St.
Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
In the reception area, Thorne sat on a bench flipping through a Hogwarts information pamphlet.
His eyes kept drifting around the room.
Bugs were everywhere.
Bugs of every shape and condition filled the space, their overlapping chirps and buzzes forming a constant background hum as they discussed their ailments.
Four-legged mosquitoes.
Nose-bugs with mantis-like forelimbs.
Small trembling insects.
Plenty missing limbs or other body parts.
Because they were all bugs, Thorne didn’t find the scene particularly strange.
If anything, the noisy, chaotic, yet strangely orderly atmosphere gave him the odd feeling of being back in a crowded county hospital in the human world.
Just with bugs instead of people.
The reception door opened.
A bee head poked inside.
“Thorne.” Dumbledore smiled.
“If you’ve finished your visit, we can head out.
The Portkey request has been approved.” Thorne immediately closed the pamphlet and stood up, following the old bee out of the reception area.
The two of them—one man, one bug—walked down the corridor toward a narrow little room.
Inside sat what looked like a fly wearing a healer’s uniform.
To be honest, that round, plump body gave Thorne a powerful sense of dissonance.
He didn’t have the energy to stare, though.
He hesitated and started to speak.
“Professor, about that—” “Sorry, Mr.
Thorne.” Dumbledore cut him off smoothly, voice still mild.
“Unless I want to lose a walking cash cow—no, an excellent professor—” He paused, as if realizing the wording was off.
“I absolutely cannot allow you to keep touring the critical care wards.” Thorne went quiet for a second, then couldn’t help asking, “But Headmaster… are you saying seventy percent of this place is critical care?” As he spoke, his gaze had already dropped to his system panel.
[Current Special Environment: St.
Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries (31.3%)] [Reward Obtained: Soul Vessel Fragment ×1] Dumbledore glanced back at him and smiled faintly.
“Mr.
Thorne.” “We’re wizards.” “You’ll get used to it.” He signed the form the fly healer handed him.
“…Wizards, huh.” Thorne closed the system panel with a speechless expression.
He had a strong feeling that his future as a teacher in this world was going to be… interesting.
Under Ministry supervision, Thorne had been allowed a quick tour of the first, fifth, and sixth floors of St.
Mungo’s.
The middle floors were apparently “too dangerous”—in other words, the critical areas Dumbledore had mentioned—and off-limits.
Just reading the department names was enough to kill anyone’s curiosity.
Biological Damage Ward.
Strange Pathogen Infection Ward.
Potion and Plant Poisoning Department.
None of them sounded like places a Muggle should be wandering around.
Which, Thorne had to admit, lined up with what Dumbledore said.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling curious.
Mainly because back in Hallownest, he’d seen plenty of bugs infected with all kinds of weird things.
Both on their bodies and in their dreams.
He kind of wanted to compare.
The thought only circled once in his head before he let it go.
Then he watched Dumbledore pick something up from the side.
It was a very old-looking toilet plunger.
“This is the Portkey.” The old bee’s tone was as casual as if he were introducing a teacup.
“It’ll take us where we need to go.
Just hold on tight.” He was already gripping one end of the plunger.
“One moment.” Dumbledore seemed to remember something and looked at Thorne.
“I noticed you were reading the Hogwarts pamphlet earlier.” “My earlier explanation was rather general.” “That brochure should give you a more complete picture… Any thoughts?” Thorne looked confused but obediently grabbed the other end of the handle.
“Well… how to put it.” He thought for a moment, then answered honestly.
“I didn’t finish it.
I only got through the Slytherin section.” “I don’t really agree with their policy of only accepting students from wizarding families.” “Strictly speaking, that’s a form of racial discrimination—ahhh!!!” He never finished the sentence.
Thorne suddenly felt something hook him hard from behind the navel and yank.
The force was impossible to resist.
In the next instant, his feet left the ground and he was violently pulled upward.
He forced his eyes open and saw Dumbledore across from him, expression perfectly calm, clearly used to this.
Then the world started rushing forward at insane speed.
Wind roared in his ears.
His vision blurred into nothing.
Thorne’s hand stayed glued to the plunger like it was magnetic, dragging him forward, faster and faster.
Until— Thud!
His feet slammed back onto solid ground.
If not for some invisible force steadying him, he was sure he would have face-planted.
Thorne stumbled two steps before catching his balance.
“Whoa…” He rubbed his stomach, voice weak.
“So this is how people get around in the magical world?” “Feels like getting thrown in a washing machine and spun for a full cycle…” He looked up at the still-smiling Dumbledore, resigned.
“Fine, fine.
I’ll get used to it.” Then he turned his head without thinking.
The sight in front of him made him go quiet.
A vast lake spread out below them.
At the far edge of the shore, perched on a cliff, stood a magnificent, almost unreal castle.
“Temporary Portkeys tend to land in somewhat random spots.” Dumbledore smiled.
“Welcome, Professor Thorne.
This is where you’ll be working from now on.” He led Thorne toward the castle.
Along the way, the old bee gave a detailed explanation of Hogwarts—its history, the houses, the staff—everything.
Thorne didn’t hear a single word.
His entire attention was locked on the towering castle in front of him.
They reached the massive front doors.
Dumbledore suddenly looked surprised.
“Oh, Severus.
What brings you here?” “I thought you usually avoided the school during summer.
I was planning to visit you in London.” “…” The man standing at the doors stayed silent for a moment before answering in a cold voice.
“I only came back to fetch some potion ingredients.” “As for visiting—if you’re willing to pay overtime.” “Merlin’s smallest sock!” Dumbledore laughed.
“Severus, how could you let my ears hear such a sinful phrase as ‘overtime’?” The man didn’t reply.
Just standing there, he gave off a damp, oppressive feeling.
His voice was low and hard, like someone who had lived in shadows for years.
While listening to the two of them chat, Thorne formed an impression of the man.
Not someone to mess with.
After a few more words, Dumbledore stepped aside, fully revealing the man to Thorne.
In the next second, Thorne froze completely.
Furry.
After spending an entire day surrounded by bugs, the sight hit Thorne like a visual sledgehammer.
“This is Severus Snape.” Dumbledore introduced him naturally.
“Potions professor at Hogwarts and Head of Slytherin House.” “And this—” He gestured toward Thorne.
“Is Eric Thorne.” “For now…” Dumbledore hesitated, clearly unsure.
“His position is still being finalized.” Snape stared coldly at the young man who was currently gawking at him.
His eyebrows slowly drew together.
“What?” “Is our new colleague an idiot?” The words snapped Thorne back to reality.
He stepped forward at once and grabbed Snape’s hand with sudden, intense enthusiasm, voice sincere and excited.
“Hello, Professor Snape.
You’re absolutely right—Slytherin is correct!” “What?” “I mean, we mammals are clearly superior to those arthropods!” Thorne said it with complete conviction.
Because standing in front of him, in his eyes, was a massive bat.