Why Doesn't Hogwarts Have Parent-Teacher Conferences?
The Hampstead Garden on the outskirts of the city is planted mostly with plane trees. Loren initially thought they were France trees, but Hermione later explained that France are not plane trees and do not come from France. The trees planted in the garden are actually a cultivated hybrid species, created by crossing the London plane tree, which is native to Eurasia, with the American plane tree, which is native to North America.
Summer is the time when everything is lush and green, and the tender green leaves on the tips of the treetops are so fresh they seem to drip with moisture.
Crookshanks peered through the car window, the green trees reflected in his eyes, all looking delighted.
Hogwarts to Hogwarts Castle and the Burrow outside the village, it is more adapted to this kind of street. With Niffler blood, it can easily beat up the stray cats in the vicinity and can run freely in the roads and bushes.
The car stopped in front of Granger house. Bates let the two of them get out of the car first, then parked the car in the garage. Loren and Hermione packed their suitcases and went to knock on the door empty-handed. Crookshanks followed behind them obediently, taking small steps, with a hint of pleasure on his face.
The door opened after just one knock, and Wendell appeared before them. His build and face were similar to what they had a year ago. If there was any change, it was probably that he had less hair and a larger bald patch.
"You're back?" Wendell opened her arms to her daughter. "You've grown taller since you left last year. How were you during the Christmas holidays...?"
"I have school during the Christmas holidays." Hermione gave a perfunctory hug, changed her shoes, and hurried inside. "Is Mom in the Kitchen? I have so much to tell her..."
"..."
Watching his daughter's retreating figure, Wendell sighed sadly. Looking at Loren beside him with a smile on his face, he felt even more melancholy.
"Long time no see, Mr. Granger ..." Loren nodded slightly, his smile bright. "Have you been fishing lately? How was the catch?"
"..."
Monica checked the ingredients for the salad, squeezed mayonnaise into a clear glass bowl, and heard the door open and close, knowing they were back. Before she could hear anything more, her usually composed daughter rushed into the Kitchen and stood behind her.
"I miss you so much, Mom..."
"I miss you too. Just a moment, dinner will be ready soon. Tonight..."
Before she could introduce tonight's dishes, a pair of hands wrapped around her waist, two slender, fair hands resting on the apron in front of her, and a small head pressed against her back, which was a little prickly.
Monica paused for a moment, then couldn't help but smile, "Why are you still acting like a child?"
"I'm just a child."
"Whose child is dating?"
Hermione blushed for a few seconds, then snuggled against her mother's soft, warm back. The clothes still smelled of Kitchen oil, but she couldn't get enough of it. She murmured softly, "Dating is dating, but I'll always be Mommy's little child..."
"I have no problem, but your father is a little unhappy after seeing the letter. Think about how to persuade him."
"No need to persuade him, he'll accept it once he gets used to it."
"..."
Someone's going to be sad.
Monica shook her head, her smile growing even brighter.
A sumptuous meal was quickly laid out on the table. Warm yellow light shone on the cheesy mashed potatoes and the golden-brown roasted steaks. Knives and forks clinked against the clean white porcelain plates, making a crisp, tinkling sound. The aroma of mushroom soup wafted through the air, filling the room with a cozy and comforting scent.
Crookshanks nestled at Wendell's feet, a few fresh little fish in a feeding bowl, which it nibbled on, its face covered in them.
The turmeric kitten ate to its heart's content, and Wendell's face also showed a satisfied smile. He put another piece of meat into the food bowl before looking up and asking, "Hermione, this year's vacation is two weeks later than usual, right? Will school start later? Loren, have you decided where to go for summer vacation?"
"The holiday break was delayed because four schools jointly hosted Triwizard Tournament. The start date for the new semester is the same as in previous years. Also... we probably won't be able to travel long distances." Loren swallowed the carrot stick in his mouth, his tone helpless. "In August, we have to attend a professor's wedding, and there have been some changes in the Wizarding World, so we have other things to do..."
"An unexpected turn of events? Is it serious? I remember something similar happened in New York last year, and you even made us leave to take refuge, hiding for almost a week..."
Bates glanced at Loren, then turned to Wendell and Monica's increasingly serious expressions, frowned, and asked, "Loren, Hermione, do wizards like you often suffer misfortunes? Judging from your experiences, it seems there are many terrorists in the Wizarding World, carrying out terrorist attacks all over the world every year..."
"Calling them terrorists wouldn't be wrong..." Loren sighed. "A group of guys who called themselves Death Eater were scattered more than a decade ago, but recently their leader has reappeared. The Wizarding World may not be very stable for some time to come..."
Bates frowned. Magic and wizardry were completely unfamiliar territory for him, and Loren's words left him conflicted. Wendell and Monica exchanged glances; the three of them shared the same thought.
Let the children drop out of school and get away from that turbulent and dangerous Wizarding World; the family can afford to send them to any normal high school...
But soon, Loren broke the silence between the three. "Don't worry too much, they will be wiped out sooner or later. Besides, our headmaster is the most powerful wizard in the world and can protect the students of Hogwarts. Hermione and I are also capable of protecting ourselves."
"Really? That's good..."
Bates nodded slightly and said nothing more. The Mr. and Mrs. Granger glanced at their daughter's face and suppressed their worries.
The long-awaited reunion dinner returned to a warm and joyful atmosphere.
[Dear Headmaster Dumbledore:...]
The pen strokes across the clean, white letter paper, leaving behind fragrant ink marks.
In the quiet of Hampstead Garden late at night, at the wooden table by the window in the study, Bates held an expensive fountain pen inlaid with gold wire. The glass window in front of him was open, and a Hānhan Spectacled Owl stood on the windowsill, preening its feathers.
Bates pushed up his reading glasses; the prescription was very low. His Werewolf Disease made his physical functions much better than those of the average elderly person, and he only took them out to wear today because he was writing a letter.
The glasses... the patterns on his Hānhan face really do look like glasses...
"Hiss..."
Bates misspelled another word, crossed it out, flipped through the thick dictionary, and started writing again.
What a hassle, why doesn't Hogwarts have parent-teacher conferences?
It's unbelievable that the wizard would use such a primitive method to transmit messages. You know, back when he was a young soldier, people could make phone calls on the battlefield. Even without telephone lines, telegrams were faster than letters.
I wonder how the owl found the right place. What if it encounters international mail, or even mail that crosses the ocean...?