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Chapter 18: Dumbledore
Chapter 18: Dumbledore
"I thought you would arrive at Hogwarts earlier, Sherlock."
The unassuming, friendly-looking old man was none other than Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts.
"Take this seat, and I'll introduce you to the students shortly."
He gestured for Sherlock to sit beside him on his left.
Once Sherlock was seated next to Dumbledore, he finally answered the headmaster's first question.
"I arrived later because I wanted to refine my teaching plan at home."
When speaking to Dumbledore, Sherlock's tone was far from the cold demeanor he usually adopted, and the respect in his voice was evident to anyone who heard it.
If the original owner had any special feelings for anyone, according to his diary, it was only for Dumbledore.
He held the old man, renowned as the greatest white Wizard of the twentieth century, in the highest regard.
Dumbledore praised him, saying, "Thorough preparation will help you adapt to your role more quickly."
At this moment, the first-years were still crossing the lake. The older students, already seated in the Great Hall, were chatting excitedly with classmates they hadn't seen over the holiday, and the professors were engaged in their own conversations.
There was no formal constraint on students or teachers before the Sorting Ceremony began.
Dumbledore looked at Sherlock with his bright blue eyes and smiled, saying, "To be honest, Sherlock, I wasn't sure you were ready to take on the role of professor at first."
Sherlock adopted a receptive demeanor, listening attentively as Dumbledore continued.
"The last time you came to Hogwarts seeking a position, I told you that what you lacked wasn't magical knowledge, but the maturity of an adult Wizard."
"Without a strong inner self, even the most powerful magic is just a facade, and I couldn't entrust you with the position of professor."
"However, after the incident with the originally appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, I had to reconsider my judgment."
"You often think I am omniscient and omnipotent, but in reality, I can make mistakes in my choices, just like anyone else."
He placed his hands together on the table, without any pretense of authority.
His words were gentle, as if he were discussing a recent mistake of mistaking yogurt for milk and adding it to his coffee with a close junior.
"So, I might have been too demanding of you. After all, while power can be easily gained, true inner strength cannot be achieved through words alone."
"Therefore, I think you deserve a chance."
At this point, he finally revealed the purpose of their conversation.
"The letter of appointment Minerva sent you was incomplete. I need to add a point."
"Hogwarts is formally hiring you as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for this year only."
"This year will serve as your probationary period. After you complete this year's teaching, I will consider whether to continue your appointment. If I still believe you are not ready, I will replace you next year."
Upon hearing this, Sherlock, who had been mentally zoning out, couldn't help but roll his eyes internally.
Do you even know yourself, Headmaster Dumbledore?
Who can last as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts for more than a year?
Even I can only pray that I'll finish this year's dangerous work with all my parts intact, and you’re telling me that you might consider replacing me next year?
Are you waiting for my ghost to come back and haunt you after I die?
Of course, Sherlock wouldn’t actually say these thoughts out loud, and Dumbledore had no time to pry into his jumbled thoughts and figure out what strange ideas he was having.
Sherlock spoke with a serious and sincere expression.
“I won’t let you down, Professor. I believe that next year, I will receive the official appointment letter for a permanent position at Hogwarts.”
Dumbledore’s gaze shifted to the first-years led in by Professor Mcgonagall, who were about to undergo the Sorting Ceremony. He spoke softly.
“I hope that at this time next year, you will tell me in person that you haven’t let yourself down.”
Their conversation ended there, as the Sorting Ceremony was about to begin. Everyone fell silent, listening to the old, tattered hat sing as it sorted each first-year into their respective Houses.
Sherlock felt that he had managed to get through his first meeting with Dumbledore.
Even if this old man, who seemed quite pleasant from their brief interaction, was actually as devious as the movie descriptions insinuated, it was unlikely that he was constantly peering into the minds of those he spoke with.
Sherlock hadn’t felt any discomfort during their conversation, and he sincerely hoped that nothing strange had probed his mind.
As the Sorting Ceremony began, a middle-aged wizard with greasy, seaweed-like hair, dressed in a black robe, and with a pale, sullen face, stood up from his seat and left the Great Hall. He gave off an aura of a large bat.
When he passed by Sherlock, their eyes met briefly.
Those eyes were like a stagnant pool, hollow, silent, and desolate, much like the aura he emitted.
Even more ominous than the Thestrals, which only those who have seen death can perceive.
The only professor in Hogwarts with such an aura, according to Sherlock’s vague memory, was Professor Snape, the Potions teacher.
Was he a hero or a villain in the original story?
After much thought, Sherlock couldn’t recall the final characterization of this person and decided not to dwell on it. It was best to avoid him as much as possible while in the castle.
As the Sorting Ceremony concluded and the start-of-term feast began, the bat-like Snape hurriedly returned. He leaned down to whisper to Dumbledore and Professor Mcgonagall, and Sherlock, sitting nearby, faintly heard the surnames “Potter” and “Weasley.”
Professor Mcgonagall’s face turned ashen with anger, and she stood up and walked into a small room adjacent to the Great Hall.
Dumbledore’s smile faded, and three minutes after Professor Mcgonagall left, he followed her in, his expression serious.
Sherlock could guess the reason for their serious expressions. Snape must have discovered Harry and Ron arriving at school in a flying car.
However, this was none of his concern, as he was currently engaged in small talk with Professor Flitwick, who taught Charms.
(End of Chapter)
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