Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle

Night time.

Dumbledore walked slowly along the street, his eyes moving back and forth, full of curiosity about the things on both sides of the road. He was holding a can of Coke in his hand, an aluminum can that had just been taken out of the freezer, and water droplets condensed from the water vapor kept sliding down.

Compared to the red cola I drank last time, this blue sugar water seems sweeter.

Nicolas Flamel walked slowly, his steps trembling slightly. "If I'm not senile, then changes to the teaching content require a written report to the school board and the Wizarding Examinations Authority, right?"

"Ms. Marchbank would approve."

Dumbledore automatically ignored the existence of the school board, took a sip of Coke, and suddenly changed the subject: "Have you arranged the Philosopher's Stone?"

"If everything goes well, it has been placed in the underground vault of Gringotts, but..."

Nicolas Flamel paused. "I mean, are you really sure? There hasn't been any news of the mysterious man in over a decade."

Dumbledore's smile faded, his eyes dark and deep. "If Voldemort is really hiding in Albania, he will not miss Quirrell. He likes souls like that the most. If Voldemort returns to Britain, he will definitely not miss the Philosopher's Stone."

Nicolas Flamel couldn't help but frown: "You couldn't stop that young man?"

"I have tried before."

Dumbledore sighed. "Before I left school, I had a conversation with Quirrell. He has completely lost himself in the pursuit of dark forces. His soul is immersed in the shadow of black magic, and even Fawkes's fire cannot purify it."

"Ugh……"

"Nicol, we must admit that even the Imperius Curse cannot completely change a person's mind. I cannot change Quirrell's choice either."

"I just regret that the peaceful days only came for a short time."

……

……

Professor Lewynter:

I apologize for sending this informal letter so soon before starting work, but life is like this, and the unexpected always comes with tomorrow. I have encountered some obstacles in my job search.

You are a very good wizard, but the world values ​​false reputations more, especially those old wizards who are older than me in the Wizarding Administration. After hearing about our meeting, these old professors want to meet you in person and may ask some empty and general questions. I hope you can be prepared in advance.

Don't worry too much, others may not understand your insights, but Ms. Marchbank is an open-minded person and believes that things will eventually work out.

It was late summer in Scotland, and a torrential downpour was pouring down from the castle towers. I was sitting in my office listening to the rain, while Hogwarts awaited the arrival of a new professor.

Your future colleague, Albus Dumbledore."

Early in the morning, at the door of the Woolworth Building, Melvin put the letter he received that morning into his pocket.

He was dressed in classic wizard attire, with his wand tucked inside his lapel and carrying a brown suitcase, which didn't attract much attention.

This neo-Gothic high-rise building has a total of 57 floors and is approximately 792 feet high. Construction began in 1910 and took three years to complete. Considering the construction efficiency of the United States, it is hard to say that the Magic Congress was not involved at the time.

It was a bit surprising that the staff member in charge of the contact was a familiar face.

Auror Mr. Graves was born into a wealthy family. His mother was the former President of the Congress, Seraphina Picquery. Perhaps influenced by his mother since childhood, Graves always had lofty ideals. After graduation, he joined the Magic Congress, refused help from his family, and dreamed of restoring the family's glory through his own efforts.

However, his career development was not smooth. After twenty years, he only became the director of the Auror Office, and even a deputy at that.

Melvin walked into the building calmly.

He had been having an unpleasant quarrel with Mr. Graves.

He had just arrived in New York six months earlier, and his stage designs had caused quite a stir, appearing in newspapers, both No-Maj and wizard.

It wasn't long before the news spread that the Law Enforcement Department noticed his behavior, and a deputy director of the Auror Office happened to be at a critical juncture for promotion, so he resolutely filed a complaint after the Easter holiday.

Melvin later won the case and Mr. Graves was demoted.

Who would have thought of this?

The middle-aged Auror followed beside him, silently watching Melvin cooperate with the staff to register his wand, issue the Hogwarts acceptance letter, and smoothly complete the exit procedures.

"The portkey from New York to London is about to be activated. Passengers, please be prepared. Ten more..."

"I'm going to miss you, Mr. Graves."

"Shut up."

"Seven, six, five..."

-

MACUSA: A History

Since its founding, MACUSA's headquarters has moved five times.

In 1693, after the MACUSA was established and stabilized, a large magical building was built in the Appalachian Mountains as its headquarters.

In 1760, MACUSA relocated to Williamsburg, Virginia, the hometown of then-President Thornton Harkaway.

After Harkaway's fall, MACUSA moved to Baltimore, where President Amber Fleming lived.

After the outbreak of the Revolutionary War, in order to avoid the war and the No-Maj government, the Magic Congress moved again and came to Washington.

In 1892, due to the Bigfoot unrest, MACUSA moved from Washington, D.C. to the Woolworth Building in New York.

Chapter 5: Old Mrs. Marchbank

Melvin gripped the old cane tightly. There was a slight vibration inside the cane, and the surface was glowing with a faint blue light. Suddenly, a suction force burst out and stuck his palm firmly to the middle of the cane. In just a moment, the surrounding space vibrated.

Everything in front of my eyes was dragged and stretched, and I couldn't see anything clearly. A strong pulling force acted on my body, as if there was a cold iron hook behind my navel.

Seconds later they arrived in another country, another wizarding government, the British Ministry of Magic.

Still feeling a bit dizzy after landing, Melvin regained his composure and found himself in a narrow, square room. The walls were inlaid with dark, shiny wood panels. There was no light, and the decorative stripes between the cracks gave off a faint metallic sheen, as if they were made of gold.

"The Ministry hopes you have a great day."

A cold female voice sounded out of nowhere, loud and clear, but the source of the voice could not be heard, as if an invisible woman was standing behind him.

"Classic Cockney accent..."

Melvin muttered softly, and the door in front of him opened, revealing a familiar face with gray hair and beard.

"Dumbledore."

"Many wizards feel that this voice is too cold, and that it makes the Ministry and the Wizengamot seem unsympathetic. I think so too, but it's just too much trouble to change it, so it's been used ever since..."

Dumbledore smiled gently and handed over a badge. "Anyway, welcome to London, Professor Lewynter."

Melvin reached for it, a silver, coin-shaped badge with the registration information from his immigration application written on it: Melvin Levant, Employed.

"The headmaster actually greeted me personally. The Hogwarts orientation is more considerate than I thought."

"The school has some additional procedures to go through to hire foreign professors, as well as the review I mentioned in my letter. We'll discuss the details on the way. Let's go there first."

"..."

Melvin felt that his tone was a little strange, as if he had something else to say.

He pinned the badge on his chest, picked up his suitcase and walked out of the room.

Setting foot in this world-famous wizarding government for the first time, Melvin looked around curiously, his black pupils illuminated by the light.

In front of him was a wide, straight corridor, its dark wooden floor as polished as new. Dozens of fireplaces lined the walls on both sides, with wizards constantly entering and exiting the hearths. Floo powder emitted a blue-green flame, and the dome, constructed of magic and alchemy and inlaid with golden symbols, swayed lightly and constantly changed.

Melvin followed the principal down the corridor and into the foyer.

As soon as you enter the door, you will see the famous Magic Brothers Fountain. In the middle of the circular pool stands a group of pure gold statues. Many intelligent magical creatures surround the male and female wizards in the middle, looking at them with respect and reverence.

This is blatant racial discrimination. In a few decades, this kind of statue will be pulled out and criticized.

Moving my gaze to the left, I saw the security checkpoint not far away. A bearded wizard was guarding a square table.

There was a sign on the table that said "SECURITY CHECK," and a single-pan brass scale. When you put your wand into the tray, it clicked and a thin piece of parchment slipped out from the bottom.

"10 inches, the core is... a water snake horn, and the service life is... 2 years?"

A rare wand core with a usage that is inconsistent with its age.

The middle-aged wizard was a little surprised.

"Yes."

Melvin nodded and smiled, then passed smoothly.

The whole process was a bit sloppy. Melvin knew in his heart that his answer was not important. After all, the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot was standing next to him. If Dumbledore could not guarantee the safety of the Ministry of Magic, no matter how strict the security check was, it would be useless.

As the two of them walked in, Melvin finally remembered to ask, "Principal, what exactly do you mean by the additional procedures you mentioned..."

"I need to tell you I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" Melvin had a bad feeling.

"The Board of Directors cannot directly interfere in school affairs, and faculty appointments do not require approval from the Board of Directors. We originally planned to have you start directly..."

Dumbledore didn't lead him to the elevator, but walked straight inside and stopped in front of a black wooden door. "But Mr. Malfoy heard about the changes in the teaching content and applied for a review from the Wizarding Examinations Authority."

Melvin realized that this was the meeting of old wizards mentioned in the letter: "So?"

"Mrs. Marchbanks organized a meeting to discuss whether the course content should be changed. After careful consideration, I believe that the best person to persuade the committee is the new Muggle Studies professor."

Dumbledore pushed open the wooden door, stepped aside, and winked at him.

"..."

The letter didn't say the meeting was such a surprise.

Melvin had a blank expression on his face. He glanced at the principal dimly, feeling like quitting his job before he even officially started working.

Yet he held back.

As I walked into the room, the wooden door closed quietly.

The meeting room was not very spacious, with dim lights. There was a round table in the middle, and many elderly wizards were sitting at the table.

Griselda Marchbanks was one of them. She looked a little hunchbacked, with fine wrinkles on her face and cloudy eyes. She looked very old. In Melvin's impression, only Nicolas Flamel could be compared to her.

This group of old wizards sat silently in their chairs without saying a word. They asked no questions and did not greet each other. They looked so old that if it were not for their slowly rising and falling chests, one would almost think they were wax figures.

Melvin found a seat and put his suitcase away. Seeing that they had no intention of introducing themselves, he took the initiative to clear his throat:

"Melvin Levant, hello everyone."

His posture was neither humble nor arrogant, and his voice was gentle and polite.

"louder please."