The welcoming feast had ended, and it was nearing midnight.
The castle didn't quiet down immediately.
After two months away, the students were buzzing with energy. On their way to the common rooms, they couldn't settle down—boys gathered in clusters, laughing and horsing around, while girls huddled together, chattering excitedly about their summer adventures.
Ghosts floated from one wall to another or slipped through suits of armor, barely noticing the difference themselves. But the shrieks of the young witches and wizards spurred them on.
It took Professor McGonagall calling out twice before the students finally calmed down a bit.
Melvin, unfazed by the commotion, returned to his room early. The castle's walls were thick with silencing charms—once he shut the door, the noise vanished completely.
He washed up in the bathroom, changed into light summer pajamas, slipped on a pair of slippers, and settled at his desk.
Opening a freshly received envelope, he scanned its contents quietly.
It was a formal letter from the Wizarding Examinations Authority, penned by Madam Marchbanks herself. The letter was lengthy but well-organized, spanning five parchment pages. The first four were filled with questions about scientific knowledge:
Does the universe have boundaries?
Can a damaged atmosphere be repaired with magic?
Why aren't whales fish, and why aren't bats birds?
Some questions came from Marchbanks, others from her colleagues at the Authority. Clearly, the encyclopedia craze was still going strong.
The final two pages held the main point.
"…Additionally, please document your course content, organize it, and send it to the Authority regularly. The committee will use your teaching materials to revise the examination guidelines."
According to Marchbanks' plan, fifth- and seventh-year students preparing for exams would continue with the existing curriculum, while third-, fourth-, and sixth-years would follow Melvin's new approach, facing updated exams next year.
Who knew a wizarding professor would have to write lesson plans?
Melvin responded point by point, promising to send monthly lesson plans and recommending a few books at the end—not children's encyclopedias this time, but science books for young adults.
Folding the letter and tucking it into an envelope to mail tomorrow, he pulled out a blank sheet of parchment and began drafting another.
This one was for Knockturn Alley. The deal from last time wasn't complete—the maps of wizarding settlements around Britain hadn't arrived yet. He wrote to nudge them along and updated the delivery address to the Hogsmeade Owl Post.
No way was he having those delivered to Hogwarts—that'd be as good as announcing his identity.
Finally, he reviewed the timetable Professor McGonagall had given him.
He had a class tomorrow morning, likely with third-years.
---
Hogwarts was a castle brimming with magic, its enchantment seeping from every corner.
In the Transfiguration classroom, that magic came from Professor McGonagall turning desks into squealing pigs with a flick of her wand. In the portraits, it was the painted witches and wizards popping in and out of frames, whispering to each other. The brick walls held their own magic—staircases shifted, doors moved, and a moment's distraction could leave you lost. Then there were the ghosts gliding about, students practicing spells, and house-elves lurking in corners…
First-years and new professors found it all thrilling. Veteran staff and students were used to it. Few wizards realized this wonder had persisted for over a thousand years, largely unchanged.
But that same magic, lacking innovation, showed signs of stagnation.
As Melvin navigated the shifting Defense staircase, he began to grasp its patterns. The novelty was already starting to fade.
Other newcomers likely felt the same.
"Don't think I haven't noticed you!"
A low, vaguely familiar voice made Melvin pause just before the staircase landing. Peeking around the corner, he saw Snape confronting Quirrell.
"You're keeping an eye on that boy, aren't you?"
"I… I d-don't…" Quirrell stammered, perhaps a lingering effect of Voldemort's influence, his stutter pronounced.
"You don't deny it?"
"I d-don't… know…" Quirrell struggled to clarify.
"Don't know what I mean?"
"Don't know you're watching him too."
"…"
Snape fixed him with a cold stare, clearly suspecting Quirrell was playing coy—especially since that last sentence came out perfectly clear.
Melvin pressed his lips together, unable to fully stifle a snort of amusement. The sound caught their attention, and both turned to look at him.
"Ahem…"
Melvin stepped casually around the corner. "Sorry to interrupt—could you point me to the Muggle Studies classroom? I'm still getting the hang of the castle."
Snape shot him an icy glare, said nothing, and swept downstairs.
Quirrell, though, offered directions, still stumbling over his words but clearer than before. "It's… j-just on this floor, t-turn right ahead, th-third room."
"Much appreciated."
Melvin smiled his thanks, watching Quirrell's retreating figure.
Snape, as unfriendly as ever. Quirrell, on the other hand—now there was a helpful professor.
The former Muggle Studies professor's directions were spot-on. Melvin followed the corridor, turned right, and found the classroom without trouble.
Class was a few minutes away, and the third-years were already there, chatting in groups. The boys were mostly speculating about why the fourth-floor corridor was suddenly sealed off, while the girls discussed Melvin's outfit from last night and his mentions in the Daily Prophet.
Melvin lingered outside for half a minute, picking up enough from their chatter to identify their houses and recognize a few notable faces.
Ding-dong…
The bell rang, and the classroom fell silent. Melvin pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The professor was dressed in Muggle attire: a cypress-green blazer over a jet-black shirt, with a notched lapel casually turned up. The blended fabric draped naturally, its lines soft but maintaining a slightly loose fit. The gentle folds gave off a relaxed yet refined air.
Several young witches' eyes lit up.
Even the boys noticed—this professor was kind of cool.
"Melvin… Lewent…"
The students' gazes followed the chalk as it scratched out the professor's name on the blackboard, some murmuring it under their breath.
It was a rather ordinary introduction. By comparison, Professor McGonagall transformed the entire blackboard for hers, Professor Flitwick used glowing charms to write his name, and even Professor Sprout once had Venomous Tentacula vines spell out her surname.
What about Professor Snape?
He didn't bother with introductions.
This professor's opening felt a bit… Muggle.
Melvin finished writing his name and tossed the chalk onto the desk. "I'm sure many of you saw this name in your Hogwarts letters, or maybe in The Daily Prophet. Some of you who don't read the paper might have questions about the changes to this course…
"You've got five minutes to ask me anything."
The young witches and wizards' eyes sparkled.
Professors usually grilled them with questions to introduce the subject. This was the first time a professor invited them to ask.
It felt like a conversation between equals.
The novel approach sparked their curiosity, making the new professor seem more approachable.
Swish!
A girl was the first to shoot up her hand, claiming the opening question.
"You, second row, go ahead."
"Professor, are you really from Ilvermorny?"
"Not a very interesting question, but yes."
"…"
"Next, the boy beside her."
"Uh… Professor, why did you drop out?"
"Now that's a good question. I thought more people would ask, so I prepared plenty of answers, but no one's bothered—not even Headmaster Dumbledore when he hired me. I suspect he forgot."
His playful tone drew soft chuckles from the room. Melvin waited for the laughter to settle before continuing. "The formal answer is: I'd completed most of my studies, and the last six months were just review for exams. I wanted to see the wider world, test what I'd learned, observe, experience, and explore. My head was full of ideas waiting to be put into practice, and a diploma didn't mean much to me. Dropping out just made sense."
The students fell quiet.
A Gryffindor girl raised her hand. "Professor, what's the less formal answer?"
"The less formal answer…" Melvin paused, grinning. "The world's a big place, and I wanted to see it."
Laughter rippled through the classroom.
Some students' eyes flickered, lost in thought.
"Dropping out was a tough call. I was certain I had a clear plan or enough luck to seize the right opportunities. But I don't recommend following my example. If I hear any of you talking about dropping out, I'll owl your parents and suggest they confiscate your wands and ground you."
The room's atmosphere grew a touch more serious, and Melvin nodded, satisfied.
"Professor, what's Ilvermorny like?"
"It's a lot like Hogwarts—four houses, boarding system. The courses are different, and the teaching style varies a bit. If you want to learn more about other magical schools, I recommend a few books you can find in the library: The Crisis of Magical Education, How Magical Schools Shape Wizarding Society, and A School in the Desert: The Struggle for Afghan Witch Education…"
"Professor Lewent, how's the new curriculum different from the old one? What are we learning?"
"You'll find out soon enough. It's not something I can sum up in a sentence or two."
"Professor! You can tell us about other stuff later, but you have to answer this now!"
"Go ahead."
"How much homework will there be? Is it hard?"
"That depends on how you do in class."
"Professor, I heard you're an advisor to the Wizarding Examinations Authority. Are you setting the exam questions?"
"Don't think I don't see through you—focus on studying."
"…"
The five-minute Q&A ended quickly, leaving the students wanting more. They'd asked plenty but felt like they hadn't gotten much, though it definitely brought them closer to their new professor.
A theoretical course like Muggle Studies, which many had approached with the same indifference as History of Magic, suddenly seemed worth paying attention to.
"Now that you know me, it's my turn…"
Melvin pulled up a chair, sat beside the lectern, and met the students' gazes. He pointed to the girl in the front row, far right. "Starting with you. Name, house, and why you chose this class."
Another novel experience!
The students' eyes gleamed.
Muggle-born students might have done this before, but never at a magical school. It felt delightfully strange.
"I'm Alicia Spinner, Gryffindor."
The girl was nervous but emboldened by the earlier exchange. "I'm Muggle-born, so I thought this class would be easy—a quick way to earn another certificate."
Melvin wasn't surprised. He'd been a student once and knew most thought the same.
He waved her to sit and pointed to the next girl. "You're up."
"Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor. Alicia's my roommate, and she dragged me along."
"I'm Lee Jordan, Gryffindor. I like Angelina, so where she goes, I go."
The boy with dreadlocks didn't hold back, sparking a burst of laughter across the room.
Angelina rolled her eyes at him.
"…"
"Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff. I'm curious about Muggle culture and want to learn more. I might keep taking it if it's interesting, but if my other classes get too heavy, I could drop the advanced course in fifth year."
"…"
"Roger Davies, Ravenclaw. I feel the same as Cedric."
"…"
"Cassius Warrington, Slytherin. My father told me to take it—it'll help me get into the Ministry after graduation."
"…"
The Muggle Studies elective had a decent number of students, most choosing it for similar reasons: it seemed easy, good for a certificate, or they were tagging along with friends or crushes. Only a few were genuinely curious about Muggle culture, and even they didn't see it as a serious subject.
Slytherin students were the fewest but the most resolute, with clear, unapologetic goals.
No one found this surprising—it was normal in the wizarding world, especially among pure-blood circles.
After the final student introduced themselves, Melvin stood, offering no judgment on their reasons. "One question: did you all know each other before? Mr. Diggory, you answer."
Cedric thought for a moment. "I know everyone in Hufflepuff, most of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. I recognize a few Slytherin Quidditch players, but the rest are just familiar faces—I don't know their names."
In the first two years, core classes paired two houses together, so most students in the same year had shared lessons. Hufflepuff got along with everyone, but Slytherin kept their distance.
"Got it," Melvin said, unsurprised. "Those I name, come help me fetch textbooks from the library storeroom. Everyone else, stay here and get to know each other.
"Cedric Diggory, Lee Jordan, Roger Davies, Cassius Warrington…"
The young professor had memorized their names after hearing them once.
---