Headmaster's Interview

Dumbledore's office was even messier than Zhang Wen had imagined.

All sorts of small silver instruments covered the desk and shelves. Some were spinning, some were smoking, and some emitted faint buzzing sounds. Portraits of previous headmasters hung on the walls; most were dozing, while a few stared curiously at the visitors.

A large fiery-red bird perched on a stand by the door, tilting its head as it examined Zhang Wen.

Fawkes. A phoenix.

Zhang Wen silently gave himself a warning. Don't show weakness. You're a man who's survived a Holy Grail War, for crying out loud.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk in a purple robe embroidered with golden stars and moons. His white beard was long enough to tuck into his belt, and his blue eyes behind half-moon glasses regarded Zhang Wen with a smile.

"Please, have a seat, Mr. Zhang." Dumbledore gestured, and two chairs slid automatically to the front of the desk. "And this lady is...?"

"Artoria Pendragon." Artoria gave a slight bow, the movement textbook-perfect. "I am Zhang Wen's... companion."

She had nearly said "Servant," but corrected herself in time.

Dumbledore's gaze lingered on Artoria for a moment. Zhang Wen noticed that the old man's expression changed—only briefly, but it definitely changed.

The old man had seen something.

"Pendragon." Dumbledore repeated the surname, a hint of amusement in his tone. "A very ancient name."

Artoria's expression did not change. "A family inheritance."

Dumbledore smiled but did not press further. He turned to Zhang Wen and folded his hands on the desk.

"Mr. Zhang, Gilderoy spoke very highly of you in his letter. He said you were one of the finest Defense Against the Dark Arts specialists he had ever met."

Zhang Wen nearly laughed.

He had watched Lockhart write that letter word by word, and after it was finished, he had even made Artoria check it for hidden codes or distress signals.

"Mr. Lockhart flatters me." Zhang Wen did his best to maintain a humble expression. "I merely studied a different system of defensive magic in the East."

"Oh?" Dumbledore leaned forward with interest. "Eastern magical systems? When I was young, I visited China and Japan. The magic there truly formed a school of its own. Where did you study?"

Zhang Wen had prepared his story long ago.

"I studied at the Mage's Association in Japan during my early years, then traveled through many countries and learned from various traditions." It was half true—he had indeed spent time in Japan, except he had been fighting for his life in Fuyuki City alongside a group of Heroic Spirits.

"The Mage's Association in Japan..." Dumbledore seemed to be recalling something. "I remember their system focused on—"

"The use of ley lines and magical circuits," Zhang Wen cut in. "It differs fundamentally from British wand casting, but the underlying principles are similar when it comes to combating dark magic."

Dumbledore nodded, but Zhang Wen knew the old man would not be so easily fooled.

Sure enough, the next question came.

"Could you demonstrate it for me?"

Zhang Wen's palms grew slightly sweaty.

He took Lockhart's wand from his pocket. He had been using it for two weeks, and honestly, it felt mediocre. The wand had not chosen him, and their compatibility was poor. Whenever he cast a spell, it felt as if the wand were fighting him.

But at least it worked.

"Disarming Charm." Zhang Wen flicked his wand at a silver instrument on the desk. "Expelliarmus!"

A red beam shot from the tip of the wand and struck its target accurately. The silver instrument flew up—

A little too forcefully.

The instrument smashed straight toward a portrait on the wall. The old wizard in the painting screamed and jumped out of his frame, hiding in the neighboring portrait.

"My apologies," Zhang Wen said expressionlessly.

Dumbledore waved a hand, and the instrument flew steadily back into place.

"Your control over the force still needs practice." Dumbledore's tone was gentle. "But the magical output itself... is quite impressive."

He was telling the truth. Zhang Wen's magical circuits were on the level of the Type-Moon Universe. Converted to this world's standards, his magical reserves far surpassed those of ordinary wizards. The problem was that his fine control over wand casting was terribly lacking, like someone with immense strength who had never learned any techniques—his punch might be devastating, but eight out of ten punches would miss.

"Mr. Zhang, forgive me for being blunt." Dumbledore removed his glasses and wiped them. "Your magical reserves are impressive, but you are not proficient in wand casting."

Zhang Wen did not argue.

Trying to play mind games with an old fox on Dumbledore's level would only invite trouble.

"You are correct." He admitted it readily. "My training system does not rely on wands, so wand casting is indeed my weakness. But my theoretical knowledge of dark magic is very solid, and I also have extensive practical experience."

He was absolutely not exaggerating about practical experience. Anyone who had survived facing all sorts of Heroic Spirits and magi in the Holy Grail War could claim extensive combat experience without anyone objecting.

Dumbledore fell silent for several seconds.

Zhang Wen could feel those blue eyes scrutinizing him, as though they could see through every secret he possessed.

Then Dumbledore smiled.

"Mr. Zhang, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has an unpleasant tradition—every professor can only remain for one year."

"I've heard."

"And you are still willing to come?"

Zhang Wen thought about it. "Someone has to, right?"

Dumbledore looked at him for a few seconds, and his gaze softened.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Zhang."

After leaving the headmaster's office, Zhang Wen let out a long breath.

"Did he believe you?" Artoria asked.

"No." Zhang Wen was certain. "He just thinks I'm better than having no one. The position has been cursed for decades. No one wants it, so he has no choice."

"Then why did he hire you?"

"Because he wants to keep me under observation." Zhang Wen rubbed his chin. "To Dumbledore, if someone of unknown origins appears at Hogwarts, it's better to bring him inside and keep an eye on him than let him remain uncontrolled outside."

Artoria looked thoughtful. "That old man is very intelligent."

"You have no idea how intelligent." Zhang Wen sighed inwardly. "In this world, he's probably the closest thing to Gilgamesh's 'omniscience.' Though his personality is much better."

"Do not compare him to Gilgamesh." Artoria frowned, clearly having little fondness for that name.

Zhang Wen wisely changed the subject.

"Next, we need to sort out our accommodations. Dumbledore said the professors' quarters are at the end of the third-floor corridor, but—" He paused. "He only arranged one room."

Artoria looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I told him you were my teaching assistant."

"...Teaching assistant."

"Yes, teaching assistant. You'll be responsible for assisting me with practical demonstrations during class."

Artoria was silent for three seconds.

"Master, I am the King of Britain."

"Past tense," Zhang Wen immediately said. "Now you are Miss Artoria Pendragon, teaching assistant for Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts course."

"I refuse."

"Too late. Dumbledore has already approved it." Zhang Wen quickened his pace. "Come on, let's go see the quarters. I hear Hogwarts' food is excellent—"

Artoria's steps halted for a moment.

"...The food?"

"Yes. I heard the main meals include roast beef, roast lamb chops, Yorkshire pudding, all sorts of pies, mashed potatoes, and more desserts than you can count. And the staff meals are even more lavish than the students'."

The faintest change appeared in Artoria's expression.

If one did not look closely, it would be impossible to notice. But Zhang Wen had spent several months with her. He knew the King of Knights too well.

That was hesitation.

"Of course, if you don't want to be a teaching assistant, you can leave Hogwarts and stay outside on your own—"

"I never said I would not do it." Artoria's tone returned to calm. "A knight has a duty to protect the weak. There are many children in this school. If danger arises, I should be present."

"Yes, yes, entirely for the sake of protecting the children."

"It has nothing whatsoever to do with the food."

"I didn't say anything."

Artoria glared at him.

Zhang Wen very wisely shut his mouth.

The professors' quarters were at the end of the third-floor corridor, a two-bedroom suite with a sitting room.

Calling it "two bedrooms and a sitting room" was not quite accurate—this was Hogwarts, so it would be more fitting to call it a sitting room with a fireplace and two bedrooms. The rooms were far more spacious than Zhang Wen had expected, and the windows overlooked Black Lake. The view was quite nice.

"Dumbledore said the previous professors left this place in a complete mess." Zhang Wen looked around the empty rooms. "The last one was called Quirrell. He wrapped a turban around his head, and Voldemort's face was hidden on the back of his head."

Artoria's hand immediately went to her sword hilt.

"Don't be nervous, he's already dead." Zhang Wen hurriedly added, "It happened last year. An eleven-year-old kid took care of him."

"Eleven years old?"

"Yes, Harry Potter. He should be starting his second year this year."

Artoria released her sword hilt, but her brows remained furrowed. "An eleven-year-old child faced a threat of that level alone. There is something wrong with this school's protective measures."

She had hit the nail right on the head.

Zhang Wen silently gave the King of Knights his approval. Hogwarts' security truly was practically nonexistent—a Voldemort parasite had infiltrated the faculty, only to be dealt with by a first-year student in the end. If this were the Type-Moon Universe, the Mage's Association would have sealed off the entire school long ago.

"Isn't it good that we're here, then?" Zhang Wen patted her shoulder. "At least this year, there are two reliable adults keeping watch."

Artoria glanced at him.

The meaning in that look was clear—whether the phrase "reliable adults" included him was doubtful.

Zhang Wen pretended not to understand.

"All right, the opening feast is tomorrow." He walked to the window and looked out over Black Lake. "On September first, the students will take the train to Hogsmeade Station, then ride carriages to the school. The first-years come by boat."

"Your familiarity with this place is concerning," Artoria said.

"I did my homework."

That was obviously a lie. He had merely read the original novels.

"Dumbledore will introduce the new professors at tomorrow's opening feast. I need to make an appearance before all the students." Zhang Wen turned around. "So I need to come up with a good enough opening statement."

"A simple introduction will suffice."

"No, first impressions are important. Lockhart may be a fraud, but at least he knew how to attract attention. I don't need to be that flamboyant, but I can't be too boring either."

Artoria considered it. "As a knight, I believe actions are more convincing than words."

Zhang Wen raised an eyebrow. "You mean?"

"If you want the students to respect you, show them your strength."

"My wand casting nearly smashed Dumbledore's instrument into a portrait just now."

"I am not referring to the wand."

Zhang Wen paused, then smiled.

"You mean—"

"I can give a demonstration." Artoria's tone was calm, but Zhang Wen heard the meaning beneath it.

The King of Britain was going to make an appearance at Hogwarts' opening feast.

Now this would be entertaining.

"Then it's settled." Zhang Wen rubbed his hands together. "At tomorrow's opening feast, I'll handle the speeches, and you'll handle intimidating the crowd."

Artoria nodded.

Then she asked, "What time is dinner?"

Zhang Wen looked at the sky outside the window. "About an hour from now."

"I will familiarize myself with the castle's layout." Artoria turned toward the door. "I'll be back in an hour."

Zhang Wen watched her leave, then sat alone on the windowsill, gazing at the darkening sky.

The Forbidden Forest loomed darkly in the distance, while Black Lake's surface was as still as a mirror.

School would begin tomorrow.

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and a whole host of characters whose names he had read in the novels would all appear before him.

And he had to pretend to be a qualified professor.

Zhang Wen took out Lockhart's wand and spun it twice in his hand.

"Hopefully nothing major happens this term," he muttered to himself.

Of course, he knew that was impossible.

The Chamber of Secrets had already slumbered beneath Hogwarts for fifty years, and that Diary was probably already in the suitcase of some little red-haired girl.