Chapter 22: Professor Stays Out Of Muggle Studies Class
Candlelight flickered at the high table in the Great Hall, tablecloths adorned with lace-trimmed edges draped over the long table, cutlery clinking amid the professors’ conversations.
Melvin sat down and carefully tied his napkin, taking a sip of refreshing mint wine.
“Professor McGonagall, I heard there was a student fight this afternoon?”
He tilted his head slightly toward the deans beside him, his voice tinged with curiosity.
Professor McGonagall was savoring a cream of mushroom soup, her silver spoon scooping up milky-white broth dotted with light brown mushroom bits and finely chopped herbs, rich in cream flavor and smooth in texture, a smile appearing on her face:
“Don’t be scared by the stories circulating among the students, Melvin. They focus on the most thrilling parts of the incident. It’s normal for first-year students to be mischievous occasionally; the matter wasn’t that severe.”
“I heard that Slytherin’s Malfoy was seriously injured and is still lying in the hospital wing?”
“For the specific details of what happened, you can ask Severus.”
A faint smile tugged at Professor McGonagall’s lips, her pleasure evident to anyone. After all, the usual deputy headmaster’s stern, expressionless face when hearing of student misdeeds was even more intimidating than Snape’s.
“…”
Snape remained silent, forcefully cutting into the steak on his plate.
“I’ll explain.”
Professor Flitwick’s high-pitched voice brimmed with enthusiasm as he eagerly began the explanation: “Actually, the flying lesson was going smoothly at first. First-year students encountering flying broomsticks for the first time—bumps and scrapes are normal. At the start, only Neville Lumbardon lost control during takeoff and got some scrapes, so Rolanda had the other students rest in place and took Lumbardon to the hospital wing.”
Rolanda Hooch, a retired female professional player from the Irish Quidditch national team, was decisive in her actions and sympathetic toward little wizards. Over a decade ago, she joined Hogwarts as the flying lesson professor and also served as Quidditch coach for each house and referee for school matches.
Melvin pictured the chubby first-year student’s timid demeanor.
Injured in Potions class, injured in flying lesson… it felt like the kid was always getting hurt.
“With Slytherin and Gryffindor together and no professor supervising on site, a conflict naturally arose.”
Flitwick moistened his throat with sherry: “It started when Draco Malfoy picked up Lumbardon’s dropped Memory Ball and made some excessive jokes. Potter is a righteous and kind child who immediately demanded its return, perhaps a bit impolitely. Back and forth, the conflict escalated. Malfoy rode his broomstick tossing the Memory Ball, and Potter rode his to snatch it back—that’s the ‘flying duel’ the students talked about.”
The clinking of knives and forks at the high table slowed as the professors ate more leisurely, listening to his recounting of the scene.
“Malfoy had probably handled flying broomsticks before, while Potter inherited outstanding talent from his father. Both displayed exceptional flying skills, chasing each other in a stalemate, the match deadlocked.”
Snape furrowed his brows tightly, his expression displeased.
Flitwick’s eyes lit up as he raised his voice: “The development took everyone by surprise. Just as they neared the castle, the Memory Ball was suddenly dragged by an invisible force…”
The high table fell quiet. Flitwick applied his lecturing technique to storytelling, giving the listeners ample time to react. A few seconds later, he broke the silence: “It turned out that the other protagonist, Lumbardon, got involved. While treating his scrapes in the hospital wing, he realized he’d lost his Memory Ball and immediately used the Summoning Charm to find it…
“At the same time, Malfoy, in tense flight, sensed the pull. He concentrated intensely to control his high-speed broomstick and instinctively gripped the Memory Ball tightly, causing the Summoning Charm to stalemate.
“Lumbardon was unaware of this. Thinking the Memory Ball was too far away, he increased his casting power. The powerful pull on the Memory Ball caused Malfoy to lose balance entirely, the broomstick out of control, crashing headfirst into the outer wall of the North Tower and losing consciousness…”
Professor McGonagall interjected: “When he fell from the broomstick, kind Potter didn’t just watch him get hurt. He immediately dived fifty feet to save Mr. Malfoy from a broken neck… which is how I discovered an excellent Seeker.”
Snape’s face darkened, his expression even more unsightly.
“Fortunately, it was just broken limbs and a few ribs. Regrow bones and a couple sips of Skele-Gro, and he’ll be healed.” After finishing the tale, Flitwick downed the remaining half glass of wine and exhaled deeply.
“It’s not that simple, Filius.”
Professor Sprout leaned in: “Little wizards aren’t as sturdy as adult wizards. He’ll need at least one night in bed to recover.”
“That’s true.”
“Poor child.”
“…”
Melvin listened somewhat speechless. Students fighting to the point of broken limbs would warrant calling the police and government intervention in Muggle society, but to wizards, it was like kids scratching nail marks.
The high table was quiet for half a minute before Professor McGonagall sighed: “Two weeks into term, and the first-year students have had several Transfiguration classes. Lumbardon performed averagely. I thought he hadn’t inherited his parents’ casting talent, but he surprisingly mastered the Summoning Charm proficiently, with pull strong enough to affect a flying broomstick.”
“Some wizards are like that—their magic aligns with specific spells, unleashing power far beyond others.” Flitwick paused briefly. “Perhaps Lumbardon is suited to the Summoning Charm.”
Melvin ate silently, saying nothing.
He was just the Muggle Studies professor, only handling elective classes for third year and above. What did a first-year’s Summoning Charm have to do with him?
“I believe… they must receive due punishment.”
The long-silent Snape spoke suddenly, his tone slow, pauses between words very pronounced: “Classroom fights causing serious student injury warrant house point deductions and detention!”
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow: “Malfoy was the one who started the conflict. Shouldn’t Slytherin lose points for that?”
“Lumbardon, Malfoy, and Potter should all be punished,” Snape said unhurriedly.
Melvin glanced up at him. The other two professors’ expressions were subtly amused. Severus’s calculations were out in the open: two Gryffindor students deducted points, one Slytherin—still a win.
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff would profit too, so their professors wisely stayed silent.
Professor McGonagall and Snape began debating point deductions, their tones less amicable:
“Malfoy’s fault was the most serious. Slytherin should lose more points.”
“I don’t object. Malfoy loses thirty, Lumbardon and Potter twenty each.”
“Lumbardon shouldn’t lose points.”
“His Summoning Charm was the direct cause!”
“Ahem…”
Melvin interrupted their argument: “From the Muggle Studies professor’s perspective, we should contact the students’ parents as soon as possible, especially for the injured Malfoy. His mother must be very worried about him.”
The high table suddenly went quiet, as if Draco’s mother had some magic.
“Narcissa…”
Professors Flitwick and Sprout silently recited the name, glancing subtly at Snape to observe his expression impassively.
Snape was expressionless, hands gripping his cutlery tightly, chewing tender steak, his teeth making faint crunching sounds.
He seemed somewhat annoyed.
…
Late at night.
Melvin sat at his office desk, freshly washed and changed into pajamas, not yet sleepy—in fact, increasingly alert.
Two weeks at Hogwarts, and the castle had shown him both the fantastical mystery of a millennium-old magic school and the insular backwardness of the wizarding community.
Not all pure-blood family descendants championed pure-blood supremacy. Aside from the pure-blood enthusiasts clustered in Slytherin, pure-blood students in other houses accepted half-bloods and Muggle-borns equally, but their commonality was clear: whether bloodline prejudice or equal respect, they had almost no desire to explore Muggle society.
Popularizing knowledge to spark pure-blood wizards’ curiosity about Muggles, they only cared about the fun parts, utterly indifferent to the societal systems of billions of Muggles.
“Still need to change it slowly…”
Melvin muttered softly, beginning to outline his work plan.
Muggle Studies classes were progressing steadily. His attempt at moving pictures was stuck at equipment, but topping the list was surprisingly the headmaster’s level design task.
“Potter and the others will soon find the room with Fluffy. Wonder if Voldemort will scout ahead…”
Melvin recalled recent encounters with Quirrell—no useful clues observed. Dumbledore was surely watching, so time for designing levels and traps was ample.
Just unsure how to design this stage…
From those distant memories, the professors’ challenges would be finished soon: Professor Sprout’s Devil’s Snare trap, Professor Flitwick’s key capture, Professor McGonagall’s giant stone wizard chess, Snape combining Potions with logic puzzles, and Quirrell simply placing a troll to block the way.
Each professor’s design reflected their subject.
What about Muggle Studies?
High-tech infrared lasers and safes had Muggle flair but weren’t realistic. Classic mechanical traps like rolling boulders and bear clamps probably wouldn’t convince Dumbledore—challenges were to test first-year students, not treat them as dark wizards.
Danger level should be controlled: ensure safety while creating urgency, maintain difficulty with fun, serve as training and assessment, ideally showcasing subject traits.
Melvin glanced outside—not pitch black, more a deep blue.
He pulled paper and pen from the drawer, lit several desk lamps, and under the brightened light, began sketching on paper. Soon he settled on a design theme and jotted down a somewhat odd plan.
「Escape Room: Narrow enclosed space, dim lighting for sustained psychological pressure… deploy night moths against Illumination Charm…」
“Though first-year students, they’re not as fragile as imagined…”
Melvin clicked his ballpoint pen cap, growing excited: “Gryffindor House lacks nothing but courage.”
…
September 13, Friday.
Two weeks since term started.
Last afternoon class: third-year Muggle Studies.
Melvin, part-time special advisor to the Examination Board, led new teaching content development, unconcerned with tasks or progress, so he played fun games with students for half the class:
Reverse command actions without laughing, pass the parcel, statue…
Students inevitably messed up actions or laughed. Losers were called up for public quizzing on encyclopedia knowledge points; failures meant punishment.
This time, not performances but imitating animals from the book—non-magical ordinary ones—mimicking actions and sounds from pictures and descriptions. Low accuracy, high comedy.
In half an hour, the Muggle Studies classroom filled with laughter and screams.
Knowledge was insidiously infused into the students’ brains.
Melvin hosted games and quizzed while enjoying students’ predicaments, pondering if he could lure Dumbledore as assistant teacher. Time slipped away unnoticed.
At five p.m., the crisp class-end bell rang in the corridor.
Melvin had assigned self-study five minutes prior and promptly grabbed his textbook to end class.
Classroom students weren’t rushing to leave, chattering about the fun games. Lee Jordan’s dark face flushed red as he laughed uproariously: “Aaliyah, you’re too dumb. Every time you’re told to stand, you do— just stay seated!”
“You’re no better. Every time the professor says look front, you stupidly do. Don’t think I don’t know—it’s to see Angelina.”
Hearing roommate Aaliyah’s retort, Angelina rolled her eyes. Without Lee distracting her from the back, she wouldn’t have erred so often and ended up imitating an animal.
“Heh heh… Did you see Angelina as a hippo? Hahaha, her mouth could fit a fist!”
Lee Jordan was still thrilled, his dark face red from laughter: “Professor Levent’s games are so fun. Let’s continue in the common room tonight—call George and Fred… heck, the whole team. I can’t wait to see Captain Wood make a fool of himself!”
“You think your kangaroo was good-looking?!
“Who wants to play with you?!
“Play kangaroo boxing with your shadow!”
Mocked Angelina’s face also flushed dark red, furious: “Aaliyah, let’s go—stay away from this guy!”
Excitement lingered a long time. Somewhat calmed students trickled out; others, not satisfied, stayed to continue games with class punishments.
A form of self-study, anyway.
Meanwhile, Melvin found the Weasley twins in the courtyard.
George and Fred crouched behind shrubbery, several open materials before them, red heads together, emitting odd chuckles now and then.
《Zonko’s Joke Shop inventory》《Intro to Alchemy: Rudimentary Runic Applications》, and out-of-place 《DK Children’s Encyclopedia》.
No Muggle chemical reagents found; Stink Bombs needed new methods. Twins considered runes for similar effect.
Suddenly a shadow blocked their guidebook.
“??”
They looked up abruptly, surprised.
Professor Levent stood before them.
“Mr. Weasleys, I have something I’d like to consult you about.”
