"Elena glanced at Professor McGonagall, pausing briefly on her checked coat that seemed at least a decade out of fashion. She shrugged. 'You're right, in many ways, we're two worlds apart.'"
Back in her previous life at university, Elena took an interesting course called Socioeconomics. During one class, a rather cynical Mediterranean middle-aged professor said something that resonated with her deeply in this moment.
"'Mystery and the unknown create distance rather than define class,' he said."
Elena raised a finger, speaking earnestly, "The sole thing that divides humanity, inherently social beings, into two worlds ultimately comes down to one thing—poverty."
Since humanity's first encounter with the existence of magic, wizards, who wield supernatural powers, have indeed held an overwhelming advantage in accumulating wealth, power, and fame compared to ordinary folks. Before the technological explosion, most efforts of regular people paled in comparison to wizards simply flicking their wands.
Tracing history, the most prominent pure-blooded wizarding families, the Twenty-Eight Sacred Names, all held centuries-old legacies, amassing wealth, reputation, and power. The Gaunts, Longbottoms, Potters, and the like gathered immense wealth, power, and prestige during that era, all by virtue of their magical abilities.
Consequently, ages ago, a deliberate distinction was made between the wizarding and Muggle worlds, primarily to maintain the ancient wizards' aura of mystique and exclusivity.
However, with time, the positions of these two worlds inadvertently swapped. Magic, Elena believed, wasn't all-powerful. To her, magic served to facilitate, bend natural laws, and embellish rather than act as a panacea.
Unfortunately, most wizards seemed oblivious to this reality. Their outdated educational system posed severe challenges for generations, even in the most basic aspects of survival.
Take, for instance, the once prosperous Gaunt family from whom a certain unnamed Dark Lord’s mother hailed. By the 1990s, their wealth had dwindled to a dilapidated old house, virtually no substantial industry remaining.
"The times have changed, Professor McGonagall," Elena shook her head softly. "The wizarding world no longer holds sway. I have no interest in the poverty-stricken magical realm you speak of. It can't teach me what I wish to know."
In fact, it wasn’t a grand decline in the magical world, but rather the overwhelming progress of Muggle technology during times of conflict that rendered the wizards unable to adapt within the given time.
Some wise adult wizards could see this, yet their attempts to integrate into the Muggle world revealed despair. Lacking fundamental education outside magic, their adaptation into Muggle life became arduous.
Their powerful magical abilities hardly found practical use apart from aiding in criminal endeavors or terrorism. Thus, a barrier, more robust and distant than centuries before, resurfaced. Elena had no interest in boarding a leaking ship.
"Poor, backward magical world? How dare you say that? You have no understanding of the vast, mysterious world you confront," Professor McGonagall retorted, her tone growing stern as if deeply offended.
"Each adult wizard undergoes rigorous education at Hogwarts—Potions, History of Magic, Astronomy, Herbology, Transfiguration, and so on. Yet, even after seven full years, they barely scratch the surface. Any branch of magic is enough for a wizard's lifetime of study."
"But what value do these courses hold? If they can't ensure basic survival, no matter how profound, they become impractical musings," Elena replied casually, twirling her silver hair.
"Every Hogwarts graduate secures respectable magical employment," Professor McGonagall continued, her frustration simmering.
"If everyone finds decent jobs, where's the incentive to strive? Muggle education, flawed as it may be, at least reflects objective competence. In the wizarding world, effort seems less consequential," Elena countered.
Compared to McGonagall, Elena believed she understood the 'adult society' of the magical world to some extent. Even Hermione Granger, the top student, ended up as an employee at the Ministry of Magic. Harry Potter and his friend Ron joined the official magical violence organization.
Essentially, their worries about certificates and exams at school hardly mattered in their actual careers. This realization made the struggles of countless Muggles striving through judiciary exams to shoulder societal order quite pitiable.
McGonagall's eyebrows rose, more wrinkles on her forehead forming. She'd never faced such a persistent newcomer, her tone turning cold.
"We award O.W.L and N.E.W.T certificates based on students' exam performance. Hogwarts education isn't isolated; it shapes a wizard's entire life, more crucial than Muggle courses."
Sensing McGonagall's displeasure, Elena, confident in rebutting each argument, wasn't interested in analyzing the magical world's shortcomings with a grandmotherly old witch.
Deciding to end the pointless debate swiftly, Elena raised her hand, interrupting, "Fine, let's not delve into the usefulness of these courses for now. Professor McGonagall, can you honestly say your taught content is entirely mastered by many students? Or shall I rephrase..."
Elena pointed beneath McGonagall's grand chair, arching an eyebrow, "How many graduates can flawlessly reproduce the Transfiguration spell you just demonstrated? How many students truly achieve your intended teaching goals?"
"In your so-called magical world, how many truly talented wizards exist? Take a simple example: how many adult wizards are absolutely confident in subduing a Muggle assailant wielding a knife at close range?"
"...," McGonagall faltered, reluctant to lie— the magical world wasn't as potent; otherwise, the panic caused by Voldemort and the Death Eaters years ago wouldn't have been so severe.
Elena wasn't surprised by McGonagall's silence.
If students like Harry and Ron, who rarely studied ahead, didn't pay attention in class, and relied on guesswork for exams, were considered good students, then the majority of Hogwarts students must have been subpar. Those who graduated worse than Harry Potter probably wouldn't have much prowess either.
Even so, Hogwarts stood as one of the top wizarding schools, implying the general educational standard in the magical world. A child from the remotest school in the mountains of Elena's former world probably had more potential than these wizards.
However, faced with McGonagall's silence, Elena wasn't ready to back down. She aimed to end all talk about magic today and redirect her life toward a pleasant path of urban business warfare.
"For all these years, among the students you've taught, how many earn more than you now? I suspect more often than not, each succeeding batch fares worse. Frankly, most of them, if struck by illness and unable to work, might starve next month. Even buying a few decent clothes by year-end might be considered affluent?"
McGonagall's breath grew heavier, lips pursed tight like a thin line. Among her past students, only Lucius Malfoy could be considered well-off, mainly due to his family's wealth rather than his personal efforts.
"Power and authority inevitably accompany destruction and hatred. They are means of world destruction, not the cornerstones of civilization. The main difference between the cornerstones of civilization lies in their placement and function, not their material."
"And the worst
of all, in this magical world, magical education fails at both."
With that final statement, Elena firmly concluded her stance on the magical world. It wasn't about ignorance or disdain; rather, she saw an unalterable reality and had made her decision. She had no intention of seeking salvation in the poverty-stricken wizarding world, nor did she intend to succumb to an education that couldn't ensure her basic survival in a world she sought to conquer.
Professor McGonagall's gaze remained fixed on Elena, torn between the urge to refute and the unsettling realization that the young girl's words contained more truth than she cared to admit.