"???"
Vincent nearly lost his composure entirely.
He was silent for a moment, then composed himself and asked, "So you got into a confrontation with him?"
"Not exactly."
Stephen shook his head. "The truth is, I didn't know it was my family's ancestral tomb until we were already inside." He looked at his own hands. "God help me. I dug open my own ancestors' grave with these hands. No wonder their evil spirits were so furious."
"Evil spirits?"
"That's right. Not long after we entered the vault, we were attacked by one — demigod-tier at the very least. That attorney Dolin didn't last long; the evil spirit drained him of his blood."
Stephen pulled a letter from his pocket and held it out. "But before he died, he handed me this. He asked me to pass it on to whoever comes to Dolin & Associates to take his place. If they pass the test, they can join his organisation and grow faster."
Vincent took it and opened it. He heard Stephen say, "The organisation he mentioned... is the Moses Ascetic Order."
"..."
Vincent's hand stilled. He read — and there on the paper was a pair of eyes. Eyes without eyelashes. Cold. Indifferent. Almost transparent.
Good grief.
This was, if anything, absurd in the purest possible sense of the word — the punchline had come full circle and knocked itself right on the head.
· ·
The Harry Potter world.
Bernadette opened her eyes to a strange stone ceiling, disoriented, unsure for a moment where she was. Only when a faint sting flared at her temples again did everything snap back into place.
She moved at once into the mysterious room, crossing quickly to the table by the door — but the surface was smooth and undisturbed. Not a single mark.
This was within expectations. From what she had gathered, the furniture repaired itself within a minute of anything being carved into it at most. For either of them to see the other's message, they would have to time their entries exactly right.
To manage that, they would need to agree on a fixed time — and then account for the fact that time ran at different speeds in the two worlds, which only made things more complicated.
So paper and something to write with remained the best solution.
Since the room had none, could they be brought in from reality?
She returned to reality, took up the quill and parchment from the desk, and gave a precise mental instruction: bring the quill and parchment into the mysterious room with me.
When she entered again, the items had not come through.
Of course not. What entered this place had always been her soul. The quill and parchment were physical objects — they had no way of crossing over.
Was there truly no other method for real-time communication then?
After a while, she shook her head and set it aside for now. The mysterious room was clearly bound to that man — he was the dominant one here. Perhaps he would have some idea.
For now she had to do her job, play the man's role, and get through today's lessons — then go to the library to look for books on learning Roselle's script.
She glanced up at the clock on the wall and leaped to her feet.
She was late!!
· ·
In the Muggle Studies classroom, the combined third-year Slytherin and Gryffindor class had arrived early, their anticipation wound tight after a week of hearing classmate after classmate lavish praise on the films. They had been restless with impatience.
Even the Weasley twins — normally the most incorrigible troublemakers in the school — were uncommonly subdued. Though what was really keeping them quiet wasn't only the film. It was the six or seven stone-faced men and women seated at the back of the classroom, and the presence of Headmaster Dumbledore, sitting there with his habitual smile.
These men and women — the twins recognised a few of them — were from the prominent pure-blood families that bore the proud title of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. The Weasley family was technically among their number, though their father Arthur thought nothing of it, calling the whole business a bunch of old fossils gilding their own crests.
All show, no substance.
Of course, everything was relative — the people seated at the back were, by and large, Hogwarts governors, here specifically, it was said, to assess Professor Vincent.
But it was plain that the professor who'd been showing films for a week straight didn't particularly care: he was already nearly fifteen minutes late.
"Brilliant!" the Weasley twins exchanged a glance, both eyes alight with admiration. "No wonder Professor Vincent got expelled in his day — he's this casual as a teacher. Can you imagine what he was like as a student?!"
George cupped his chin. "I think we need to go and ask the Professor for some pointers!"
"Exactly!"
The twins slapped palms in cheerful agreement.
"Dumbledore."
A man in his mid-forties with a head of golden hair struck the floor sharply with his cane. "This is the Muggle Studies professor you were so determined to hire? Setting aside whether he's capable — this attitude alone makes him unfit to teach at Hogwarts!"
Dumbledore was unhurried. "Oh, Thaddeus, I expect Vincent deliberately took a little extra time to prepare himself a more impressive entrance. He probably wanted to give you all a proper show."
"Oh?" The golden-haired man — Thaddeus — said coldly. "We decided to visit Hogwarts on the spur of the moment. How could he have known?"
"Perhaps... a meeting of minds?"
At that, a grey-haired woman snorted with contempt. "More likely he's simply too frightened to come!"
"Hmph. To avoid facing us, he won't even show up to his own lesson."
"He was always a coward."
"Quite! Ha ha ha ha!"
Dumbledore's smile faded. The look in his eyes behind his spectacles turned grave. "Do you all genuinely find this amusing? When you were students here, I don't believe I taught you to behave this way."
"..."
In an instant, it was as though everyone in the room had been seized by the throat. The laughter died without a sound.
Creak.
At that moment, the classroom door swung open.
Bernadette walked in, one hand holding the items Vincent had prepared for her, the other gripping the "walking staff," her expression cool as she stepped up to the lectern and looked down at the assembled room.
"Please, go on," she said evenly. "Why did you all stop?"
Everyone: "..."
Wasn't this Professor Vincent... rather different from how others had described him?
Bernadette's gaze swept the room. "I heard long ago that you were Hogwarts's most unruly students. So I made a point of being deliberately late by a few minutes."
"And in those few minutes — just look at the state you've all worked yourselves into."
Thud!
She slammed the items she was holding down onto the desk.
The whole room fell blank. The silence was so complete, not even breathing could be heard — What? Something feels wrong here. Wait — you were the one who was late. How is it somehow our fault?
Right then. Having spent some time in Lumburg, Bernadette was more than familiar with the teacher's trick of striking first to claim the moral high ground, turning nothing into something — and it worked beautifully on children.
Hmm?
What was going on in the back row? Those faces looked remarkably... old. Held back, were they?
Err — wait, was that Dumbledore?
Maintaining her composure through the confusion, Bernadette looked toward them. "Headmaster, what brings you here? And these guests are...?"
"Oh, they're Hogwarts governors — here to observe your lesson. Just pretend they aren't there."
Bernadette: And why are you winking at me?
Dumbledore assumed his cheerfully unhurried manner again, and said to Thaddeus with every appearance of earnestness, "Oh, young people just have different ideas — it turns out Vincent's lateness was intentional. Ha ha ha ha."
The governors: Do you think we're children too?
By now Bernadette had sensed the hostility and contempt radiating from the people around Dumbledore. She understood at once. Her gaze moved across the young witches and wizards.
"I hope this is the first and last time," she said flatly.
"Class will now formally begin."
Bernadette opened the textbook. "Starting today, I'm going to ask you to look at 'Muggles' afresh."
She wasn't remotely interested in actually teaching — that man's scepticism about her abilities she resented, but she genuinely had no interest in the classroom. She knew perfectly well what she had come to this world to accomplish.
Her original plan had been to follow the man's suggestion: say a few brief words and play a film, then sit to one side and read. But with the Headmaster and governors here, that seemed too perfunctory.
"What is a Muggle?" She answered her own question. "Simply put, it's what people generally call an ordinary person who cannot perform magic. The term, from its very origins, was a contemptuous label — wizards looking down on ordinary people."
"Of course, it remains an impolite word to this day."
Bernadette tapped the desk lightly. "I raise this because I want to put a question to you. If wizards look down on Muggles, why do they simultaneously hide their existence, live under assumed identities, and make sure Muggles never know they exist?"
"Because of the International Statute of Secrecy of 1689, obviously."
The answer came not from a student but from one of the men at the back, who wore an expression of polite contempt. "Professor Vincent — Hogwarts is paying your salary, not to have you recite things every schoolchild already knows."
Bernadette said mildly, "And yet why would proud, elevated wizards sign a treaty that so thoroughly 'surrendered their sovereignty' — forcing wizarding folk to hide away like mice in corners unknown to the world? Was the outside world simply too big, and the living conditions not to their taste?"
The golden-haired Thaddeus said coldly, "Are you questioning the Statute's existence? Are you expressing discontent with the Ministry? Oh, I should warn Fudge about this — before you do to the Ministry what you did when you were expelled from this very school!"
Hubbub!
This explosive revelation sent a ripple of noise through the room.
The professor teaching them had been expelled from Hogwarts?! What had he done?!
Was this a big deal?
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses gently. "Thaddeus, I must point out that what you just said constitutes an irresponsible accusation."
"Hmph. I rather think he knows perfectly well what I mean."
Bernadette met his gaze, then suddenly shifted — picked up the staff, and walked directly toward him.
The movement startled several people, but inwardly they felt a surge of excitement: this was exactly the reaction they had been angling for. Get Vincent angry enough to act rashly, and they would have grounds to deal with him — perhaps even have him thrown straight into Azkaban.
Thud.
Bernadette stopped beside Thaddeus — and did nothing.
She simply continued speaking:
"Back to the subject of Muggles."
"Hogwarts offers Muggle Studies not so that you can stand on high and pass judgement on ordinary people, or perhaps find amusement in ordinary people's 'limitations,' viewed from a wizard's perspective."
"The truth is, the majority of magic that wizards take such pleasure in — Muggles have long since achieved through their own means, and done it better."
"As small a thing as — Lumos!"
As she murmured the incantation, the people nearest to her were suddenly, totally blinded, and cried out in shock.
"Professor Vincent, you're attacking us!!"
"Aah!! My eyes!"
A few seconds later, Bernadette lifted the charm, and looked at them with apparent confusion. "I beg your pardon? I was only demonstrating the Lumos charm."
· ·
To be continued…