The New Professor

Zhang Wen felt that his luck had probably been used up back in the womb.

Transmigrating once was not enough; he had to transmigrate twice. The first time, he was thrown into the Type-Moon Universe, inexplicably stuffed into the Fifth Holy Grail War, and became Saber's Master. He still found that period absurd when he looked back—fighting a bunch of lunatics and heroic spirits for a wish-granting cup, and almost losing his life in Fuyuki City.

Having barely survived, the Counter Force probably felt that he, a foreign object, was an eyesore and kicked him right out of the Type-Moon Universe.

The good news was that Artoria was still around.

The bad news was that he had transmigrated again.

At this moment, Zhang Wen stood in a shabby alley in London, staring at a crooked sign before him—"The Leaky Cauldron".

"Master, the density of magic here is very low." Artoria stood behind him, dressed in casual clothes with her blonde hair tied into a ponytail, looking just like an ordinary European girl. Of course, that was assuming one ignored the invisible Excalibur at her waist.

"I know." Zhang Wen took a deep breath. "And I probably know where we are."

He looked down at the copy of the Daily Prophet he had just pocketed from a roadside newsstand. The front page read: "Gilderoy Lockhart is set to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts!"

The date was August 1992.

Zhang Wen closed his eyes and swiftly searched his mind for the novels and movies he had consumed in his past life.

Harry Potter. The second year. The Chamber of Secrets. The Basilisk. Voldemort's diary. And that Lockhart who knew how to do nothing except smile.

"Great." He opened his eyes, his tone flat. "Another world with a big villain."

Artoria frowned slightly. "Master, you don't seem surprised at all."

"I'm extremely surprised, I'm just acting quite calm." Zhang Wen folded the newspaper and shoved it into his pocket. "Let's go, we're going in."

The Leaky Cauldron was filled with a mixed odor of cheap Butterbeer and tobacco.

A few wizards sat in the corners talking in low voices. Tom, the pub landlord, wiped a glass, glanced up at them, and lowered his head again.

Zhang Wen found a table by the window and sat down, ordering a Butterbeer for each of himself and Artoria.

"The situation right now is this." He lowered his voice. "We've transmigrated into a magical world. This world has a magic school called Hogwarts, a big villain named Voldemort, and a savior named Harry Potter."

Artoria listened attentively and nodded. "It sounds somewhat similar to the legends of Britain."

"Pretty much, they're all stories of kids saving the world." Zhang Wen took a sip of the Butterbeer, unexpectedly finding it not bad. "The point is, we currently have no identities, no money, and no way back."

"What does Master plan to do?"

Zhang Wen fell silent for a few seconds.

His gaze landed on the radiant smiling face of Lockhart on the front page of the newspaper.

A bold idea took shape in his mind.

Gilderoy Lockhart was in a very good mood today.

He had just signed the contract for his new book, and the royalties were generous enough for him to buy three more sets of gold-trimmed robes. More importantly, Dumbledore had personally invited him to Hogwarts to serve as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Goodness, he was simply too popular.

Lockhart hummed a little tune as he walked out of Flourish and Blotts, turning into the alley beside Diagon Alley. He planned to take a shortcut back to his residence to carefully select the luggage he would take to Hogwarts—twenty-seven sets of robes was the bare minimum, and he had to bring at least five hundred photographs.

Then he saw a young man with an Asian face blocking the middle of the path.

"Mr. Lockhart?" The young man smiled. "I've long admired your reputation."

Lockhart instinctively flashed his trademark smile, revealing eight teeth. "Oh, another fan? Would you like an autograph? I'm in a good mood today—"

"No, I want to talk to you." The young man said. "About those adventure stories written in your books."

"Of course! What would you like to know? Is it the time I subdued a yeti with my bare hands, or—"

"What I want to know is," the young man's smile remained unchanged, but his tone shifted, "how you stole other people's experiences and wrote them as your own stories."

Lockhart's smile froze on his face.

"You... what are you talking about?"

"Memory Charm." The young man said, word by word. "You cast Memory Charms on those true adventurers and then claimed their stories as your own. Right, Mr. Lockhart?"

The alley fell silent for three seconds.

Lockhart's hand darted toward the wand in his pocket—

Then he found that a sword was already pressed against his neck.

He hadn't even seen where that blonde woman had popped out from.

"I suggest you put your hand down." The woman's voice was as calm as if she were commenting on today's nice weather.

Lockhart slowly raised both hands, his smile vanishing completely. His lips trembled.

"You... what do you want?"

Zhang Wen pulled the wand out of his pocket and twirled it in his hand.

"First, your professorship. Second, your identity. Third, all your memories."

"What?!"

"Just kidding, scrap the third one." Zhang Wen tucked Lockhart's wand into his own belt. "But the first two are serious. You're going to tell Dumbledore that you have an urgent matter and can't go, and then recommend me to replace you."

Lockhart's eyes widened. "Are you insane? How could Dumbledore accept a—a—"

"An expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts from the East?" Zhang Wen finished the sentence for him. "You don't need to worry about that. You just need to write a recommendation letter, and I'll handle the rest."

"Why should I help you?"

Artoria's sword moved slightly, the blade reflecting a cold glint.

"Because if you don't help me," Zhang Wen's tone remained gentle, "I'll make your fraud public knowledge. How much do you think the Daily Prophet would pay for this headline?"

Lockhart's complexion turned white, then green, then green and white.

Finally, he swallowed hard, his voice faint. "What... what do you want me to write?"

Three days later.

Albus Dumbledore sat in the Headmaster's Office, looking at the letter in his hands, his eyebrows raised slightly.

Lockhart's letter was written with profound sincerity, stating that he had suddenly received an urgent overseas mission—reportedly, a nest of yetis had been discovered in the Himalayas, requiring him to handle it personally. Therefore, he had to regretfully give up the professorship, but he strongly recommended an expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts from the East: Mr. Zhang Wen.

At the bottom of the letter was a small postscript: "This person's strength is unfathomable, and I pale in comparison."

Dumbledore put down the letter, took off his half-moon spectacles, and wiped them.

The position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had been cursed for so many years, and finding someone every year was a massive headache. Lockhart had originally been his fallback choice—to be honest, he knew full well what Lockhart's true level was.

Now Lockhart had run off, and there were less than two weeks until the start of term.

Dumbledore sighed, picked up his pen, and wrote an invitation letter to this "Mr. Zhang Wen".

It couldn't possibly be any worse than Lockhart anyway.

When Zhang Wen received the invitation letter, he was having dinner with Artoria in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Done." He handed the letter to Artoria. "Dumbledore wants me to go to Hogwarts for an interview next week."

Artoria finished reading the letter and looked up. "Master, are you sure you want to do this? You don't know the magic of this world."

This was a very realistic problem.

Zhang Wen had learned some basic magecraft theory in the Type-Moon Universe, but that was magecraft from the Type-Moon system, which was entirely different from the magic of the Harry Potter world. He couldn't even use a wand—though he currently had Lockhart's in his possession.

"That's why we still have two weeks." Zhang Wen pulled out a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 bought from Flourish and Blotts. "Starting today, crash course."

Artoria looked at the thickness of that book and wore a subtle expression.

"Master, are you serious?"

"I managed to learn basic Reinforcement Magecraft within a month in the Type-Moon Universe; learning a few spells here shouldn't be any harder than that." Zhang Wen opened to the first page. "Besides, Lockhart couldn't even teach second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts, so my standards don't need to be that high."

"But you at least need to be able to perform some basic demonstrations."

"That's why I have you." Zhang Wen said righteously. "You handle the fighting at critical moments, and I'll do the talking. Clear division of labor, perfect cooperation."

Artoria was silent for a moment.

"Master, I am a knight, not your thug."

"Isn't a knight's duty to protect their Master? Protecting me from losing face is also a form of protection."

"...That logic has flaws."

"You think it has flaws because you haven't thought it through carefully."

Artoria decided not to argue with him about this.

Over the next two weeks, Zhang Wen's days were extremely fulfilling.

During the day, he soaked in various bookstores in Diagon Alley, buying up every Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook he could find. Returning to the Leaky Cauldron at night, he practiced spells facing the textbooks.

The results were somewhat better than he had anticipated.

The Magic Circuits of the Type-Moon Universe still worked in this world; although the systems differed, magical energy was magical energy. He quickly mastered the basic Disarming Charm and Shield Charm, and though their power was still far behind that of proper wizards, at least he could use them.

Artoria observed silently from the side, occasionally offering commentary.

"Your posture for the Clearing Charm is wrong."

"What do you expect, I've never been to a magic school."

"Tilt thirty degrees to the left."

Zhang Wen did as told. A red beam of light shot from the tip of his wand, accurately striking a chair in the corner of the room. The chair flew out and smashed into the wall with a loud crash.

Tom's shout came from downstairs: "Guests upstairs, please mind the public property!"

"Sorry!" Zhang Wen shouted toward the doorway, then turned back to Artoria. "Look, I learn pretty fast."

"The chair is shattered."

"That's because I didn't control my strength well, not an issue with the direction."

Artoria made no comment.

Two weeks later, September 1st.

Zhang Wen stood before Hogwarts Castle, looking up at those soaring spires and fluttering banners.

To say he wasn't shocked would be a lie.

The Clock Tower, headquarters of the Mage's Association in the Type-Moon Universe, was grand enough, but Hogwarts possessed an entirely different feel. This castle carried a certain ancient and warm aura, resembling a massive, living creature.

"Larger than Camelot," Artoria evaluated.

Zhang Wen glanced at her. "You're comparing it to your own royal city?"

"Speaking solely of architectural scale."

Well, if the King of Britain said it was bigger than Camelot, then it was certainly big enough.

The castle doors swung open, and a stern witch wearing emerald-green robes and square spectacles walked out.

Zhang Wen recognized her—Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration, Head of Gryffindor House.

"Mr. Zhang?" Professor McGonagall looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on Artoria for an extra second. "Headmaster Dumbledore is waiting for you. Please follow me."

Zhang Wen straightened his robes—these were custom-made specifically for him at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, black, simple, without any flashy decorations. They were completely different from those gold-trimmed and purple-edged trinkets of Lockhart's.

He took a deep breath and stepped into Hogwarts.

His teaching career officially began.

As for whether he could actually handle this job—

To be honest, he had no idea himself either.

But at least he was better than Lockhart.

That standard might be a bit low, but it was still a standard nonetheless.