At ten in the morning, students and professors were settling into the rhythm of the new term. The corridors of Hogwarts were quiet, especially near the library, where the only sound was the soft echo of footsteps.
The Muggle Studies students found it novel to be called out mid-lesson to fetch textbooks—a first for them.
Melvin strolled leisurely beside them.
"Professor," Cedric from Hufflepuff turned to him, hesitating before asking, "Is there something magical about this term's textbooks? Do they need multiple people to carry them?"
The others slowed their pace, curious as well.
"No magic. They're Muggle-published books."
"Can we use a Levitation Charm to move them?" Cedric asked.
"Probably."
"Then why…?"
Ruling out the idea that the professor couldn't cast a Levitation Charm, they couldn't figure out another reason.
Cedric glanced at the other three students. He'd noticed a pattern when they left the classroom: one student from each house.
"Because I need guides," Melvin said with a wink. "I've only been at Hogwarts a few hours longer than the first-years. I don't know where the library is, and these staircases and doors are a maze. If something went wrong, you'd all be gossiping over dinner about how Professor Levent got lost in the corridors during class."
Cedric chuckled. "No way."
The others chimed in, their tones oddly cheerful. Even Cassius Warrington from Slytherin cracked a smile.
Lee Jordan still had questions. "If it's just for directions, why not just ask Cedric? Why four of us?"
"I told you, we're moving books."
"We're actually moving them?"
"Yup."
"But what about the Levitation Charm?"
"Dumbledore himself stressed the rules: no casting spells in the corridors."
"That's just Filch hassling students. Professors don't have to follow that."
"Less talking, more energy for carrying books."
"Ugh…"
The package from Flourish and Blotts had been signed for by Madam Pince. Unlike magical textbooks that might wiggle or scream, these Muggle books were docile. Fearing they'd be torn apart by enchanted tomes, Pince stored them in a room beside the library.
The books' binding stood out from typical magical textbooks. Standard coursebooks used yellowed parchment with canvas or linen covers. These, however, were printed on glossy paper with soy-based ink, the text crisp and edges neat, sealed with a smooth plastic film. Vibrant and sleek, they were nothing like magical books.
When Cedric and the others stepped into the storage room and saw the pristine books, their eyes lit up. "These are our textbooks?"
Melvin smiled. "Not exactly textbooks. Reference books."
"I'll take good care of them," Lee Jordan said, gently touching one, almost afraid to press too hard.
"Aren't you a half-blood? Haven't you seen books like these?" Melvin asked.
"I've been at Hogwarts, using magical textbooks."
"No reading over the holidays?"
"It's a holiday! Who reads then?" Lee said proudly.
"Not sure why you sound so smug…" Melvin laughed. "Stop petting them. Let's move the books and get back to class."
"Yes, Professor!"
The encyclopedias were hefty, but with only a small third-year elective class, splitting the load among four wasn't too taxing.
Fueled by enthusiasm, they quickly counted the books, each grabbing a stack and wobbling back to the classroom.
---
Back in the classroom, it was a lively scene.
Hogwarts classrooms were well soundproofed, and with no assigned seats in Muggle Studies, students sat with friends from their own houses. The moment the professor stepped out, the room buzzed with chatter about Ilvermorny, Muggle Studies, exams, and homework…
Some students even commented on Melvin's outfit.
When Cedric and the others returned, lugging four stacks of books and setting them on the front desk with a thud, the room fell silent.
Seeing the students eyeing the books eagerly, Melvin strolled to the front, waving Cedric and the others back to their seats. "I asked you to get to know each other while I was gone. How's that going?"
"…"
The students blinked.
What? That wasn't just polite small talk?
"No answers? Alright, I'll call on a few to test your progress."
Melvin's words sent a ripple of nerves through the room. He scanned the class, pausing thoughtfully. "You don't have student numbers, so let's number the seats. Left side, first seat is number 1, then 2, 3, and so on. Clear enough?"
The students nodded, catching his drift.
"Then, number 2, Miss Johnson, you're up first."
"…"
Angelina looked blank, still processing.
"What's the name of the boy in the second row of Slytherin?"
Angelina glanced at the boy, her mind racing. She vaguely recalled his introduction—Slytherin, a Chaser, maybe? Not Warrington, not Flint…
"Five-second countdown. No answer, there's a penalty."
Angelina's eyes widened in panic, staring at the Slytherin boy, racking her brain for classes they'd shared.
"Five, four, three…"
"Graham Montague!"
Angelina exhaled, relieved. She'd remembered at the last second—he'd been chewed out by Snape in Potions once.
"You pass. Next… let's see, who's next?"
The students' eyes widened, a mix of nerves and excitement. This style of questioning was oddly fun.
"Number 6, Mr. Lestrange, what's the name of the Ravenclaw girl in the third row?"
"…"
"Time's up. Sorry, Mr. Lestrange, you're getting a penalty. Come to the front and perform for us."
"I… I don't know any performances."
"I can offer some minor assistance if you insist."
"Like what?"
"Like a Tarantallegra jinx or a Howling Hex."
"No, thanks."
Lestrange's body trembled, his face crumpling. Those weren't dark magic, but one would make him dance uncontrollably, and the other would have him wailing like a banshee.
Under the class's sympathetic gazes, Lestrange sang a wizarding song, Celestina Warbeck's A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love—his mother's favorite, apparently.
"Applause for Mr. Lestrange. His performance was memorable.
"Next up…"
The previously excited students ducked their heads, avoiding Melvin's gaze, holding their breath and praying not to be called. Their heartbeats thumped loudly in their ears.
Some frantically whispered to nearby friends, trying to memorize names of classmates they didn't know.
A few thoughtful students began to sense a pattern.
"Number 10, Mr. Preece from Hufflepuff…"
As Preece answered, the Ravenclaws relaxed, but number 18, Samuels, tensed up.
"Next, number 14, Mr. Appleby from Hufflepuff."
Now most of the class caught on. Hogwarts might not teach math, but other subjects touched on basic calculations.
2, 6, 10, 14…
An arithmetic sequence with a common difference of 4. The pattern was obvious.
"Next…"
As number 18, Samuels, braced himself, heart pounding, Melvin called out, "Number 7, Miss Stimpson from Gryffindor."
"!!"
Patricia Stimpson, who'd just relaxed, felt her breath catch, her heart hammering louder than a drum.
Wasn't it supposed to be 18!?
Caught off guard, Patricia shakily sang You Stole My Heart with Magic, her voice trembling.
As she sang, the class glanced at seat 18. Ravenclaw's Samuels, fists clenched and ready to stand, realized he'd dodged a bullet. He blinked in confusion, staring at Stimpson.
Onstage, Patricia looked utterly defeated.
Professor Levent was mean…
"Next, number 33, Slytherin's Travers…"
Travers wasn't ready, but luckily, the person Melvin picked was a pure-blood he'd met at a banquet, so he escaped punishment.
Melvin sighed, looking faintly disappointed.
"Next…"
He drew out the word, his gaze sweeping the room.
The students panicked.
Oh no! He's abandoned the pattern and gone random!
At seat 18, Ravenclaw's Samuels relaxed, thinking he was safe now that the sequence was gone. But then Melvin's devilish whisper reached his ears.
"Number 18, Samuels, your turn."
"!!"
I thought I was safe!
Samuels' breath hitched, his heart racing. It had spiked too many times today, and now it felt exhausted.
His heart was taking a beating, like being strapped to a runaway broom, soaring and plunging before crashing into the Muggle Studies chalkboard.
"What's the name of the girl in the middle of the fourth row?"
"Fawcett, sir."
"Well done."
"Phew…"
Samuels slumped, relieved. He'd answered correctly, but somehow it still felt like a punishment—or rather, a prank worse than anything the Weasley twins could dream up.
What a shame they didn't take Muggle Studies.
After the ordeal, the class felt like they'd survived an adventure together. They actually knew each other's names now.
Before they could grumble about the professor, the glossy new encyclopedias were passed out. Their elegant binding felt like art, the vibrant colors captivating. Flipping them open, the students were immediately drawn to illustrations they'd never seen before:
A dazzling cosmic starry sky;
Intricate molecular structures;
Detailed anatomical diagrams…
The little wizards were visually stunned, and the Muggle science inside challenged their understanding of the world.
---
At noon, lunchtime.
After two months of summer, even the dullest subjects like History of Magic and Potions felt fresh and exciting. Even Snape's icy demeanor seemed almost… friendly.
The new school year had just begun, and the young witches and wizards were buzzing with energy, gathering in the Great Hall to chat about their morning classes.
Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table.
Nearby, Harry and Ron, mouths full of roast chicken drumsticks, couldn't stop talking.
"McGonagall's a Transfiguration genius, but we're not. How are we supposed to turn a matchstick into a needle on the first day?"
"Well… Granger did it, didn't she?"
"She's a bookworm."
Harry glanced at the girl nearby, whispering, "Don't say that…"
Hermione focused on cutting her steak. She'd been ready to explain how to flick a wand properly to turn a matchstick into a silver needle if they'd asked.
Not anymore—unless they begged for help!
Just then, the Weasley twins approached, carrying a beautifully bound tome packed with vivid illustrations, so many they couldn't take them all in.
"No wonder Dad's modified torch doesn't work."
"Oh…"
"What are you looking at?" Ron immediately noticed his brothers and the hefty book. "Why doesn't Dad's torch work?"
George and Fred, engrossed in the book, snapped it shut as Ron leaned in, guarding it protectively, not even letting him see the cover.
"Let me see!"
"Little Ronnie, snooping's not polite."
"Let me see!"
"Say 'please' to your brothers."
"…"
Harry rolled his eyes at the twins teasing Ron.
Hermione double-checked the book's title, then paused, scanning the hall.
At all four house tables, several encyclopedias were scattered. The students of the magical school were abuzz, discussing basic science like it was more wondrous than magic.
Hermione listened closely.
Apparently, these were Professor Levent's teaching materials. Only the third-years had Muggle Studies this morning, so curious students were borrowing their books. Over the next few days, older students would start their classes…
That was the gist of it. The rest was chatter about Professor Levent's novel teaching style, his prank-like quizzes, and the unfortunate singing performances of a few classmates.
"Professor Levent…"
Hermione's curiosity grew.