In mid-August, as the school year approached, Anthony packed his things and moved from the Leaky Cauldron to Hogwarts. His brass key corresponded to a simple wooden door on the second floor of the castle, and behind that door was his professor's office.

Inside the office, there was another concealed door that led to a secluded bedroom. The bedroom was fully furnished: a sturdy set of desk and chairs, a comfortable bed with curtains embroidered with the Hogwarts crest, and a washroom (thankfully, the mirrors at Hogwarts did not talk).

Hogwarts professors enjoyed a high degree of freedom; they could decorate their offices and bedrooms as they pleased. It was said that his neighbor, Professor Quirrell, had hung garlic all over his door out of fear of vampire retaliation.

After spending some time organizing his room, Anthony found himself staring blankly at the empty office. According to Professor McGonagall, professors usually decorated their offices in a way related to their subjects, so they could easily dive back into their research after waking up. Professor Snape from Potions had even expanded his office into a full potion room.

However, Anthony couldn't think of what to put in his office. Muggle specimens? He wasn’t really a dark wizard.

Besides, apart from a wand, wizards and Muggles had no visible differences. As for their internal physiological structures… Given that wizards had bubbling potions and whizzing spells, it was clear they didn’t need to understand human anatomy to heal. While preparing for classes, he had also asked an intern at the Leaky Cauldron about buying some books on wizard anatomy to compare with Muggle medicine. The young girl turned pale and shook her head vigorously.

So, he simply asked the house-elf in the castle to set up a desk and chairs for him. No, he didn’t need floor-to-ceiling windows or velvet curtains; a set of desk and chairs was just fine, thank you.

“What kind of desk and chairs do you want?” the house-elf eagerly asked. “Are three drawers too few? Do you like gold handles?”

In the end, a stunningly ornate set of desk and chairs was placed in the middle of his empty office.

The mahogany desk was carefully polished and shone with a beautiful finish, the edges adorned with intricate carvings (which Anthony leaned in to examine—a row of dancing pears). Besides the five drawers with gold handles, the elf had thoughtfully provided additional storage compartments on the desk. On the inside of the chair's curved armrests, carved pears were gathered together, singing. Anthony's name was embroidered in gold thread on the velvet cushion.

“That's good, I’m very satisfied, thank you,” Anthony interrupted the little elf who was trying to make further improvements. The elf's bulb-like eyes stared eagerly at him. “I—I’m really very satisfied; it’s quite perfect, I couldn’t find anything better.”

The house-elf beamed and bowed to him. “My honor!” With a pop, it disappeared.

“It’s a bit terrifying how enthusiastic it is, isn’t it?” Anthony walked to the bedroom and took the cat out of his backpack. “You be good; don’t tear the place apart.”

The cat looked up at him, jumped onto the bed, walked around a bit, and then settled down comfortably. Its temperament had improved significantly, and after gaining flesh and fur, it slept even longer. Even when awake, it took a long time to groom itself, no longer the hyperactive cat that used to leap around in the apartment. Sometimes, when it was too quiet, Anthony missed its frantic scratching at the door.

He couldn't help but reach out and poke its soft belly, getting caught by a paw. He lay on the bed playing with the cat for a while before retracting his hand and sitting up. “No more playing; I’m going to check out the staff lounge.”

He timed his visit perfectly, just as afternoon tea was being served. Professor Bubbage was sitting with a witch, and upon seeing him from afar, she waved him over with a smile.

“Henry Anthony, our new professor in Muggle Studies, as you know,” Professor Bubbage introduced him to the witch at her table. “This is Pomona Sprout, the Herbology professor and our most distinguished sponsor of afternoon tea.”

At that moment, Anthony felt a deep respect for the kindly smiling professor. He knew almost nothing about Herbology and had only skimmed through a few chapters of the textbook before putting it aside.

The exquisite sketches, detailed classifications, thorough explanations of effects, and complicated theoretical analyses could all be summarized for him in one word: cumbersome. He was pressed for time and didn’t have the patience or determination to memorize the genealogy of plants.

“Finally, someone to share your workload,” Professor Sprout said, giving Anthony a friendly nod. “Not a Hogwarts graduate, I presume? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Oh! A newcomer!” a professor who had just entered the lounge exclaimed happily. “This must be Professor Anthony! Kerry has been talking about you for a long time; you have no idea how much she wants to find someone to take her place.”

“Who wouldn’t want that?” Professor Sprout joked.

The professor shrieked, “Pomona! Are you retiring too?”

“She started looking for a suitable candidate last year, Filius. She just hasn’t liked any of those ‘Herbology experts’ from outside. Unless she suddenly lowers her standards, you’ll at least be colleagues for another twenty years,” Professor Bubbage laughed, then turned to introduce Anthony. “This is the Charms professor, Filius Flitwick.”

Anthony’s eyes instantly lit up.

He did indeed have some talent in Charms; he had mastered all the required spells for the seven years at Hogwarts and had successfully performed several advanced spells. But this practice-heavy, theory-light approach had its downsides: he didn’t understand how his failed spells failed. He had planned to ask Professor Bubbage or Professor Quirrell for guidance but unexpectedly encountered the Charms professor.

Professor Flitwick was a cheerful little old man, quite short. He had specially raised his chair by several inches to sit comfortably. “What tea do we have today? … Oh, please get me some too, thank you.”

The teapot flew up and poured a cup for him, and then two sugar cubes rolled into his cup. Professor Flitwick stirred his tea slowly with a silver spoon and looked up at Anthony with a smile. “What’s the matter, Professor Anthony?”

“I… I’ve self-studied the Charms course at Hogwarts,” he said, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Ah, excellent! Excellent!” Professor Flitwick said happily. “I guess you have some questions about spells you’d like to ask me.”

Anthony nodded. “I have many silly questions. The first silly question is: why can’t the cleaning charm remove water created by the clear spring charm? I’ve tried ordinary water; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but I’ve never succeeded with the water from the spring charm.”

“Good question, Professor Anthony, good question. That is certainly not a stupid question,” Professor Flitwick waved his little silver spoon. “In fact, if you had asked a wizard from a hundred years ago, he would have told you he didn’t know, but the solution is the drying charm. It wasn’t until Abednego Wolflin defined the scope of spell application that we realized this was because the water produced by magic is not considered a stain, and the cleaning charm, by its composition, is aimed at stains.”

He glanced at the enlightened Anthony. “You haven’t read ‘Magical Theory,’ have you?”

“No,” Anthony admitted. “Is that also a textbook for the Charms course? I thought there was only ‘Standard Spells.’”

Professor Flitwick said seriously, “It’s not just a textbook for Charms; it’s the theoretical foundation for all subjects at Hogwarts.”

“I’ll definitely read it,” Anthony promised.

“No need to worry, Henry; it’s not the theoretical foundation for Muggle Studies,” Professor Bubbage set down her teacup. “We have no theory.”

She complained to Anthony, “Wizards really don’t understand Muggles at all. Once, I had a practical exam for the final, where I asked them to put together a suitable outfit for visiting a Muggle family for the exam.”

Professor Sprout took a cookie and showed a knowing smile. Clearly, this was not the first time Professor Bubbage had told this story.

“Can you guess what they wore?” Professor Bubbage asked. “Some of them just grabbed a few random clothes from a Muggle shop—I don’t even know if they paid for them—and wore them to the exam. Some even didn’t take the brand tags off. When I asked him, he told me it was a kind of decoration for Muggles, similar to cufflinks. Charlie Weasley; he went to study dragons.”

“And Mr. Weasley—the father of that student—used to love writing to me, asking questions about Muggles. He asked me how cars move, and I was surprised he at least knew what a car was, so I told him it mainly relies on the engine. A week later, he actually sent me an engine he had taken from a car, asking me why it wouldn’t move!”

“And you have no idea how outdated their original textbooks were. ‘The Daily Life of Muggles,’ I remember it was called. Their textbooks were still stuck in the 18th century, while we were already in the 20th century!” Professor Bubbage ranted as if she had opened a floodgate. “I replaced the books as soon as I took office. It was a disaster. Students who were still writing about charcoal last year were suddenly told the correct answer was natural gas. Everyone brought their outdated textbooks and theories to argue with me, trying to convince me their answers were fine.

“I had to frankly tell them that copying those answers passed down from who knows which cohort was of no benefit to them—because my teaching focus was on modern Muggles, Muggles who live among them, perhaps even the parents and friends of their classmates. They couldn’t treat 20th-century Muggles the same way they treated 18th-century Muggles; it simply wouldn’t work. Perhaps the differences between 18th-century wizards and us weren’t that great, but Muggles… change quickly.”

Anthony listened sympathetically to her complaints. Professors Flitwick and Sprout were smiling and sipping tea, looking kindly at Professor Bubbage, as if they found her rambling more interesting than what she was saying. Anthony felt that he might be the only one at the table who fully understood her grievances.

Professor Bubbage clearly felt the same way.

“I liked you the moment I saw your outfit,” she said kindly to Anthony. “When you opened the door, you looked like a real Muggle, just standing at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. I thought to myself, where did the headmaster find such a Muggle? Oh, speaking of which, how are you preparing for your class?”

As Anthony left the staff lounge, he found himself holding a foot-long reading list with reference books recommended by Professor Bubbage and theoretical texts suggested by Professor Flitwick.