Dumbledore basked in the sun. The afternoon sunlight was not as fierce as it was at noon.
But that made it exceptionally comfortable for an old man of his age, even leaving him a little drowsy. It had been a long time since he had simply studied and rested like this. Normally, he was always occupied with all sorts of affairs. Wait, had he forgotten something?
Dumbledore, who had been lying in a recliner with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them. He remembered that this was already the third day, and he should have replied to Hogwarts once he had figured out the situation.
But then he remembered that there was no fireplace in the villa, and sending a message from France to Hogwarts in England through a Patronus would be rather difficult. With that thought, he simply got up and returned to the basement.
Before his teacher—though he had never called He Shenyan that, the two of them seemed to have tacitly accepted the relationship—floated a tome.
Seeing him arrive, He Shenyan put the book away. He asked, "What is it?"
Dumbledore explained the matter, and the Mage nodded. "That's simple. Let's go back to your school together. As it happens, it's about time I took up my post, isn't it?"
The old man smiled.
They walked out through the villa's front door. Dumbledore stood empty-handed in the clearing before it, watching He Shenyan clap his hands. The country villa they had lived in for two days vanished, replaced by a small grove of trees.
Noticing Dumbledore's gaze, He Shenyan explained, "That's a simple spell from the 'Travel' category. Once I finish compiling my book, you'll understand it."
"A book?"
"Yes. You need teaching materials for classes, don't you?"
"I'm rather looking forward to it, then." Dumbledore drew his wand. "Shall we use Apparition to return?"
"Apparition? Oh! You mean that somewhat dangerous Teleportation Spell? Let me show you something more interesting, shall I?"
He Shenyan deliberately slowed down. With one hand, he casually drew a circle in the air, even making sure Dumbledore could sense the flow of Magic Power.
As he moved, an arc gradually appeared in the air. It was like a mirror, glimmering with black magical radiance. He placed one hand on Dumbledore's shoulder and said, "Now think of your school. What was it called again?"
Dumbledore said, "Hogwarts."
Then, the black center of the arc slowly changed color and spread open. The scene within became the place where the old man had spent most of his life—his school, Hogwarts's main teaching building.
"Now, go in. When you pass through the door, be careful not to have any resistant thoughts. Otherwise, you might leave something behind on the other side." He Shenyan put it delicately as he stepped through with Dumbledore.
Passing through the Portal, they returned to Hogwarts in the blink of an eye. Before them stood Hogwarts's great gates. Quite a few students were strolling across the grass and by the lake in twos and threes, or sitting together and chatting. None of them noticed the tall stranger and their familiar headmaster standing before the open gates.
Dumbledore was especially astonished—perhaps even a little envious.
He had not experienced the uncomfortable sensation of Apparition, as though someone had squeezed him through a rubber tube. Nor had there been any sharp cracking sound. In fact, it had felt no different from stepping outside for a walk on a leisurely afternoon.
It was far too easy.
Once back at school, Dumbledore seemed to take on a special air. His back straightened further, and without needing He Shenyan to say anything, he led him onward.
They passed through the heavy, exquisite oak doors. Directly ahead was a magnificent marble staircase, while to the right stood a pair of double doors. Dumbledore explained that it was the Great Hall, where students and professors ate, and where new students underwent the Sorting Ceremony every year.
"The Sorting Ceremony?" He Shenyan's eyes lit up.
He had always been insatiably eager for all kinds of magical knowledge.
"Ah, yes. We have a little thing called the Sorting Hat. Put it on, and it recites the traits in each person's character. That helps us place them among students with similar personalities—there are four Academies in all."
"The four Academies are named after their founders' surnames: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."
As he explained, he climbed the stairs with He Shenyan. The Mage nodded. Students passing by saw their headmaster showing a handsome stranger around the school and personally introducing him to Hogwarts's history, and they all ran off excitedly.
Only the older ones speculated that he might be an important adult wizard visiting from abroad, and so they greeted him politely. He Shenyan accepted it all without hesitation—he would soon be their teacher, so what was wrong with that?
As for Dumbledore, he did not need to think twice to know that dinner would likely be quite noisy tonight. The news would spread among the students at an explosive speed then.
He smiled helplessly and continued with the tour, a task he greatly enjoyed—he truly loved this ancient castle. It had witnessed his entire life.
They reached the second floor. The moving portraits along the way and the strange floating staircases made He Shenyan laugh. He said, "It seems that both wizards and Mages from my world have peculiar tastes when it comes to these things."
Dumbledore laughed as well. "This castle is simply too old. Even as headmaster, I cannot control every aspect of it. For these little details, I simply let it be."
After walking down a corridor, Dumbledore led him to knock on a door. A woman's voice sounded from inside. "Come in."
Dumbledore pushed the door open and introduced her to He Shenyan. "Minerva McGonagall. Head of Gryffindor Academy. My good friend, colleague, and a dependable person."
The woman sitting behind the desk, writing something, rose in surprise as she looked at the headmaster and the handsome stranger. A warm fire burned in the fireplace behind and to one side of her.
The room was small, but filled with warmth.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall. My name is He Shenyan. You can call me He. We'll be colleagues for a while in the future." He Shenyan smiled politely and extended his right hand.
From her appearance alone, he could tell that she was a serious, conscientious, and highly dependable woman. Her clothes, posture, and even the neat handwriting on the parchment rolls atop her desk all proved it.
That inevitably made him like her somewhat—Mages had always liked people like that.
Professor McGonagall stepped out from behind her desk. She glanced at Dumbledore, then politely smiled and shook He Shenyan's hand. "Hello, Mr. He. I don't know what this is about?"
Dumbledore smiled with a hint of mischief. He was usually rather impish around old friends. "He is my teacher."
To his satisfaction, McGonagall's expression rapidly changed into shock and a look that clearly said, You must be joking.
Dumbledore did not stop there. He went even further, actually nodding solemnly. "You heard correctly, Minerva. He really is my teacher. Please notify the other professors. We'll have a brief meeting in the conference room at six this afternoon. I'll explain then."
Leaving behind a somewhat dazed Professor McGonagall, who nodded blankly, Dumbledore continued showing He Shenyan around Hogwarts. He pointed at the lawn outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. "The view from here is quite lovely, isn't it?"
He Shenyan stroked his chin. "Mm. Personally, I think it might be better with a few additional decorations."
"What sort?"
"Well... you wouldn't like them, trust me, Dumbledore." He Shenyan smiled and let the matter drop. Each of his magical plants looked more terrifying than the last.
Well, potion ingredients were supposed to look ugly.
The two made their way to the third floor. When they passed the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's office, He Shenyan unexpectedly stopped on his own.
Frowning, he asked, "This may be somewhat rude, but Dumbledore, what are Hogwarts's hiring standards?"
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore was somewhat puzzled.
He Shenyan shook his head. Out of courtesy, he had not scanned the entire school with his mind upon arriving. That was why he had only noticed the rotten stench of Magic Power emanating from the person inside when he reached this place.
Thinking that, he stopped restraining himself and began applying full pressure to the person inside. In an instant, a muffled groan sounded from behind the door, followed by the sound of something collapsing to the floor.
Dumbledore pushed open the door. When he saw the back of the man's head as he lay prone on the ground, his expression nearly froze. For a moment, he could not speak.
Standing beside him, He Shenyan asked, "Forgive me for acting without asking you first. But the stench on this fellow makes me quite certain he is not one of your kind."
"Yes... yes."
Dumbledore's trembling right hand rose and fell. After a moment, he finally remembered where his glasses were.
He removed them, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "This was once one of my students. His name is Tom Riddle. I mean the one on the back of his head. He was exceptionally talented at school, but unfortunately, he went down the wrong path."
"He launched widespread terrorist attacks throughout England, attempting to control the entire world. We paid a terrible price to defeat him, and after that, he vanished. I never expected that he could infiltrate the school."
As Dumbledore spoke of this history, he seemed to grow much older at once, yet also much more relaxed, as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
After listening, He Shenyan unusually made no comment. Still, there was a measure of disdain in the way he stared at that inhuman face.
Then, he snapped his fingers lightly.
The man on the floor immediately woke up. He scrambled to his feet, staring at Dumbledore in terror while reaching for the bald back of his own head. A voice cursed, "Idiot! What are you touching?"
"M-Master, Master, Dumbledore is... is here..."
He looked as though he were about to faint. Dumbledore sighed again. "Please turn around, Mr. Quirrell."
Quirrell was neither frightened by the voice's curses and threats nor willing to obey its attempts to stop him and order him to draw his wand.
He chose to obey Dumbledore's gentle command.
Quirrell turned around, trembling.
An ugly face moved on the back of his head. It had narrow scarlet eyes burning with the flames of hatred, a flat nose made of nothing but two slits, and a voice as cold as a snake's tongue flicking out. "Dumbledore. What are you waiting for? Do it!"
All the emotions Dumbledore had revealed earlier were swept away.
He stood straight, utterly unafraid of that horrifying face. He drew his wand but did not cast a spell. He merely said one sentence, his tone even carrying a trace of pity. "Tom, you never needed to go this far."
The person—or rather, the face—he called Tom roared, "Enough! You hypocritical old fool! Do it! What are you still pretending for?!"
"I think it would be better not to act just yet."
He Shenyan suddenly spoke. Squinting, he stared at the ugly creature that had lost its human form and said something astonishing.
"You truly have admirable courage, Mr. Tom Riddle. You dared to rashly split your soul when you knew next to nothing about it, dividing it into several conscious entities. Admirable courage, but utterly foolish."
Tom's narrow scarlet eyes widened. He was so furious that he could only force out a few indistinct words. "How dare you. How dare you?!"
His focus was actually on being called foolish.
"Of course I dare, Mr. Tom Riddle. Look at what you are now. Do you dare claim you are not? You are not merely foolish. How is your current form any different from that of a parasite?"
He Shenyan sneered, but quickly lost interest in it.
He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, simply sealing Tom's mouth with Magic Power. Then he pointed casually, and a beam of black light struck the face. Tom Riddle opened his mouth in a silent scream.
A few seconds later, he flowed down from the back of Quirrell's head like a sheet of paper. Quirrell fainted on the spot and collapsed again, breaking his nose and bleeding all over the floor. He Shenyan glanced at him and cast a hemostatic spell on the pitiful man.
A coerced accomplice, an unfortunate assistant—perhaps he was guilty, but his crimes did not warrant death. Besides, there was no need to demand that everyone choose righteous self-sacrifice in the face of life and death.
Yes, in that brief moment, he had already gone through Quirrell's memories and learned how Tom Riddle had threatened and tempted him.
Dumbledore stepped forward, picked up the silently cursing Tom Riddle, who looked like a piece of skin, and looked to the Mage questioningly.
The latter merely sighed.
"That's enough, Dumbledore. I believe you have other uses for him, don't you? After the meeting tonight, we can discuss the matter of studying. For now, go and attend to your business. Don't worry about me. I'll look around on my own."
Dumbledore nodded and left. He truly had things to do now, such as summoning the Ministry of Magic to announce that the long-fugitive Voldemort had been captured, sending Quirrell to Azkaban, interrogating Voldemort, or using magic to locate his Horcruxes.
Even if He Shenyan had not said anything, he would have said that he needed to leave for a while. Since He Shenyan was being so understanding, he was happy to let him go on his own.
The Mage turned and left decisively. To be frank, he rather liked this castle. The magic within it was extremely ancient. Its backwardness was one thing, but its concepts were very interesting. As he wandered around without realizing it, he eventually reached the Seventh Floor.
Before you continue