Chapter 206: Secret Meeting
Time had come to May, and it was already summer.
At some point, the bright sunlight became somewhat scorching, but not yet hot. The early spring flowers in the grounds and courtyard were no longer visible, and the tender leaves on the trees in the Forbidden Forest had turned from light green to olive green, lush and verdant.
In such pleasant weather, teachers and students passing by the tower corridor bridge couldn’t help but slow their steps to gaze at and admire the distant scenery.
Melvin descended the rotating staircase and arrived at the second-floor classroom fifteen minutes early. There were no other classes that morning; this was the second year’s Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.
Placing the golden goblet and textbook on the lectern, Melvin scanned the classroom. The students hadn’t all arrived yet; some were loitering in the corridor outside, while others from the previous Herbology class were visible through the window, laughing and hurrying back to the castle from the greenhouse.
Hermione in the front row was quietly examining the golden goblet, scrutinizing the badger-shaped engravings and the two exquisite pure gold handles. This appearance perfectly matched the descriptions in various school history materials, making it hard not to suspect that this was the legendary Hufflepuff’s Goblet.
“Professor Levent, will Professor Gaunt be substituting again this lesson?”
Hermione sitting in the front row asked, tilting up her little face with a puzzled expression. “What exactly is Professor Gaunt? Is he still alive?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know…” Hermione shook her head, hesitating. “Although some of the slang he uses in class is outdated by decades and he appears as a shadow, Professor Gaunt has many differences from Professor Binns. I think he is fundamentally different from ghosts.”
Strictly speaking, Riddle within the golden goblet was indeed an old wizard from fifty years ago.
As a second-year student, the little witch’s perceptiveness far exceeded her peers; she even noticed linguistic habits. But lacking rich experience and knowledge, she couldn’t make inferences from the clues and could only ask the professor.
“You can think of Professor Gaunt as a peculiar memory carrier, similar to a magical portrait but storing more and more detailed memories. Memories shape thinking, and these unique memories have shaped the unique Professor Gaunt.” Melvin smiled as he replied. “You’ll know in the future.”
So what exactly is Professor Gaunt?
Is this golden goblet Hufflepuff’s?
“Can’t the professor give the answer now?” Hermione sat below the platform, somewhat frustrated.
However, Melvin didn’t dwell on the topic and turned to chat with other front-row students. The students were not reserved with this young professor, chattering about the final examination in a month, their review plans for this period, and recent Quidditch inter-house matches.
Soon, the second-year little wizards entered the classroom one after another, and the class bell rang on time.
The lesson proceeded as usual: Professor Levent summoned the shadow, and the unique Professor Gaunt taught them, knowledgeable, humorous in speech, occasionally citing cases of dark wizards—horrifying, evil, even cruel, yet thrilling and irresistible.
Hermione took notes diligently, occasionally glancing up to observe the shadow discreetly. This Professor Gaunt was indeed dutiful and seemed to enjoy the teaching process, always showing a satisfied smile whenever the students called him professor.
“This term’s new knowledge ends here,” the shadow said, floating in the air.
There was a month until the final examination; the remaining class time was for review, matching the progress of other subject professors.
“Any more questions? Discuss in groups and give me your responses.” Professor Gaunt began the post-lesson discussion segment.
Hermione turned her head; Harry was in the back row. The classmates beside him had already started teasing and joking. In previous such segments, the professor would select questions from other students to answer, but never missed Harry.
“Professor Gaunt is Harry’s fanatic fan,” Seamus said with a smile.
But today was slightly different; Professor Gaunt skipped Harry and floated to the Slytherin side, standing beside Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott, patiently answering their questions.
“Has Professor Gaunt changed?”
Hermione tilted her head, finding it strange, and looked toward the lectern to see Professor Levent also watching that side.
They all seemed to be paying attention to… Theo Nott?
……
In the evening, Theo’s Fort, far in the southwest suburbs.
Old Nott stood on the bustling street side, glanced at Lucius Malfoy beside him, and looked up at the dirty signboard of the Oak Barrel pub.
He carried a secret letter forwarded by Malfoy in his pocket—less than an inch in length, just a few short sentences, but the content was shocking. Any single sentence taken alone could cause major losses to the Nott family. If reported to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the fines could bankrupt the Nott family, reducing them to poverty like the Weasleys.
Once a Death Eater who escaped trial, a sanctimonious figure lurking in the black market, head of the Twenty-Eight Families’ Nott family—Old Nott, with anxious trepidation, decided to meet the mysterious letter writer. Following Malfoy’s guidance to the Oak Barrel pub, he would meet the mastermind in a private room on the pub’s second floor.
“I’d be very happy to go in with you, but I need to have a drink downstairs.” Lucius patted his sleeve lightly. “Don’t worry, that gentleman is reasonable. I believe you’ll have a pleasant chat.”
Lucius was a detestable fellow, whether as a former Death Eater accomplice who escaped trial together, or as later business partners—Nott had always thought so.
He had watched Nott’s unease all the way but revealed no information.
Entering the Oak Barrel pub, no patrons noticed them. Lucius went to the bar, where lame Old Will showed no good expression, just glancing over without greeting, but Old Nott still felt several scrutinizing gazes.
“Second-floor corridor… Room 13… Not an auspicious number.” Old Nott took a deep breath, increasingly uneasy.
Crossing the deserted corridor, the oak door had no carvings, with a brass nameplate bearing the number 13 adorned in vine patterns, twisted like monster tentacles.
He knocked, but no response. Old Nott pushed open the wooden door and saw a somewhat familiar figure.
“Melvin Levent… professor?”
The door closed by itself without wind, locking with a click, shutting out the noise from downstairs. Old Nott sat across from the young professor, his mind still dazed. A crystal lamp hung overhead, candlelight dim; the young professor’s face was hidden in shadow, only his white shirt collar and black robe with silver trim visible.
“Beer, champagne, or whiskey?” Melvin asked politely. There was only a teapot in front of him.
“Black tea?” Old Nott said.
“Of course.”
Steaming black tea poured into the porcelain cup with a slight splash. Old Nott knew that no matter what he wanted, it could pour from that teapot.
Old Nott sipped, set down the teacup, his mind gradually calming: “Mr. Levent, going to such lengths to summon me here is for…”
“Don’t overthink it.” Melvin observed him impassively. “Sorry for the invitation method. The Magic Mirror Club is very special, plus some past misunderstandings—certain people in the Ministry of Magic don’t view me favorably. If they see pure-blood family members too close to me, the next plans won’t proceed smoothly.”
“Next plans?” Old Nott remained vigilant. “What plans?”
“Mr. Nott, you can relax completely. I’m not here to blackmail you, just to facilitate cooperation—between you and Lucius.” Melvin handed over several parchment letters.
Faced with excerpts of correspondence between Lucius and the young professor, Old Nott was puzzled but began reading. Meaningless pleasantries were removed, sensitive content omitted, leaving only their discussions on producing films and dramas.
Using films and dramas to whitewash family history, restore reputation, even build a better image… This was the path the young professor pointed out to Lucius?
Old Nott read carefully several times before putting away the documents: “Professor, what do you mean?”
“Films and dramas are fields wizards have never touched. Mr. Malfoy is also unfamiliar. I suggested two months ago he start preparing, but there’s still no progress. His efforts alone may not suffice, so I want to invite you to join.” Melvin chose his words carefully.
Old Nott and Lucius were old partners; he understood immediately.
That guy had been cunning since student days, following the Malfoy family motto: whether good or bad, stay in the second line stoking fires, never exposing himself. He recalled several Slytherin-Gryffindor conflicts where Lucius was involved but escaped heavy punishment.
After graduation, joining the Death Eaters, his abilities and wealth quickly made him the Dark Lord’s key aide, status even higher than Bellatrix and others. But in the postwar reckoning, he escaped trial.
Afterward, Lucius became more cautious, feigning remorse with compensations and donations everywhere, quietly withdrawing from many illegal businesses. For those with hefty profits too hard to abandon, he chose partners.
After the projection mirror’s emergence, it caused a stir in the wizarding world, reaching the tribunal several times. The newly appointed Senior Deputy Minister Umbridge repeatedly opposed it. As Minister Fudge’s confidante, pure-blood wizards couldn’t ignore her views.
A shrewd cautious man like Lucius, scarred by the last Death Eater incident, surely wouldn’t fully commit to this Professor Levent’s plan.
What if he became a Magic Mirror Club core member again and faced postwar reckoning?
So this professor needed a third party to accelerate progress and urge Lucius.
“Is this an order or a cooperation suggestion?” Old Nott asked after thinking.
With this professor sending an invitation full of leverage, he had no room to refuse, but he needed to gauge the man’s character for future schemes.
Melvin smiled: “Of course a suggestion.”
Old Nott’s mind stirred: “Why choose the Nott family?”
“Because of your son, Theo Nott.”
Melvin explained, “I’m Hogwarts’ Muggle Studies professor. Most of the time, I follow Muggle educational principles, judging family environment from student personality. Theo is a very special child.”
Old Nott was silent for a moment, then said softly: “Theo… he’s ordinary, only somewhat talented in Potions.”
Melvin shook his head: “In Slytherin’s environment, he always keeps to himself. From a pure-blood Twenty-Eight Families background, he agrees with pure-blood supremacy, but hasn’t joined any cliques. I think he’s deliberately hiding himself—not rejecting joining classmates to mock others, but not starting trouble…”
“He’s somewhat reclusive,” Old Nott said.
“To raise such a wizard, I believe the Nott family outperforms others like the Goyles or Crabbes.”
“Thank you for the praise, professor.”
“Moreover, Theo is very smart. With slight nurturing, he could shine brightly.” Melvin paused briefly. “Whether entering the Ministry of Magic or Potions industry, he could make the Nott surname known throughout Britain.”
If the earlier leverage was a threat, this was temptation.
Before a father, proposing to cultivate his child—few could refuse such enticement. Old Nott knew this Professor Levent had the ability; he had proven it before.
A year ago, the Philosopher’s Stone story introduced Britain’s wizards to Ron from the impoverished Weasley family and Muggle-born Granger; two ordinary students became as famous as the Boy Who Lived.
Around Christmas, reports of battling the basilisk gave all Drama Club students exposure.
Seemingly, agreeing to cooperate would put Theo on newspapers and projection mirrors, making him a household name warrior and benefiting the Nott family.
But Old Nott shook his head in refusal: “Professor, as long as you promise not to involve Theo, I’ll agree to your request.”
“Oh?”
Melvin was slightly surprised but understood upon reflection. The Magic Mirror Club’s future was uncertain; Old Nott didn’t want to bind his son to this ship—that was survival wisdom.
This also proved his choice correct: Old Nott was a smart man.
“My promise holds long-term.”
Melvin nodded. “Call Lucius in; let’s discuss the script.”
Footsteps approached; Lucius, waiting long, knocked and entered, not asking about the prior talk, placing a thick stack of parchment before them.
Melvin and Old Nott flipped through and read, the three reaching a tacit understanding.
Half an hour later.
Melvin set down the parchment, rubbing his brow: “This is the story you spent months writing?”
Old Nott also looked at Lucius, hesitant to speak, expression very complex.
The dozens of parchment pages pieced together a detailed story: ancestors following William I the Conqueror to Britain, fighting bravely to earn merits, gaining lands to build the manor, then accumulating wealth through diligence and wisdom to buy more land.
Over a millennium, every Malfoy shunned fame and fortune, never involving in politics or power, supporting the Secrecy Law and backing the Ministry of Magic. Only decades ago under control; to atone, they have since actively donated and compensated with good repentant attitude.
This wasn’t a script at all—just a dazzling Malfoy family history, blindingly bright.
