Chapter 72: Harmony Between Teacher And Student
Nine in the morning.
Melvin cheerfully finished his meal and headed to the fourth-floor restricted area, preparing to clean up the chamber he had set up.
At the fourth-floor staircase entrance, a dozen students were sneaking around nearby, their eyes darting about, faces excited, almost wearing their desire to explore on their sleeves. Blocking them were the school rules and the one-eyed, hunchbacked witch statue, along with Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris.
Godric Gryffindor’s twin brothers and Lee, Slytherin’s Cassius, Ravenclaw’s Roger…
Melvin looked around; there were many familiar faces. Recently, all the students at school were curious about the fourth-floor restricted area. Only the twins and their group dared to gather here during breaks.
He looked at the nearest Hufflepuff student and teased with feigned surprise: “Cedric, how come you’re joining in on the fun with them too?”
Cedric Diggory was only in third year but already recognized by teachers and students alike as Hufflepuff’s prospective leader. His grades were outstanding, his magical power strong, his Quidditch skills superb—he was practically a once-in-a-decade prodigy at Hogwarts, a once-in-a-century all-rounder for Hufflepuff. Everyone believed he would take over the team, become a prefect, and serve as president, with a bright future ahead.
Cedric got along happily with everyone; this friendly rapport among friends was unlike the elite networking of pure-blood families—it didn’t feel uncomfortable or distant.
Exceptionally talented yet not arrogant, with a gentle and resilient personality.
“Good morning, Professor Levent.” Cedric greeted him but didn’t respond to the professor’s teasing. After half a year together in Muggle Studies class, they all knew this professor’s personality. He said frankly, “We’re all curious about the underground passage, but Headmaster Dumbledore hasn’t lifted the lockdown order, and Mr. Filch won’t let us through, so we can only come during breaks to liven things up.”
“I see…” Melvin had an idea.
“Professor, are you going in?” George and Fred squeezed over from the side, eyes gleaming as they stared at him.
“Yes, the things in that last room are quite troublesome. The house-elves can’t handle cleaning them up, so I have to go down personally. It’s tedious work…” Melvin sighed slightly, looking troubled.
The red-haired twins’ eyes lit up:
“Professor, we can help!”
“That’s right, we’re not afraid of trouble.”
“Having students help… that doesn’t seem right…” Melvin seemed somewhat tempted but hesitant, his expression conflicted as he pondered the feasibility of the suggestion.
“What does it have to do with you!?” Seeing things might actually happen, Lee immediately pushed the two aside and shouted righteously, “Professor Levent is our elective professor. You two didn’t take Muggle Studies—what are you butting in for!”
George and Fred were not convinced; the brothers teamed up to push Lee away. Roger and Cassius, watching from the side, exchanged a glance and joined the fray. Cedric subtly stepped forward two paces and helped push a couple of times.
The scene turned into Muggle Studies classmates banding together to exclude outsiders.
“Hey, we’re all classmates—don’t start fighting…”
Melvin righteously advised a couple of words, firmly resisting any bad trends that damaged classmate bonds. To maintain friendship among students, after careful consideration, he included all the onlookers.
Mr. Filch frowned, showing a troubled expression.
“If Headmaster Dumbledore asks, just say I insisted on bringing students in.” Melvin said solemnly, showing a professor’s responsibility.
“No, we insisted on going in!”
“We requested it ourselves!”
“Punish us if you have to!”
“…”
The students vied to declare their stance, a moving sight.
A beautiful scene of harmony between teachers and students, friendship among classmates.
…
Perhaps moved by their display of teacher-student camaraderie, Mr. Filch finally relented and let Melvin take the students into the room.
The room was empty, with only a dark wooden trapdoor remaining. No sign of the ferocious three-headed dog; the students could only examine the bite marks on the trapdoor and the claw marks on the floor, imagining how majestic the three-headed dog was and how Harry and the others had used a flute to hypnotize the vicious dog.
“Professor, does the three-headed dog really fall asleep when it hears music?”
They all had it in their Magical Creatures textbooks; they just hadn’t seen it with their own eyes. Asking the professor was to hear confirmation and squeal in excitement for that odd satisfaction.
Melvin then replied: “Fluffy was taken by Hagrid to the Forbidden Forest for free-range. It won’t be sent away anytime soon. You can ask Professor Kettleburn; you might get a chance for close contact.”
The students showed expectant expressions.
“Alright, let’s get to business.” Melvin lifted the trapdoor and called to the students, “The Devil’s Snare below probably hasn’t been transplanted yet. Who wants to go first?”
“Me!”
George quickly raised his hand and jumped right in, yelling the whole way down. The others quickly followed, dropping into the trapdoor like dumplings.
“Lee, move your butt!”
“Whose stinky foot is this!?”
“Ready? I’m going to cast a spell to loosen the Devil’s Snare.”
“Cedric, wait a bit—let him move his butt before you act!”
“I’m tied up; I can’t move!”
“Hurry and do it—the Devil’s Snare is strangling me!”
“Ahh…”
The cave immediately became lively.
Melvin waited a moment until it quieted down. Just as he prepared to jump in, the door was suddenly pushed open. A little witch panted as she looked at him:
“Pro… Professor, I have some questions for you.”
…
In the underground corridor, a group of students walked along the passage, discussing the room setups while debating how they should get through.
“Harry has already woken up…”
Melvin walked at the back. Though it was a question, his tone wasn’t very surprised. Harry’s injuries were just minor abrasions; the main issue was soul shock from contact with Voldemort’s spirit. Three days of sleep was enough to calm his soul.
Hermione brought the information she had heard in the ward: “Headmaster Dumbledore told Harry that Professor Snape’s actions were all to protect him because his father once saved Professor Snape’s life; Quirrell couldn’t tolerate Harry’s touch because his mother left a powerful ancient magic on him… Nicolas Flamel also learned about the school’s events and will meet with the headmaster in a couple of days to discuss destroying the Philosopher’s Stone.”
Melvin already knew the earlier pieces of news, but the follow-up on the Philosopher’s Stone was unexpected. In his memory, Dumbledore had destroyed it before Harry woke up.
Though it was also possible the headmaster was just lying to the kids as usual.
“Professor, I have a few questions for you.” Hermione looked up at the thoughtful Melvin and mustered her courage. “With the Philosopher’s Stone and Voldemort, did Dumbledore intend for us to do all this?”
“Why do you say that?”
“The day Hagrid took Harry to Diagon Alley, they happened to go to Gringotts to pick up a package, and Quirrell attacked Gringotts that afternoon—he’s also the one who told us Nicolas Flamel’s name…
“Dumbledore gave Harry the Invisibility Cloak, guiding him to discover the Mirror of Erised’s purpose…
“When our investigation stalled, you brought us Chocolate Frogs; when Quirrell was about to act, you gave us the warning…” The little witch frowned, her expression serious. “Too many coincidences stop being coincidences.”
Melvin wanted to defend Hagrid—he really wasn’t a plant arranged by the headmaster; the leak was just a simple leak.
“You’re very smart, Hermione…”
Melvin reached out and ruffled her hair, not treating her like a child. He carefully revealed some details within appropriate bounds: “Harry’s mother destroyed Voldemort’s body at the price of her life—that’s extremely special. I don’t want to put it this way, but it really was fate’s choice. When Voldemort returns, he’ll have eternal enmity with Harry.”
Hermione pondered the professor’s words; it seemed like a very distant future.
“The grudge between Harry and Voldemort is heavier than you think. Their fates are intertwined, like Cronus and Zeus in Olympian mythology.”
Melvin paused briefly, his mood complex—he’d unwittingly picked up the headmaster’s riddle-man habit: “In short, Dumbledore hopes Harry can interact with this arch-enemy as much as possible to temper himself, so he can thoroughly defeat him in the future.”
Hermione felt the professor’s expression was meaningful, as if the words hid more. Just as she prepared to ask in detail, Cedric’s shout came from ahead:
“Professor, is this the last room?”
George and Fred chimed in loudly:
“Is it dangerous?”
“Can we go straight in?”
The shattered giant chess pieces ahead and the troll’s dark red bloodstains excited the students, but the chess game had lost its magic, and the troll corpse had been removed for disposal. Without experiencing the raw challenges, they felt itchy inside.
Hearing the last room hadn’t been cleared yet, they were all eager to try.
“No threat to life.” Melvin called out with a chuckle.
The students cheered and rushed forward.
“…”
Hermione recalled the room’s setup—only the puppet statue and the hanging corpse had been damaged. The night moths and bats were fine, along with that strange rope.
Sure enough, minutes later, shrill screams echoed from the room as several boys clustered together, hitting sky-high notes.
Melvin waited for their howling to subside a bit before strolling in unhurriedly. The little witch instinctively grabbed his robe corner.
The room was pitch black.
Night moths and bats rustled their wings. The students huddled together, trembling. Lee Jordan’s robe was soaked. After entering and finding no lights, they instinctively lit their wands, only to get swarmed by the light-seeking creatures, nearly thinking they’d be devoured.
Luckily, Cedric stayed calm, directing everyone to extinguish their wands and slowly gather together.
But in the earlier panic, they’d lost all sense of direction and could only stay put, waiting for the professor’s rescue.
This time, Melvin didn’t use the Hand of Glory. He directly cast the Illumination Charm. Amid the students’ wide-eyed terror, he lightly flicked his wand; the light orb at the wand tip floated lightly into the air, drawing all the room’s moths toward it and stirring a breeze that rustled their robes.
Several light orbs floated in the air, attracting all the light-seeking creatures while illuminating the entire room.
Thousands of night moths and bats darted through the light orbs—weak, ordinary creatures, but gathered together in synchronized flight patterns, their vast numbers created a stunning visual spectacle.
The little wizards looked up at the sight, eyes sparkling with surprise and awe.
“Gringotts recruits curses curers worldwide every year—do you know why?” Melvin asked from the side.
“Because they want to dig up gold in the ruins.” Lee’s mouth was faster than his brain.
“Because curses curers die in ancient wizards’ tombs every year.” Melvin’s tone was eerie, matching the moths and bats’ dance, chilling the students. “The goblins train new curses curers, and one rule is: don’t rashly enter sealed spaces without investigation.”
Recalling their own actions, the little wizards fell silent.
After all, they were just third-year students, and inside the school at that—letting their guard down was normal. Melvin didn’t belabor it. Watching their self-reflection, he cleared his throat lightly: “Scouting in unfamiliar environments is right, but don’t expose your position. When attacked, don’t panic. Weren’t you here to help me? Your task today is to use these moths’ phototaxis to catch them in the boxes.”
Cedric and the others then noticed several rough wooden boxes in the corner.
The third-year students busied themselves enthusiastically and soon found fun in it. Hermione followed Melvin to recover a few Dark Magic items, sometimes with others joining in.
Asked about these Dark Magic items’ functions, Melvin didn’t hide anything and explained them one by one:
“Suffocating Puppet—it attacks when people let their guard down. Made with poplar wood; when I bought it, it was nearly falling apart. I reinforced it simply with copper strips, but Quirrell still broke it. I’ll ask the merchant if it can be repaired.
“Opal Necklace—the curse aura is too strong; basic detection magic can spot it. If you encounter unfamiliar magical items in the future, don’t wear them recklessly. Form good habits early—some wizards live over a hundred years and still don’t get this reason, sigh…
“Hanged Man’s Noose—originates from the Impedimenta Charm improved into Dark Magic. Quirrell knew this spell. For rope attacks, don’t burn with fire—failing to incinerate it instantly is asking for trouble…”
Hermione visited the room again and noticed details she’d missed before: residual cobwebs in the corners that stuck to faces and were hard to clean—harmless but patience-draining; similar strange symbols everywhere that bred irritability after prolonged viewing.
Cleaning up and tidying took nearly an hour. The students’ curiosity was satisfied, Melvin saved some time, and teachers and students were all pleased.
After sending them out to the fourth-floor corridor, Melvin returned to the underground passage to pack the boxes, planning to resell the moth and bat crates to Professor Kettleburn. Upon entering, he saw a white-bearded old wizard leaning against the wall.
“…”
Dumbledore smiled mildly: “A splendid explanation—detailed, specific, and engaging. Melvin, interested in taking the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor position?”
“Not at all.”
“Regrettable…” Dumbledore’s tone and expression showed little regret, like a casual mention—failure was no big deal.
“Headmaster, you’re not just here about substitute teaching, right?”
“Nicolas Flamel is coming to Hogsmeade this weekend. He wants to talk to you about the Projection Mirror.”
