The past month had been the most comfortable period Leon Cromwell had experienced since arriving in this world.
For someone born in the twenty-first century, late-twentieth-century London was far from perfect, but even its crowded streets and polluted air felt like paradise compared to the poisonous swamps of Albania.
After ten years surrounded by monsters, corrosive mist, and endless silence, ordinary civilization seemed almost miraculous.
During his first few years in the forest, Leon had repeatedly tried to leave.
Whenever he approached the outer boundary, however, an invisible influence clouded his thoughts and persuaded him to turn back.
Looking at the situation now, he suspected Voldemort had placed some form of concealment or repelling enchantment over the region.
The constant supply of monsters had also distracted him.
Once Leon discovered that killing them granted experience, his desire to escape gradually faded beneath his obsession with leveling up and researching new spells.
Loneliness had never troubled him as much as it would have affected most people.
In his previous life, he had willingly spent countless hours studying D&D rules, planning character builds, and playing complicated role-playing games.
Ten years of isolation had been difficult, but not unbearable.
Even after returning to civilization, Leon had not wasted the month before the school year.
His first task had been renovating the abandoned mansion beside Highgate Cemetery.
Several ghosts and vampires had occupied the property, but they were quickly eliminated after refusing his request to leave.
Once the building was secure, Leon carved a conversion array beneath the foundation and redirected the negative energy flowing through the local ley lines into a stable power source for his arcane workshop.
His second priority was magical research.
Leon returned to Diagon Alley and purchased nearly every publicly available book on British magic.
He spent weeks studying the material, carefully comparing the wand-based spellcraft of this world with the structured arcane system provided by the D&D Panel.
At first, Leon had assumed his own magic would completely surpass ordinary charms and curses.
Further study proved that conclusion dangerously arrogant.
D&D spells were surprisingly materialistic.
Most relied on the manipulation of energy, matter, space, or the mind and followed recognizable principles involving mathematics, geometry, and precise arcane formulas.
Wizarding magic operated differently.
Many spells in this world were closer to conceptual commands than conventional energy manipulation.
Instead of producing an effect through a carefully constructed process, they appeared to impose a rule directly upon reality.
The Killing Curse was the clearest example.
D&D magic did not possess many effects capable of causing unconditional death.
Even the most dangerous necromancy usually required a target to be weakened, fail a saving throw, or possess fewer than a certain number of hit points.
Sixth-circle [Disintegrate] and seventh-circle [Finger of Death] were terrifying, but both could still be resisted, countered, or survived under the right circumstances.
[Avada Kedavra] ignored those limitations.
The curse could not be blocked by an ordinary magical shield, and no established countercurse could neutralize it after it was fired.
If the green bolt struck a living target directly, death followed immediately.
Leon could cover himself with twenty layers of defensive magic, yet a successful hit might still kill him.
The realization shattered much of his earlier confidence.
Reaching level eleven had made him exceptionally powerful, but it had not made him invincible.
This world contained magic that manipulated causality and concepts in ways the D&D System did not naturally account for.
Instead of discouraging him, the discovery strengthened Leon’s determination to advance further.
Today was the day he would officially take up his position at Hogwarts.
The students would not arrive for another week, but professors were expected to return early so they could organize their classrooms, prepare lessons, and settle into their private quarters within the castle.
Before leaving his mansion, Leon summoned the D&D Panel and reviewed his current status.
[Name: Leon Cromwell] [Race: Human] [Class: Wizard—School of Abjuration] [Level: 11—1%] [Attributes] [Strength: 8] [Dexterity: 13] [Constitution: 17] [Intelligence: 20] [Wisdom: 10] [Charisma: 12] [Feats and Class Features] [War Caster: Maintains concentration and spellcasting more effectively during combat.] [Resilient—Constitution: Constitution increased by 1; improved resistance to effects targeting physical endurance.] [Arcane Ward: Creates a magical ward that absorbs incoming damage.] [Projected Ward: Allows Arcane Ward to protect another creature.] [Abjuration Mastery: Strengthens abjuration spells and improves the stability of defensive magic.] [Weave Unbound: Spells at least two circles below the highest unlocked circle may be cast without consuming spell slots.] [Spell Slots] [First through Fourth Circle: Unlimited] [Fifth Circle: 2/2] [Sixth Circle: 1/1] Leon nodded with satisfaction after reviewing the information.
When he first transmigrated, the original owner of his body had apparently possessed enough magical talent to qualify for the Wizard class.
He had likely been an unfortunate traveler or inexperienced spellcaster who wandered into the Albanian forest and died from its poisonous environment.
The strangest part of Leon’s development was [Weave Unbound].
No comparable feature existed in the D&D rules he remembered.
It was likely a mutation created when the D&D Panel adapted itself to the unusual magical laws of the Harry Potter world.
Because of that feature, Leon could now use first-through-fourth-circle spells as freely as cantrips.
Only his fifth- and sixth-circle magic still consumed limited spell slots.
He carried little luggage beyond the ebony wand hanging from his belt.
Most of his possessions remained inside his dimensional storage, and he had already inscribed a permanent [Teleportation Circle] in the basement of his mansion.
Once he created a matching circle at Hogwarts, traveling between his home and the school would become effortless.
Leon stepped into the fireplace, took a handful of Floo Powder from a container on the mantel, and scattered it beneath his feet.
“Hogwarts!” Emerald flames surged around him.
The room twisted out of sight, and Leon vanished into the Floo Network.
Professor Minerva McGonagall remained deeply uncertain about Dumbledore’s choice for the vacant Defense Against the Dark Arts position.
The original candidate had been Gilderoy Lockhart.
Although McGonagall had little interest in his bestselling books or theatrical personality, he was at least a recognized celebrity and former Ravenclaw whose supposed achievements were known throughout Britain.
The newly appointed professor was a complete mystery.
McGonagall had never heard of Leon Cromwell.
His education, family history, professional achievements, and prior employment were all absent from the school’s records.
The only information Dumbledore had provided was that Leon possessed more than ten years of wilderness experience and practiced an obscure form of ancient magic.
Despite her reservations, McGonagall had not openly opposed the appointment.
Dumbledore often made decisions that appeared unusual at first, and she trusted his judgment enough to prepare the necessary documents and accommodations.
A sudden rush of green flames erupted inside the fireplace in her office.
A young man stepped from the fire wearing a carefully tailored black wizard’s robe.
His short black hair was neatly arranged, while years spent away from sunlight had left his complexion slightly pale.
Thin silver-framed glasses rested over deep brown eyes that carried a level of calm and confidence uncommon in someone his age.
He hardly resembled a professor.
Dressed in a Hogwarts uniform, Leon could easily have passed for a seventh-year student.
“[Prestidigitation].” Leon held his ebony wand without moving it and spoke a word McGonagall did not recognize.
The ash and Floo Powder covering his clothing disappeared instantly, leaving his robes spotless and perfectly arranged.
After cleaning himself, he offered McGonagall a polite smile and inclined his head.
“Good afternoon.
I assume you’re Professor McGonagall?” “Professor Cromwell?” McGonagall rose from behind her desk and examined him with open surprise.
“To be perfectly honest, I did not expect you to be so young.” “Youth can occasionally be an advantage, Professor,” Leon replied, seemingly unaffected by her scrutiny.
“Perhaps.” McGonagall pressed her lips into a thin line, making it clear that she had not yet formed a favorable opinion.
“Albus informed me that you lived alone in the Albanian wilderness for ten years and gained considerable experience dealing with dangerous magical creatures.
Judging by your appearance, I’m forced to wonder whether you began exploring before you were old enough to attend Hogwarts.” “I have always believed practical experience is one of the finest teachers,” Leon answered.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” “Theory is equally essential.” McGonagall gave him a long, measuring look but chose not to continue the debate.
“I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.
Professor Dumbledore is attending a meeting with the Board of Governors, so he asked me to welcome you and explain your responsibilities.” Her expression became noticeably sterner.
“He may have already discussed the position with you, but I intend to make one point perfectly clear.
Every professor at Hogwarts is responsible for ensuring that our students receive a proper magical education in a safe and healthy environment.
Defense Against the Dark Arts is an especially important subject, and carelessness will not be tolerated.” “Of course,” Leon replied.
McGonagall studied him for another moment before turning toward the door.
With a sharp motion of her wand, it swung open.
“Come with me.
I’ll show you your office and living quarters.
Once you’ve familiarized yourself with the castle, we can address the rather unpleasant matter of scheduling.” Hogwarts looked noticeably different from the version Leon remembered seeing in movies during his previous life.
Without hundreds of students filling the corridors, the ancient castle seemed colder and far more mysterious.
Empty suits of armor stood motionless beneath flickering torches, portraits whispered among themselves, and distant footsteps echoed through hallways that appeared to have no end.
Leon followed McGonagall across several shifting staircases as they made their way toward the second floor.
He still could not understand why anyone considered moving staircases a reasonable architectural choice.
Their only practical purpose seemed to be making students lost and late for class.
Leon resisted the urge to share that observation with the stern witch walking ahead of him.
After crossing another corridor, McGonagall opened a heavy oak door.
“This will be your office.
The room has been thoroughly inspected, and all traces of the previous professor and his dark magic have been removed.” Leon entered and looked around.
The office was far better than he had expected.
It was a wide, fan-shaped chamber with tall windows that allowed plenty of natural light to enter.
Beyond the glass stretched the castle grounds, the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and the distant Quidditch pitch with its towering goalposts.
“A door at the rear connects to your private bedroom,” McGonagall explained.
“You may alter or decorate both rooms however you wish, but Hogwarts will not reimburse you for the expense.” While Leon considered where to inscribe his teleportation circle, McGonagall flicked her wand.
A thick roll of parchment tied with a red ribbon flew from her sleeve and hovered in front of him.
“This is your timetable for the coming school year.” The parchment initially appeared blank.
As soon as Leon took it, however, rows of black writing spread across the surface.
Monday morning contained two periods with first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins.
The afternoon listed two more periods for third-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.
Tuesday appeared almost completely filled, and the remaining weekdays were equally crowded.
Leon silently read through the schedule.
Nearly every available hour had been assigned to a class.
“Professor McGonagall,” he said slowly, “unless I’ve misunderstood something, this entire schedule belongs to me?” “Of course.” McGonagall looked at him as though the answer should have been obvious.
“Hogwarts employs only one Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.” Leon took a breath and allowed his Intelligence score of twenty to calculate the workload.
“So I’m expected to teach every student from first through seventh year across all four houses.
That comes to approximately forty classroom hours each week.” “Is there a problem?” McGonagall raised one eyebrow.
“Every professor manages a similar burden.
Professor Flitwick teaches Charms to all seven years, while Professor Sprout is responsible for the entire Herbology curriculum.
The workload is demanding, but it is a longstanding Hogwarts tradition.” Leon lowered his gaze to the densely packed timetable.
For the first time since accepting Dumbledore’s offer, he had the unmistakable feeling that the old wizard had tricked him.