Hogwarts.
Headmaster’s Office.
Professor McGonagall stormed into Dumbledore’s office, only to find him happily tucking into a pile of Cockroach Clusters.
“Oh, Albus!” Dumbledore’s reaction immediately choked the words right back down Professor McGonagall’s throat.
On the office walls, the former Headmasters in the magical portraits exchanged glances across their frames upon witnessing this scene, then silently stepped out of sight.
However, heads poked out from the edges of the frames from time to time, proving that the former Headmasters were all looking forward to the righteous Professor McGonagall exercising the authority of the Deputy Headmistress upon Dumbledore.
‘We have long been on Professor McGonagall’s side!’
“Oh, Minerva, I thought you would be busy with the young witches and wizards’ enrollment matters.
So, would you like to try one?”
Why else would Dumbledore be the Headmaster while Professor McGonagall was only the Deputy Headmistress?
Dumbledore’s ability to remain calm in the face of such a sudden intrusion was something worth learning from.
Dumbledore enthusiastically invited Professor McGonagall to try his bizarrely flavored sweets.
Professor McGonagall ignored the Cockroach Clusters crawling all over the desk—unsure if they were real or not—and asked Dumbledore directly: “Albus, do we have a candidate for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for next term?”
Thanks to Lord Voldemort’s curse, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts had become a disposable “consumable” that lasted only a year.
Perhaps it was precisely because the turnover rate for this subject’s teacher was so high that it solidified the rumors of Voldemort’s curse.
In short, this position was heavily jinxed.
If the professor in charge of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts only stayed for one year, they would at most suffer minor disasters or misfortunes.
For example, broken hands, broken feet, or injuries that would leave one bedridden.
But once a professor intended to “defy the heavens and change their fate” by continuing as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for a second year, then that wizard would, in all likelihood, invite ultimate misfortune.
The general category of misfortune was meeting an untimely death.
In short, year after year, the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts became increasingly potent.
Hogwarts had even reached a point where it was difficult to find a single professor.
In Professor McGonagall’s impression, Professor Dumbledore seemed to have spent the entire summer holidays running around to secure the next academic year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
The reason the word “seemed” was used here was because Professor McGonagall felt she might have been hoodwinked by the old man before her.
Looking at Dumbledore’s current leisurely and comfortable appearance, he did not look like someone who had been busy for an entire holiday.
Could Dumbledore have been slacking off in his office the entire time?
At the thought of herself being so busy she could barely keep up, while Dumbledore, the Headmaster, was drinking coffee and eating sweets in his office, Professor McGonagall felt her hands getting a bit itchy.
If Dumbledore couldn’t recognize her Animagus form, she would definitely give him a couple of swipes.
Unfortunately, they were just too familiar with each other, and the mature cat-girl still had an image to maintain.
Sensing Professor McGonagall’s unfriendly gaze, Dumbledore hurriedly put away the Cockroach Clusters and gave two dry coughs.
“Ahem, in fact, I have already found a candidate for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.”
“Oh?” Professor McGonagall lowered her wand slightly.
“Then, the professor who will be responsible for teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this school year will be…”
“Quirinus,” Dumbledore replied.
“Quirinus Quirrell, do you remember him?”
“Professor Quirrell?” Dumbledore had truly given her an unexpected name.
“Wasn’t Professor Quirrell the Professor of Muggle Studies before he left for Albania?”
How should one put it—this candidate selection was quite subtle.
Quirrell had once been Professor McGonagall’s student, and she understood him well.
He was a very intelligent young man who had studied excellent results in school; later, he joined Hogwarts and became their colleague, responsible for teaching the Muggle Studies class.
Professor McGonagall acknowledged Professor Quirrell’s knowledge base, but as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, having only theoretical knowledge did not seem enough.
“I remember when Professor Quirrell left Hogwarts, he said he intended to go to Albania to gain some practical combat experience?”
This could be considered a tacit little secret among wizards.
Albania was located on the edge of the European magical world and naturally belonged to a lawless zone.
It was unrealistic for Quirinus Quirrell to want to gain practical combat experience in the British wizarding world.
If one messed around in Britain, they would either become a Dark Wizard and never be able to show their face again, or be dragged off to Azkaban by Aurors to receive “high-end academic” re-education.
If one wanted to gain practical combat experience openly, they would either have to go around looking for Dark Wizards to “practice” on, or simply travel abroad.
The Ministry of Magic certainly had a wide reach, but no matter how wide, it couldn’t reach all the way to Albania.
“Yes, during the holidays, Quirinus contacted me saying he hoped to become the new school year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
We certainly can’t refuse such an enthusiastic young man, can we?”
Professor McGonagall’s lips twitched slightly; she had something she wanted to say.
You didn’t say that when Tom Riddle wanted to seek the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher back then.
Though the words didn’t come out, Professor McGonagall suddenly realized something.
If Professor Quirrell had contacted Dumbledore in the middle of the holidays, it meant Dumbledore had been slacking off for half a month.
If Professor Quirrell had contacted Dumbledore at the beginning of the holidays, then this old white-bearded geezer had been idle for the entire summer.
An entire holiday…
Professor McGonagall suddenly felt like hitting Dumbledore with a jinx again.
However, since Dumbledore had so much time…
“Albus, I think there is something you need to know.” Professor McGonagall handed Dumbledore a piece of parchment.
On the parchment was written a name and an address.
“Isaac Valdore.
12 Medway Street, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London.”
Dumbledore saw at a glance that this was the address of a young wizard that Professor McGonagall had copied from an acceptance letter.
He was more curious about why Professor McGonagall had given him the address.
Could it be that Professor McGonagall intended to make him, an old man of over a hundred years, work overtime?
“I visited Miss Granger’s home today and received some information from her.”
“Mmhmm?” Dumbledore flexed his fingers and quietly opened the candy box containing the Cockroach Clusters.
Professor McGonagall pretended not to see his actions and continued: “Miss Granger once met Valdore, and Valdore made a prophecy for her.”
“Oh?” A look of interest appeared in Dumbledore’s eyes.
A prophecy, how nostalgic.
“By the way, Miss Granger also told me that this Valdore not only knows how to make a prophecy, but also has short platinum-blonde hair.
It is worth mentioning that he also has a pair of heterochromatic eyes.”