Chapter 18: Chapter 018 – Why Does the Magic World Also Have Cram School?!

Translator: Exodus Tales

Editor: Exodus Tales

“Professor? Professor Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore heard someone call him, and that someone was lightly pulling on his sleeve.

“You’re not asleep, are you? Professor Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore suddenly came back to his senses. The cold and sinister gray brick tower was no more, and Grindelwald had vanished. What he now saw was the warm and comfortable Hogwarts Headmaster’s office. To his right, the fireplace was softly crackling.

In front of him, a charming silver-haired girl was staring at him with a look of concern and confusion.

“Gellert, you were right…”

Dumbledore muttered so softly that no one could hear as he gravely inspected Alina.

There was no doubt that besides ‘her,’ this half-Veela girl was probably the best fit for Grindelwald’s prophecy, perhaps even stronger, smarter, younger, and less limited by her thoughts.

But the problem was—the old man glanced down at his wrinkled and veiny right hand—he didn’t know if he had enough time to guide her onto the right path.


Seeing that Dumbledore had come back to his senses, Alina sighed in relief.

In her excitement, she had taken Dumbledore’s words and extensively talked about the natural science disciplines like physics, chemistry, and mathematics. But as she chattered on and on, she discovered that this old wizard’s eyes had gone blank, almost frightening her out of her wits.

After all, who knew if the wizarding world had anything like senility or stroke? If her random babbling caused the strongest White Wizard of the era to develop some sort of problem, Alina probably wouldn’t be able to even get out of the castle before a professor came to arrest and execute her.

“Then, Professor Dumbledore, if there’s nothing else, why don’t I leave you to your thoughts, and we can meet when school starts?”

Alina glanced at the silent Dumbledore, gulping down her pumpkin juice before timidly asking.

Although she didn’t know what was going on, her sixth sense told her that staying around was not a good choice.

Dumbledore raised a hand and stroked his chin, a thoughtful look appearing behind his half-moon spectacles.

“I recall that we earlier agreed that if you were able to get top marks in all your classes, I would work with the Ministry of Magic to have you sent to America to study at a Muggle after your fourth year.”

The silver-haired girl warily raised her head. “Professor Dumbledore, you’re the greatest wizard in the world. You aren’t going back on your word, are you?”

“On the contrary…”

Dumbledore shook his head and softly said, “I am thinking. If you temporarily leave Hogwarts after your fourth year, then to ensure that your talent doesn’t go to waste, I will use these for years to convince the other professors as much as I can to add class for you to take in your free time.”

No one was born knowing everything. Becoming a mature witch or wizard required a long process of study and practice.

Dumbledore believed that rather than follow Hogwarts’ usually rather flexible teaching plan, it would be better to do his best to guide and accompany Alina on her path to maturation.

In this way, he could constantly keep track of how her personality grew and how her magic abilities improved while also protecting her as much as possible. There would be no repeat of Grindelwald or Tom Riddle, who lost themselves to the power of dark magic.

“Eh…Eeeh?!”

Alina’s cute face froze, and then her eyes went round—wasn’t this a cram school?!

Wasn’t it said that foreigners advocated for a happy education? Why was it that in the Magic World, the detestable cram schools that went against the nature of children would appear?!

“Oh, mmm, the professors are busy every day, so it’s best not to trouble them with this. I can just study on my own. If I don’t understand something, I can gather up my questions and then come to the professors for help…”

The Alina, who had envisioned being able to happily play, eat, and drink after entering Hogwarts, felt an unprecedented danger. As Dumbledore sternly counted with his fingers, she tried her best to get him to put aside this dangerous idea.

“Besides that, considering your powerful talent for magic, I hope that you can come by to the Headmaster’s office every week to spend at least one class’s worth of time on practicing your magic control.”

Dumbledore seemed to not hear the silver-haired girl’s words, continuing in his warm voice. Although he used the word ‘hope,’ there was a tone that brooked no objection in his voice. ‘Hope’ clearly meant ‘must.’

“Wait, wait, wait! I haven’t even agreed to the first part! Why is there another rule! And what’s this weird demand about practicing magic control? Can you just listen to me?!”

Sensing that her words were being ignored, the half-Veela waved her fair hand in front of the old wizard’s eyes, her cheeks swelling in anger. This sort of demand was no different from being put in jail.


The Dumbledore, who Alina had always believed to be amiable and gentle, suddenly turned stern and harsh, his azure eyes like sharp swords stabbing into Alina’s face.

“Trust in me! This is all for your good. You must agree!”

“Hmph! Then I won’t come to Hogwarts! Do you think I like all those magical creatures and magic? Not at all! I! Hate! Being! Forced!”

Dumbledore’s coercive tone inflamed Alina’s rage, and she stood up and furiously yelled at Dumbledore. What she hated most were phrases like ‘for your good,’ and what she hated second was cram school.

Her silver hair began to gleam with golden light, and all the cups and saucers in the room began to tremble and cling. A vortex of air suddenly sprung from Alina’s feet and began to sweep up the small items in the room.

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A porcelain cup was lifted from the table and smashed to bits on the wall, and the weak flame in the fireplace was stirred up to a great height, the madly flailing flame casting dark shadows across the room.

This explosion of magic had Dumbledore immediately recalling that young man next to Grindelwald, who also had the surname of ‘Dumbledore.’ However, the pressure this time was even more suffocating than the one from that child.

The old man silently gazed at the girl, who seemed more like a startled kitten, and then put down the wand in his right hand. Standing up, he walked over and squatted down by Alina, and then he took candy from the floor, unwrapped it, grabbed the girl’s hand, and put the candy in her palm.

And then, as the girl watched hostilely and warily, Dumbledore slowly reached out with a wrinkled hand and lightly patted her head. He warmly smiled and spoke in a slightly apologetic tone.

“Don’t be afraid. I only want to help you.”

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