a transoceanic courier, carries dozens of video recordings and travels the world alone with dozens of door keys in less than ten minutes, from London to Paris, from Budapest to Romania, and even Cairo, Egypt...

This is the last order.

The crystal ball filled with memories had already floated into the air. The last video recording of the game was handed over to the Austrian wizard, who now only had the flask-shaped key left. The next teleportation was scheduled to begin in half an hour.

"Ministries of Magic around the world adhere to the agreement and begin screenings at the same time, with an error margin of no more than three seconds."

Wright excitedly wrote in his address book, "The idea of ​​using a time converter to achieve a live broadcast effect is magic in itself!"

The members of the Magic Mirror Club had all completed their work perfectly, but unfortunately, there was a problem with the magic department's key settings. The next teleportation time was set for half an hour later, which meant that Melvin would have to wait another half hour before he could go back to watch the game.

This door key is quite small; it can be easily slipped into a pocket and doesn't take up much space.

"When we built the Ministry of Magic, we paid attention to the artistic aspect. Alchemy arrays can easily damage the integrity of the dome image, so FlooNet sacrificed some functions. Sending the memory recordings to the FlooNet hub for playback takes longer. Please forgive me, Professor Levent, I will invite you to visit again when I return." These were the Austrian wizard's words before leaving.

At this moment, Melvin stood in the magnificent corridor of the Ministry of Magic, where there wasn't even a seat, let alone a cup of hot tea.

“These wizards don’t seem very bright…” Melvin shook his head, glancing at the oil paintings on the wall as he walked down the corridor.

Austrian artist Adolf once said that bread should not be sold for 500,000 marks and that one should not work more than 36 hours a week.

The locals in Austria followed his call, and even the wizards strictly adhered to it. It was already night, so the entire Ministry of Magic was quiet, and no one was seen along the way.

Melvin's feelings were somewhat complicated.

He wasn't Voldemort, and he didn't want to find any prophecy orbs at the Ministry of Magic. He just wanted to leave this place and find a safe place to wait for the Portkey to activate.

The Portkey takes time to activate, and the Austrian Ministry of Magic has an Apparition Restriction, so the Floo Network is the best option. However, he has already turned several corners and hasn't even seen a fireplace yet.

Melvin was certain that this floor was the Transportation Department, because the clerk had said that the Flying Network hub was on this floor, but the office doors and windows along the way were all closed, leaving only an endless corridor with occasional forks in the road with signs in German, making it like a maze.

He could only continue along the corridor, trying to find the FlooNet hub and consider whether he should stop by Nurmengard.

After turning another corner, we finally reached a dead end. At the end of the road was a room with an artistic atmosphere, the door half open, but it was clearly not a FiluNet hub.

"Owl Office"

Perhaps because of its international nature, the German-language doorplates, which resemble both pinyin and letters, finally have a sign that can be understood.

The Office of the Owls is a subordinate agency of the Transport Department, responsible for the transportation of international letters and parcels. It is similar to an official post office, and also like customs, with some of the responsibilities of immigration management.

"I'll just go in and sit down, find a place to rest," Melvin muttered to himself, seemingly trying to convince someone.

He pushed open the door and saw a mountain of packages inside, with letters stored on rows of walnut shelves. For a country's customs, these things were not many.

After all, the entire population of Austria, including Muggles, is less than ten million, and the number of wizards is even smaller.

The walnut wood bookshelf is divided into two parts: one part is shipped from China to overseas, and the other part is shipped from overseas to China.

The mail wasn't crammed full; letters from different federal states were even separated into different boxes: Burgenland, Carinthia, Salzburg, Styria, Tyrol, Vienna, and...

"Niumongard"

If I remember correctly, there was only one prisoner serving time in that prison.

A thought flashed through Melvin's mind: Christine and old Vida had both reminded him that his agreement with the remnants of the witchcraft was about to expire, and he had to find a way to get that old wizard out.

Compared to the physical confinement of the prison, the chains in Grindelwald's heart were much heavier. Simply opening the prison doors wouldn't be enough to get him out of Nurmengard.

“Gellert Grindelwald… the leader of the Saints,” Melvin murmured the man’s name.

Reaching into the mailbox in Nurmengard, I pulled out an envelope. It was rough, almost like handmade paper made from straw and bark pulp. The letter inside was tough and coarse, seemingly made from the skin of a rat or gecko, but it didn't have an unpleasant smell.

It seems that the environment in Nurmengard is not very good. Grindelwald is short of money and cannot afford to buy paper and pens with extra Galleons, so he can only make up for it with meticulous handicrafts.

The cover reads:

Scottish Highlands
The eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle
Principal's Office

Albus Dumbledore received it.

Wizards don't use stamps.

Judging from the date, the letter was sent before the summer holidays and has been delayed until now, still not reaching Britain. The Austrian Ministry of Magic clearly does not respect that old wizard. So many years have passed, the witchcraft party has fallen apart, and the saint's fame has long been lost to the river of time.

Headmaster Dumbledore didn't give any instructions or special care, so the letter is stuck here, and it's unclear when it will be sent.

Melvin had no intention of opening the letter to pry into the principal's privacy. He pondered for a moment, found a quill pen and ink bottle nearby, cut a piece of parchment, pasted it on the back of the envelope, and then wrote a short message in an official tone.

After doing all that, I casually put the letters on the shelf on the other side.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the letter will be sent back to Nurmengard soon.

(End of this chapter)