"I? A Hogwarts professor?"
Melvin froze for a moment.
"A Muggle Studies professor."
Dumbledore nodded, smiling as he explained, "The course was originally taught by Professor Quirinus Quirrell, but he's shifted his focus and will be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts next term. I've been searching for a new Muggle Studies professor, and after seeing your plays and learning about your achievements, I believe you're an excellent fit."
Melvin wasn't swayed by the flattery. Recalling the Ghostly Gazette column about himself, his expression turned wry. "I can't imagine what makes me so suitable."
"First of all, your academic record is outstanding."
"You do know I never completed my education, right?"
"No need to dwell on rigid evaluations, Mr. Levent," Dumbledore said calmly. "In my view, your accomplishments speak for themselves."
Dumbledore continued at an unhurried pace. "Since Madam Seraphina Picquery graduated, you're the only one to have earned the approval of all four Ilvermorny houses. You excelled during your time there, and interviews with your professors show they hold you in high regard. Headmaster Agilbert Fontaine mentioned that, while you didn't take the Ultimate Wizarding Level exams, you earned full marks across the board in your Ordinary Wizarding Level tests.
"You've made a name for yourself in the Muggle world, skillfully blending magic with Muggle techniques while carefully navigating the boundaries of the International Statute of Secrecy. That's exactly what our students need."
"…"
Nicolas Flamel remained silent, though his expression was peculiar.
Albus is still the same, Flamel thought. An hour ago, he was flipping through the Ghostly Gazette for news, and now he's acting like he knows everything.
"Headmaster Fontaine never holds back his praise—he's like that with all his students," Melvin said, neither refusing nor accepting the offer outright. "I'm honored by the invitation, but this is all so sudden. I need some time to think it over."
Dumbledore didn't press him and tactfully prepared to leave. "I hope I'll still have the chance to enjoy your marvelous performance next weekend."
"Then I'll see you next week," Melvin replied. "I'll have Claire reserve the best seats for you. Sweet dreams tonight, gentlemen."
"Thank you for the moonstone," Dumbledore added.
"…"
As they stepped out of the theater, the neon streetlights glowed brightly, the view opening up under the midsummer night's breeze, carrying the faint scent of gasoline and dust.
The two peculiar-looking old men walked down the street, unnoticed by passersby, who seemed to instinctively avoid them without realizing it.
"Let's go," Dumbledore said, holding a can of soda, clearly delighted by the Muggle vending machine—a marvelous invention.
Their steps were slow, yet they moved with uncanny speed. One moment they were at the street's start; the next, they were at its end.
Nicolas Flamel's expression turned thoughtful. "Hogwarts has never had a foreign professor, Albus. Why did you suddenly invite this young Mr. Levent?"
"That's a misconception. Hogwarts has had many foreign professors, most from Beauxbatons," Dumbledore replied.
"You're dodging my question."
"Because Mr. Levent has a curious connection to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. "Did you notice his ring?"
Flamel paused, his pale eyes glinting with a silvery sheen as he sifted through his memories. He recalled the young wizard's left ring finger, adorned with a matte black ring. It lacked any precious gems or intricate engravings, bearing only faint patterns—utterly unremarkable. Yet, with centuries of alchemical expertise, Flamel couldn't identify the ring's material.
His eyes narrowed as he studied the memory, finally spotting faint traces in the patterns that felt familiar.
"Is that… Slytherin's crest?"
"Burp…"
…
Gershwin Theater
The actors and staff had already left.
The corridor was silent, save for the soft ticking of a wall clock in the office, where a crystal chandelier cast a gentle glow.
Melvin glanced out the window, then at the clock, his thoughts drifting with the play of light and shadow.
Dumbledore and Flamel—one the most powerful wizard of the age, the other an alchemist who'd watched centuries unfold—had been surprisingly warm and approachable. They invited him because of his familiarity with the Muggle world, yet despite knowing his past was riddled with mysteries, they hadn't pried or shown any signs of Legilimency.
At least, none that he could detect.
His eyes fell on the desk calendar: Summer 1991, the moment the story begins…
No matter how progressive Ilvermorny was, the American wizarding world was shaped by the 17th-century Salem Witch Trials, the Scourer uprisings, and the 1926 New York riots. The Magical Congress of the United States enforced a stringent International Statute of Secrecy.
The last time he'd faced a trial, he'd outwitted the Aurors and judges. But that might mean even stricter scrutiny in the future…
No matter the state of the Muggle world, Britain remained the heart of wizarding culture. The British Ministry of Magic held more sway than MACUSA, and its environment was better suited for him to plant seeds and harvest power.
Click.
Midnight struck, the mechanical gears of the clock grinding loudly.
Melvin pushed aside his swirling thoughts and began clearing the tea set from his desk when he noticed something under one of the cups—a glinting gold coin.
He picked it up. It was cold, heavy, and exquisitely crafted.
Not Muggle currency, nor a Galleon from Gringotts, but a coin from before the Goblin Rebellions, when the Goblin Kingdom was intact. Minted from pure gold, it weighed about 1.7 ounces.
As a discontinued relic, its collectible value far exceeded its nominal worth. Even the greediest goblin at Gringotts would soften at the sight of it.
Clink…
He flicked the coin into the air, its polished surface catching the light with a dazzling metallic gleam.
What tempting wealth.
…
One Week Later
"I didn't expect Hogwarts to offer such a generous relocation package for foreign professors."
Melvin finished reading the Hogwarts employment contract and looked up at the two elderly wizards, a strange feeling stirring within him.
"It's only right," Dumbledore said with pride. "Hogwarts is a home for its teachers and students."
"…"
If you say so.
Melvin closed the parchment, its cover bearing the Hogwarts crest. "I have no issues with the terms. The benefits are generous, but I need to clarify a few personal matters."
"Go ahead."
"Teaching won't consume all my time. At Hogwarts, I'd like to continue pursuing my own work."
Noticing Dumbledore's slightly narrowed eyes, Melvin paused and clarified, "Nothing to do with the Dark Arts, of course. It's about stage plays—writing stories for wizards and exploring magical art forms."
"Wonderful!" Dumbledore's face lit up with a bright smile. "Hogwarts has its own ghost troupe, and there used to be a student drama club. I even performed in one during my school days, though it was a disaster… The school would love to have a professional like you. Trust me, the students and staff will be thrilled to see a drama society revived."
Dumbledore's enthusiasm nearly made Melvin agree on the spot, but he held back. "I also have some ideas about the curriculum."
"Oh?" Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with interest.
The Heirs of Slytherin: The Gaunt Family
As direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, the Gaunt family was listed among the Sacred Twenty-Eight in 1930. To preserve their pure-blood lineage, they practiced inbreeding for generations. Once immensely wealthy, the Gaunts squandered their fortune through reckless extravagance. The family produced many restless and unstable vagrants, notorious for their erratic behavior and violent tendencies.
Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley once held a collection of silver artifacts sold by the Slytherin family, many engraved with ouroboros, kundalini, and merkabah symbols, combined with Slytherin's distinctive [S] crest.
All Gaunt family items were removed from display after 1947, with shop clerks claiming they were stolen by Death Eaters.