Appointment

Hermione frowned as she read through the newspaper once again, then angrily turned it facedown on the table and began eating her breakfast.

"Where's Harry? Don't tell me he's still not up?"

"You guessed it." Ron pursed his lips. "Anyone could tell from that look that Old Bat dragged him off to that ridiculous study again last night."

"Put nicely, it's called studying!" Hermione was a little envious. Those were ancient books from a thousand years ago, after all.

"Studying..." Ron stood up for his best friend. "That's clearly exploitation! Bats don't need sleep, but Harry does!"

After sitting down, he picked up the bread on the table, then casually took the newspaper Hermione had tossed aside. "Speaking of which, I still don't know what actually happened that day."

"A narcissist's monologue—a criminal recounting the crime scene." Hermione frowned as she stirred the milk in her cup. "Though it was obvious long ago that he had no real talent, who could have guessed that all those things had been stolen?"

Ron exaggeratedly widened his eyes and glanced at Hermione. "You knew all along that he had no real talent?"

Hermione flushed crimson and snatched the newspaper from Ron's hands. "Just eat!"

Then she unfolded the newspaper again.

The article described in great detail how Lockhart had gotten drunk at a Christmas dinner and spilled the truth, clearly recounting all his fraudulent deeds. Moreover, this Christmas dinner had been far from an ordinary gathering. Many Ministry of Magic employees, reporters, and scholars had been present—in other words, it had reduced the complicated investigation needed to expose him and send him to prison to the bare minimum. That very night, he had been sent to Azkaban for maliciously injuring someone with a spell.

What was even more coincidental was that the Auror who had attended the banquet, arrested him, and sent him to Azkaban—Petr Carverlin—was also a victim's family member. She had already joined forces with other suspected victims to investigate the unknown man who could only use the Memory Charm for several years. However, they had never found the actual culprit, so she had kept the evidence instead of submitting it.

Thus, as soon as Lockhart was arrested, the evidence was sent to the Wizengamot, directly doubling his charges.

Hermione stared at the newspaper, frowning as the spoon in her hand stabbed the bottom of her cup again and again.

She felt that everything was far too coincidental. Something was wrong—the various conspiracy theories she had read over the holidays flooded into her mind all at once.

She was convinced! Things that were too coincidental were definitely unreasonable!

Harry entered the Great Hall yawning just as breakfast was ending. Ron welcomed him to his seat with a sympathetic look and stuffed a sandwich into his mouth.

"Wait, then what are we going to do about Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Hermione suddenly asked.

"What?" Harry asked indistinctly as he ate the sandwich.

"Lockhart went to Azkaban." Ron quietly told Harry, his voice full of amusement.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and handed the newspaper to Harry. Ron immediately widened his eyes. "Why does he get to read it but I don't?"

"Because you already knew, didn't you?"

"Mm..." Harry glanced at the headline, swallowed the sandwich in his mouth, and said quietly, "I already knew too."

Hermione and Ron both turned to look at him.

"How did you know?" Hermione eyed Harry suspiciously. "Who told you?"

"Weren't you at school the whole time?" Ron also regarded Harry suspiciously. "Did you sneak out to have fun?"

With two suspicious pairs of eyes fixed on him at once, Harry felt somewhat irritated, but he still patiently explained:

"I heard it from Snape. He even tried to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, but Principal Dumbledore turned him down." As he spoke, Harry's irritation still rose. He angrily bit into his sandwich. "I, Old Bat's only laborer over the holidays, really suffered. Not only did I have to go to the study, I also had to miserably help him process potion ingredients in the Room of Requirement and put up with his sarcasm—Merlin! Hermione, did you see all that resentment Old Bat was radiating in London? Is this what a rejected old man looks like? Thank goodness for great Hogwarts. He can't deduct points from Gryffindor over the holidays, or else—"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for Mr. Potter's disrespect toward a professor."

A gloomy voice, drawn out in its familiar intonation, came from behind them. The little wizard speaking so cheerfully and the two little wizards listening in stunned silence all shuddered.

"Oh, I forgot to ask beforehand..." Snape glanced at the three shrinking little wizards and gave a snort. "It should be term time now. I have the ability to deduct points from you, don't I, Mr. Potter?"

"...Yes, Professor Snape." Harry puffed out his cheeks, his lips pressed tightly together.

Hearing the gritted anger in Harry's voice, Snape raised his brows in a good mood. As he headed toward the staff table, he said, "I imagine Pomona, no matter how good-natured she is, would deduct points from students who are late."

"!" Hermione immediately stood up, grabbed her books, and ran out of the Great Hall.

Harry stuffed the sandwich in his hand into his mouth, then grabbed Ron, who was trying to take another piece of bread, and ran. The two of them promptly fell flat on the floor together. Harry choked on the food in his mouth and began coughing nonstop. In the end, Ron got up neatly and dragged him outside, while Snape's mocking voice continued to ring in their ears: "As expected of the Chosen One. Such nimble legs."

In the end, Hermione entered the greenhouse on time, panting for breath. Harry and Ron, having eaten and coughed along the way, eventually gave up running and arrived seven minutes late. Sprout deducted one point from each of them, and Hermione glared at them both with exasperation.

Then, while Sprout had them observe the Wrinkled Fig on their own, the three little wizards gathered together again and began discussing what had happened at breakfast.

"Seriously, Harry, you scared me." Ron spoke quietly as he patted Harry on the shoulder. His lips curled upward, revealing an expression of admiration mixed with pity. "You're amazing. I've never seen you say so many bad things about Old Bat so aggressively before. He must have bullied you terribly over the holidays."

Harry sighed in frustration. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been getting angry very easily lately, and once I do, I can't control my mouth."

"It's from staying up late." Hermione stated it with certainty. "Whenever my mum works through the night, she isn't very nice to my dad afterward. Sometimes she's a little fierce with me too."

Ron frowned and fell into thought. "Not necessarily... I think. My mum doesn't stay up late, but you've seen how fierce she still is with me."

"That's not necessarily true." Hermione leaned closer. She knew a few things about the Weasley family. "There are so many children in your family, plus all the housework. Mrs. Weasley must be exhausted. Maybe even staying up all night wouldn't be enough to finish everything!"

"But there's magic—"

"That's your own problem, isn't it? Mrs. Weasley is very nice." Harry irritably poked the Wrinkled Fig in front of him. "She's never fierce with Percy or Ginny. You, Fred, and George are the only ones who get scolded. Try finding the cause in yourselves!"

Hermione and Ron froze together, then exchanged a glance. Rarely, they saw the same thought reflected in each other's eyes: Don't provoke him lately.

After quietly observing the Wrinkled Fig for a while, Hermione sighed. "Are we even going to have Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon?"

"It won't be Snape, anyway, but I get the feeling he really doesn't want to be a Potions professor anymore." Harry curled his lips. "From the things in his Room of Requirement, I'd say he's trying to empty the Potions office. He really doesn't want to go back there. Does he have a dragon in his office or something? Oh, no—if there were a dragon, he'd probably turn the whole thing into potion ingredients."

"...Oh." Hermione had no desire to continue talking to Harry when he was speaking so aggressively. She pulled Ron over and began analyzing the Wrinkled Fig in her hands. Ron nodded constantly along with her explanation, looking like he was trying hard to study.

Hermione's question was answered soon after class ended.

The sixth-years had Defense Against the Dark Arts that morning. Thus, in the Great Hall at lunchtime, the sixth-years from every house were all unusually excited. The normally composed older witches and wizards looked like little students attending school for the first time, all saying, "Professor Sekerei is amazing!"

Hermione: "!" The new professor was Madam Cyberlina!

The sixth-years' discussion filled every year with anticipation. After all, any student taking Defense Against the Dark Arts in sixth year had to have scored highly in the subject on their O.W.L.s. They had already experienced six Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, good and bad alike. For all of them to praise someone so unanimously, just how good did she have to be?

It was amid this heated atmosphere that Cyberlina entered the Great Hall carrying several letters. Under the smiling faces of the other professors and Snape's ominous stare, she slowly took her seat at the staff table.

"Good afternoon, Severus." Cyberlina was the first to greet Snape with a smile.

Snape: "!" She was definitely provoking him!

"Ha! Good afternoon, Profes-sor Sekerei." Snape kept his face stern, his tone as strange as ever. "After only one class—and already so popular. I suppose that is to be expected of you."

"You flatter me." Cyberlina looked at him with a beaming smile. "Don't worry, Severus. I'll still go to the Potions office to help you tonight. Don't worry about me grading assignments. I'm teaching the students almost entirely practical courses, so I'll have plenty of time after class."

Snape paused, then gave a cold snort and said no more.

It wasn't because Cyberlina had mentioned helping him. It was because she had said she was going to the Potions office—that had to mean she was going to find Grindelwald!

Merlin only knew why she had put Grindelwald, permanently fixed in cat form, in his office. Every so often, she would come over, greet him, and then disappear from the spot with the cat in her arms. He was furious, but he couldn't beat either of them, so after complaining to Dumbledore, he had moved all his outside work into the newly tidied Room of Requirement.

Snape hadn't originally needed to brew potions every day over the holidays, but the batch of potions requested by clients introduced by Lucius had suddenly become urgent—though naturally, they had paid extra.

He believed there was nothing wrong with his ability, but the schedule was tight. Unfortunately, during that period, his little assistant kept disappearing with the cat all day long, so he had no choice but to make the Chosen One, who was staying at school, help process the ingredients. He used Harry to open the door often enough anyway, so it had become quite convenient. Of course, he always took Harry into the Room of Requirement himself, because there was no way he would tell Mr. Potter the room's password.

In the end, he sent the potions to Lucius at the agreed time that morning. Though Cyberlina had been instrumental in delivering them on time—she had happened to prepare all the ingredients before Christmas, before the client requested the rush—he would not thank her.

After all, she had also used gathering ingredients for him as an excuse to rescue someone from Austria! Then, after bringing him back, she had left him in Snape's office to cause him trouble!

Snape harbored all kinds of complaints about Cyberlina and had no desire to look at her. Thus, he lowered his head and ate, only to discover the moment he did so that he was wearing the Christmas gift Cyberlina had given him. He had later been so busy brewing potions that he had forgotten to prepare a return gift... His mood worsened further!

He ate a few bites with a dark expression, then floated out of the Great Hall in his new robes. The little wizards he passed one after another fell silent, only gathering together to whisper about who had provoked Old Bat after he left.

McGonagall watched Snape leave with helpless amusement. She didn't know about everything that had happened afterward and assumed he had simply been annoyed because Cyberlina's offer to help him had hit a sore spot. She turned to Cyberlina beside her and said, "Severus can't take a joke. Try not to tease him while he's eating... He doesn't eat properly as it is."

"Okay." Cyberlina smiled brightly as she opened the letter in her hand. "Albus will probably be away for a few more days. If you're having trouble handling your duties, Madam Deputy Headmistress, you can come to me too."

"It's fine. I'm used to it." McGonagall sighed helplessly. "At least this time the International Confederation of Wizards genuinely needed him for something. It's a normal business trip. You have no idea—sometimes he just sits in his office eating candy and leaves all the work to me."

Cyberlina leaned slightly toward McGonagall and winked at her. "Don't be angry, Minerva. I reduced his Tooth-strengthening Potion for several months."

McGonagall hesitated. "But don't you often ask me to bring him candy? And you only gave him a new bag at breakfast the day before yesterday—"

McGonagall stopped.

She understood.

McGonagall looked at Cyberlina with the same expression she used when looking at the mischievous little lions.

Cyberlina merely gave her a meaningful smile, then turned and opened the letters she had received that morning.

There was nothing important in them, merely letters with everyday greetings. She flipped through the first few casually and had no intention of replying. But when she reached Lucius's letter, she paused. Lucius said that several foreign families whose relations with the Malfoy family were merely ordinary had suddenly begun contacting the Malfoys frequently, even voluntarily adding money to their transactions. He suspected they had some sort of scheme.

Cyberlina raised a brow, somewhat surprised that Lucius would ask for her opinion. She gave a soft laugh, took out a quill, and wrote in the blank space at the end of his letter: "Don't worry. Keep doing things as you usually do."

Then Cyberlina set the letter aside and tapped the table. The paper vanished.

Next, she opened the final letter. It was unsigned, and its contents consisted of only one brief sentence—

[Thank you for allowing me to borrow your surname.]

Cyberlina's eyes curved with a smile as she folded the letter.

A tiny white flame emerged from her fingertips and silently burned the paper in her palm, leaving not even a scrap of ash.

Smiling, Cyberlina pushed the useless letters aside and began enjoying her first lunch at the staff table in this life.

Although she had initially become a professor for stability and leisure, so that she could spend as much time as possible with Ominis, later—or rather, now—she suddenly realized that she quite liked being a professor.

She had once been a professor at Hogwarts for a considerable length of time and had taught many students. She still remembered most of their personalities and names clearly.

Even toward the end of her teaching career in her previous life, when Ominis's physical condition had left her without the heart to teach and caused her to neglect her students somewhat, she hadn't forgotten them completely. That little bit of memory was enough for her to recognize the faces and surnames of the students she had overlooked in the Pensieve.

She felt that being able to remember them was a good thing.

Understanding students and standing up for them was the most basic duty of a professor, wasn't it?