Hogwarts: Who made her a professor?

Chapter 18 Some Casual Remarks

Hannah Abbott, the iron-willed girl, was a rosy-cheeked little girl with two golden braids.

This little girl, also from the Holy Twenty-Eight, was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff by the Sorting Hat, where the badgers applauded enthusiastically to welcome their new junior.

Terry Boot then joined Ravenclaw, and several well-mannered eagles stood up to shake his hand and welcome him.

The first freshman to join Gryffindor was Lavender Brown, the future Gryffindor kissing goddess who was just a little girl at the time, stumbling toward the long table where she banged on the table and bowls.

Meanwhile, Slytherin welcomed another pure-blood wizard. Milison Burstir proudly walked toward the long table, nodding frequently to familiar faces.

The complaints from the teachers' seats continue.

"I've never felt the Sorting Ceremony could be so long before, and the alphabetical order is so ridiculous!" exclaimed Bassheda Bablin, her eyes brimming with anticipation.

Harry Potter stood among the new students, yet hesitated to appear, thus prolonging the biggest suspense of the night.

Hermione Granger.

Upon hearing the name, Belvina sat up straight, intrigued by the brave, somewhat reckless, little girl.

"Who is she?" Bassheda asked. "It's rare to see you so interested in someone. Did you meet her on the train?"

Belvina nodded and said, "Yes, a very smart and interesting little girl. The way she recites her lessons reminds me of when I first met you. You were like that back then, always wanting to memorize your textbooks."

"You're about the same!" Bassheda pouted. "When I first met you, you were already reciting the 'Standard Spells - Beginner'. I almost mistook you for a precocious freshman!"

This is a funny story about Belvina and Bassheda, two academic high-achievers who didn't do well on exams.

Hermione jogged to the stool, hurriedly put on her hat, and the Sorting Hat immediately announced her house: "Gryffindor!"

As the Sorting Ceremony proceeded, one freshman after another put on the Sorting Hat. Neville Longbottom, the round-faced crybaby, even tripped and fell, and it took the Sorting Hat a long time to send him to Gryffindor.

"Draco Malfoy!"

Professor Minerva McGonagall announced loudly.

Bassheda, sitting in the teachers' section, nudged Belvina and whispered, "Look, it's your nephew."

"My dear nephew got into a fight with Mr. Potter on the train," Belvina said irritably. She was hungry, and people are usually in a bad mood when they're hungry. "And he's definitely going to be sorted into Slytherin. He's a carbon copy of his father."

Seemingly to confirm the accuracy of Belvina's prophecy, the Sorting Hat shouted "Slytherin" before it even touched Draco's head.

"See, there's not a single mistake." Belvina shrugged, with an expression that said, "I knew it all along."

It must be admitted that the Malfoy family genes are very strong. Draco, a descendant of a thousand acres of land, is nothing like his maternal family. He has almost no trace of the Black family.

Finally, after a pair of twin sisters from the jewel in the Queen's crown, Harry Potter's name appeared.

Everyone in the auditorium craned their necks, eagerly awaiting the Sorting Hat's final decision.

Belvina saw Professor Flitwick fixing his awful hair, Professor Sprout muttering to himself while crossing his fingers, and Professor McGonagall, usually so serious, showing a hint of nervousness—

And then there's Severus Snape, whose deep eyes are fixed on Harry, unmoving and unblinking, making Belvina want to run over and gouge his eyes out, to let him know the wickedness of the world.

One minute passed... two minutes passed... several minutes passed...

The Sorting Hat seems to know exactly how to grab attention; Harry's whereabouts remain a mystery, and everyone eagerly awaiting its return is itching to give it a good scrub.

"Gryffindor!"

Cheers that could have lifted the ceiling erupted in the Great Hall. The Gryffindor lion cubs were overjoyed, clapping and stomping their feet excitedly, making the plates on the table almost fly.

"We have Potter! We have Potter!"

Led by the Weasley twins, the Gryffindor lion cubs sang and danced as if the England Quidditch national team had won the World Cup.

In contrast, the other three houses—Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw—though disappointed, still applauded Gryffindor in celebration. Slytherin, however, displayed a complete lack of gentlemanly manners, each one wearing a sour expression. They could live without Harry Potter, but they couldn't tolerate Gryffindor getting him!

These two academies, which have been locked in a love-hate relationship for nearly a thousand years, are just that twisted.

The students' performance was also reflected in the faculty seats. Professors Flitwick and Sprout applauded with great pomp, Snape's face was as sour as an old lady's stinking sauce vat, and Professor McGonagall looked radiant, as if she had suddenly become more than ten years younger.

At the other end of the teachers' section, Rupert Hagrid clenched his fists in excitement, while Basilda and Paul Bernard sighed in despair.

Belvina, on the other hand, was indifferent. She had no intention of befriending Harry, nor did she have any desire to revolve around the child. She also had no intention of distancing herself from Harry, as that would be unwise. She would just let things take their natural course.

Bashida, heartbroken at losing the bet, pulled out a Galleon and slapped it hard into Belvina's outstretched palm. Paul, equally honoring his loss, quietly slipped the Galleon to Hagrid, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"I knew it! Harry's definitely Gryffindor!" Hagrid exclaimed excitedly. "James and Lily are Gryffindors, and so are they and Xiao Tian..."

Hagrid suddenly stopped halfway through his speech, his beetle-like eyes quickly glancing at Belvina before shrinking into a mountain of flesh.

Bringing up what shouldn't be brought up, the careless Hagrid recalled that night when he was able to get Harry to Privet Drive thanks to the modified motorcycle Sirius Black had lent him.

Seeing that Hagrid had said the wrong thing, Basilda quickly changed the subject. She knew Belvina wouldn't mind, but she didn't want to see Hagrid curled up like a baby who was hundreds of months old.

"I'm out of money, so you'll have to support me, Belvina," Bussie said defiantly. "Don't worry, I won't need much, a hundred or so Galleons will be enough."

hum!

I, Bassheda Bablin, don't take money for nothing. My Galleons are worth a hundred each!

This was blatant robbery, yet Belvina readily agreed to their unreasonable demands. How bad could someone who spends most of their money on food possibly be?

"Since raising one is the same as raising one, why don't you take one with you?" Paul said without batting an eye. "I don't need that many, twenty Galleons will be enough."

Rich woman, hungry, need food.

A simple joke quickly bridged the gap between Paul and Belvina, making them seem like they had known each other for a long time.

However, their friendship was only superficial; in their hearts, they remained strangers to each other.

"If you need labor arbitration, I can file an application with the Ministry of Magic on your behalf," Belvina said with heartache. "I never imagined Professor Dumbledore would deduct such a drastic measure from the salaries of elective course professors!"

As if sensing something, or as if he had been eavesdropping all along, Dumbledore actually turned his head to look at the chattering trio.

"Ronald Weasley!" Professor McGonagall shouted.

The Weasleys' youngest son walked toward the four-legged stool with a pale face, his movements somewhat unsteady, as nervous as a toddler who had just learned to walk.

The three of them, including Belvina, were like the poor students in the back row of the classroom. The moment the headmaster (Dumbledore) looked over, they all became obedient. The three of them tacitly looked at Hagrid and huddled together.

Are you kidding me!

That's the man who defeated Grindelwald at his peak, the man who instilled fear in the most dangerous dark lord in history.

"Brace Sabini!"

The last freshman of the class was sorted into Slytherin. The Sorting Ceremony was over, and Professor McGonagall took away the Sorting Hat and the four-legged stool.

Albus Dumbledore stood up, smiling broadly at the students, and stretched out his arms to them, as if nothing could make him happier than seeing his students gathered together.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome everyone to Hogwarts for the start of a new school year! First, let me welcome our two new teachers. The first is Professor Quirinus Quirrell, whom I think many of you will remember."

As Dumbledore spoke, Quirrell stood up, awkwardly waving his hands, looking utterly comical with his unease. Professor Quirrell looked nothing like a Ravenclaw; he seemed more like someone from a circus.

"He readily agreed to fill the vacancy in the Defense Against the Dark Arts course."

Sparse applause rang out in the auditorium, the lack of enthusiasm clearly indicating that the students didn't particularly like the twice-cooked pork dish.

"As for our second professor," Dumbledore began to display his wit, "she is a young and beautiful witch whom I obtained from the Ministry of Magic."

As he spoke, Dumbledore raised his arm and pointed to where Belvina was.

Belvina also stood up, her dark green dress appearing even more magnificent and elegant in the candlelight, her flawless face instantly captivating the budding hearts of the teenagers.

"Professor Belvina Black will be teaching your Muggle Studies class. I hope you will choose this course in the new school year."

The auditorium erupted in applause once again, the young people's hands clapping until they were red, and a continuous stream of whistles conveyed their excitement.

Those who chose the Muggle Studies course applauded enthusiastically, while those who didn't secretly exchanged glances, intending to change their already chosen elective courses immediately.

Brothers, choose her!

Who cares what she teaches, just choose her!

Belvina, the humanoid succubus, placed her hand on her chest and bowed slightly, elegant but not exactly generous.

If you're a true brother, choose her! You absolutely have to choose her!

The original course schedule was simply not enough; we had to have one Muggle Studies class a day—no, one in the morning and one in the afternoon!

At this moment, Belvina knew nothing. She could never have imagined that these children would be so cruel, not only planning to make her pull the millstone, but also to grind the millstone until it sparked.

While some were excited, others were not. Draco Malfoy sat blankly at the long table, as if struck by lightning.

Young Master Malfoy couldn't understand how his aunt, the youngest daughter of the Black family, had become a professor of Muggle Studies. Could someone tell him this wasn't real? Could someone tell him this was just a nightmare?

Belvina sat down with a smile, looking at the tall, thin figure, thinking about the other person's statement that differed from Fudge's—"I got it from the Ministry of Magic."

What does that mean?

Was it to express welcome, or was there actually something going on?

Could it be that I'm overthinking things again, complicating a simple matter?

This is one of the main reasons why Belvina doesn't want to return to Hogwarts; being too close to Dumbledore would make her seem intellectually and emotionally inadequate! No matter how cunning the hunter, he can't outsmart the old fox!

"Before the banquet begins, let me say one more thing," Dumbledore continued his inaugural address, "and that is: idiots! Crybabies! Trash! Screws!"

pass!

Everything is working!

Fudge, Dumbledore, Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts.

Things that had puzzled her before suddenly became clear to Belvina. When she connected all the recent events, she understood everything.

No wonder Dumbledore agreed to let Belvina return to Hogwarts, and didn't even meet her in person. Their only communication was through letters. So that's why!

You damn Remus Lupin, you've really screwed over your mother!