Chapter 124: Weekend Tutoring
The copper latch creaked, and Draco, who was only half a head taller than the lock, pushed the door open.
Melvin looked up and glanced at him, somewhat surprised.
Draco’s hair was messy and disheveled, his face had slight bruises, the left side of his cheek was slightly swollen, and there were still visible scrapes from the injuries; he walked with some awkwardness.
Melvin chuckled lightly and asked, “Someone at school actually dared to hit the Malfoy family’s young master? What, did you duel Harry again?”
Draco still maintained his awkward walking posture, limping to the front of the desk and sitting down; probably feeling that this image damaged the Malfoy family’s reputation, his neck flushed slightly red, and he didn’t know how to respond: “Good evening, Professor Levent.”
“Good evening.”
Melvin nodded slightly; remembering to greet at this time showed that the Malfoy family valued politeness.
“I didn’t duel anyone; I fell on the pitch.”
Draco replied. As a second year student, sitting on the guest chair he was only a head taller than the desk, putting on an adult demeanor with a straight face: “My father told me that Professor Levent and the Malfoy family are partners; if I encounter difficulties at school, I can seek your help.”
“Our cooperation doesn’t include this sort of thing.” Melvin’s tone was slightly distant, but he didn’t refuse. “However, professors have a duty to help students. If it’s a legitimate matter, perhaps I can provide some help within my responsibilities. Private duelling is out of the question.”
“It’s not duelling; it’s a Quidditch matter.”
Draco paused briefly: “A week into term, the Quidditch team is selecting new players. I signed up to compete for the starting Seeker position, fairly against the previous Seeker. The players were divided into two groups for practice matches; the other players were all upper years, closer to the previous Seeker, and they deliberately created obstacles for me during the match.”
So it was pitch friction.
Melvin leaned back slightly, uninterested: “For this sort of thing, you should go to Madam Hooch or your Dean, Professor Snape. An elective professor can’t interfere with team lineups.”
Quidditch teams are competitions among students; in fact, the four Deans rarely interfere with team lineups. Last year, Professor McGonagall personally selecting Harry was a special case; at the time, the Gryffindor team had lost for seven years straight, the old Seeker had graduated, they couldn’t find a replacement, and the matches nearly couldn’t start.
Last year they uniformly replaced the match broomsticks, and another batch of old players graduated; each House was fired up, making player selections especially strict. Even quiet girls like Qiu Zhang, who cared about their image, trained until drenched in sweat and had to go to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom to freshen up.
The Slytherin team’s style was wild and aggressive, with burly, robust players in every position. Draco, a beanpole like Harry, being excluded was normal.
If the system hadn’t changed, he could still donate broomsticks for a spot, but due to the young professor’s influence, the sponsorship route was blocked.
Melvin indicated he didn’t want to take responsibility for this.
“…”
Draco lowered his head and stared at the desk, silent for a long time, then said in a low voice: “If you can’t directly intervene in the selection, then I’d like to consult you, Professor, on how to change unfavorable conditions and get a fair chance to compete.”
“Fair competition?”
“Yes, at the Seeker position, if the teammates cooperate, I’m better than that current Trafos.”
The office fell quiet for a moment.
Melvin examined his expression; on the youthful face, many traces of his father could be seen, but upon closer inspection, there were many subtle differences.
After leaving Borgin and Burkes that day, it was unclear what Lucius Malfoy had told Draco. Draco might have misunderstood that the young professor had become his connection at school; when he first entered the office, he indeed had the idea of asking the young professor to directly intervene in the selection.
But after Melvin clearly refused, he quickly shifted his approach to seeking a fair chance to compete, showing strong confidence.
The concession and pivot were like his father’s shadow in business dealings, but the subsequent self-display was different from the Malfoy family style, with a bit of a child’s spirit.
If some influence were applied, would he still become that half-good, half-bad personality, always hesitating between good and evil?
“Mr. Malfoy, we’ve had a few teacher-student conversations before, and your father and I do have some business cooperation, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give you any special treatment. I’m just fulfilling a professor’s duties.”
Melvin looked at him steadily, his tone unhurried: “You shouldn’t come to me for this sort of thing; it’s an affront to your Dean. Professor Snape is the one you should seek help from.”
Draco quietly looked up to observe the professor’s expression, but met those pitch-black eyes, as if they pierced through his mind and saw all his thoughts. Feeling embarrassed, his cheeks grew even paler.
“Of course, as a colleague of Professor Snape, I’ll give some appropriate advice.”
Hearing the professor’s cool words, Draco was stunned for a moment, then joy sparked in his eyes. He stood up and nodded emphatically: “I understand, thank you, Professor!”
…
Nine o’clock at night, Harry and Hermione went together to find their tutoring teacher.
Out the staircase, through the corridor, around two turns, and before reaching the office door, they saw from afar the doorway suddenly open as Malfoy walked out of Professor Levent’s office, his face showing unmasked joy; smiling pulled at his wounds, making him grimace.
Harry and Hermione exchanged looks, their expressions complex.
This wasn’t the first time they’d seen Malfoy coming out of Professor Levent’s office, and he was beaming every time, as if Professor Levent were his tutoring teacher too.
“Professor Levent, we’re here for tutoring.”
Knocking on the office door and seeing the professor’s surprised look, the two felt an indescribable discomfort.
Did these students plan to come tonight?
Melvin thought as he poured pumpkin juice for the two and added scones.
Hermione held the warm teacup and began recounting the past week’s experiences. The difficulty in each subject had increased slightly, but they were still in the foundation-building stage: Herbology caring for Mandrakes, Transfiguration learning to transfigure rats…
The theoretical knowledge was a bit dry, but practical exercises involved constant repetition, with visible progress every day—fulfilling and happy.
“…Only Professor Lockhart’s Defence Against the Dark Arts class; we watched a farce, and two plays.”
“No!” Harry, who had been a classroom supporting role, spoke up to refute, his face serious. “To be precise, three farces!”
“Sigh…”
Hermione sighed wistfully. The little witch from a Muggle background held reverence for the wizarding world; after reading those thrilling adventures in the books, she had first seen such a wizard and nearly idolized Lockhart.
After several classes of torment, the adventurer in her mind became a clownish actor, the rose-tinted glasses shattered.
At first, when her little friends cursed and complained, she tried to defend him, thinking Lockhart just wasn’t adapting to the school environment. But recalling Professor Levent’s performance last year, the contrast was too stark; all excuses and explanations seemed feeble.
Hermione had to accept reality: Lockhart was just an empty-headed fool.
Recalling dormitory night talks with roommates discussing their admiration for Professor Lockhart, the little witch’s expression was uncomfortable.
She took a deep breath, rallied her spirits, opened her satchel, and handed Percy’s Notes to Melvin: “Professor, this is Percy’s Notes. We want to tutor Defence Against the Dark Arts and learn truly useful things to get Outstanding on the final examination.”
“Actually, grades aren’t important; just learning knowledge is fine,” Harry said quietly beside her.
“…”
Hermione said nothing, sitting upright, staring at the teacup pattern in front of her without commenting.
Melvin found it amusing, took the notes and flipped through them: “Defence Against the Dark Arts… Let me look at the notes first.”
Hogwarts lower years’ Defence Against the Dark Arts was more fittingly called Dangerous Creatures Defence, mainly explaining common magical creatures below 3X level—their habitats, behaviors, etc.—introducing some special effect spells, with almost no Dark Magic content, not even duelling practice.
This course content was the combined result of multiple influences.
Hogwarts had no stable Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor for years; with each change, students had to readapt to the teaching style, so learning outcomes and exam scores were naturally poor.
To match student levels, the Examination Board proactively lowered exam difficulty; over the years, Defence Against the Dark Arts became what it is now.
If it was just for passing exams, having them memorize key content and explaining spellcasting techniques for related spells would suffice.
But they were the chosen ones, the protagonists of the Projection Mirror, famous in the wizarding world since their first year, their names proclaimed throughout the British Wizarding World.
Melvin closed the notes, having an idea in mind:
“I’ve looked through the notes enough…
“There are two tutoring plans for you to choose from. First, exam-focused, combining Percy’s Notes; I’ll also get materials from Professor McGonagall and the Examination Board to ensure you get Outstanding grades.
“Second, practice-based; in-class knowledge is just the appetizer, the main course is true Defence Against the Dark Arts.
“Which one do you choose?”
Hermione looked up, her eyes sparkling.
Harry forcefully swallowed the macaron in his mouth.
The two barely hesitated, saying in unison: “The second one!”
Melvin couldn’t help but smile; smart students were less trouble: “Last time I saw you cast was the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical exam; your scores weren’t ideal. Three months later, I don’t know how much progress you’ve made. Let’s test your current level first.”
“…”
Hermione gave a resentful little look. Except for Defence Against the Dark Arts, she got full marks in all other subjects; did Professor Levent really not know why her scores weren’t ideal?
Melvin pretended not to see her look: “You’ve mastered the Illumination Charm, right?”
“Yes!”
“Each cast an Illumination Charm. On the last syllable of the incantation, use emphasis, and before casting, wand tip clockwise one-third circle.”
Harry scratched his head and stood up with Hermione beside him, casting the Illumination Charm as the professor instructed:
【Lumos】
Bright light bloomed in the office—not soft silver light, but intense milky white radiance.
Unlike Professor Flitwick’s Illumination Charm, this basic spell, characterized by gentle stability, became fiercer than the Flame Charm. If a normal Illumination Charm was a candle, slowly releasing light and heat while slowly consuming melted wax, the powerful Illumination Charm was like combustible black powder, eager to release light and heat in an instant.
The two felt their magic power draining at an unprecedented speed.
Hermione soon felt exhausted; the light at her wand tip gradually dimmed.
Noticing the light change, Harry opened his eyes in the blinding white light, breathing rapidly, forehead slightly sweaty, turning to look at the professor, seeing only a blurry figure.
“Alright, that’s enough.” A mild, calm voice sounded.
The two stopped casting and put away their wands.
“Have a piece of chocolate; it’ll make you feel better.”
Melvin examined the two students. The little witch’s face was pale without color, her front teeth bared as she panted heavily, a few strands of hair wet with sweat sticking to her forehead. Harry was only slightly sweaty, breathing rapidly but not panting.
Hermione’s lips were pressed tightly; she had seen the gap between herself and Harry. The usually competitive little witch felt upset.
Harry was silently savoring the feeling of full-power casting.
Waiting for them to recover, Melvin smiled with his eyes: “As I expected, your magic power is stronger than your peers’, meaning our future tutoring can involve more powerful spells…”
Hermione quietly gripped her wand tightly, her breathing still rapid.
“That’s it for today. I need some time to customize a training plan based on your magic power strength and select suitable spells for you.” Melvin handed the notes back. “Same time next week; I’ll wait for you in the office.”
“Yes, Professor.”
The two stood to say goodbye.
Just before leaving, Hermione suddenly stopped, turned to Melvin: “Professor Levent, can I see your powerful Illumination Charm?”
Melvin raised an eyebrow slightly and chuckled softly: “Of course.”
Nighttime Hogwarts was quiet; the powerful Illumination Charm’s white light shone from the Muggle Studies office window, brilliantly spilling onto creatures hidden in the night: leisurely goblins on the grounds, spirited owls in the Owlery, bowtruckles dozing on Forbidden Forest edge treetops—all blinded to tears.
…
Late at night.
Melvin sat behind the desk, eyes slightly narrowed, fingers lightly tapping the surface.
Judging solely by magic power, Hermione slightly exceeded her peers—a result of talent combined with diligent practice, still within normal range.
Harry’s far exceeded his peers, even comparable to some adult witches and wizards.
For this abnormal magic power strength, Melvin had his own theories.
A wizard’s soul is the source of magic power; Voldemort’s fragmented soul residing in Harry’s scar likely spurred this extraordinary magic power from the most powerful Dark Wizard in history.
Another guess: perhaps Voldemort’s fragmented soul acted like the Horned Serpent’s gift, allowing Harry to draw extra magic power. Famous from infancy, accumulated over more than a decade, creating Harry’s current growth speed.
Melvin didn’t know the answer, but he was happy to investigate the truth.
The diary on the desk lay open; Melvin picked up the quill and casually wrote: 「Tom, do you have any quick ways to enhance magic power?」
