“Uh…” Thorne thought for a moment and decided to answer honestly.
“Actually, our research method was pretty crude and direct.” The professors leaned forward slightly.
“We would extract the souls from certain creatures—mostly snails—and then inject them into our own bodies to observe the effects.” “Most of the soul magic I know, I learned during that process.” The room went quiet for a beat.
Almost every professor turned to look at Dumbledore at the same time.
To be fair, the description sounded a lot like dark magic.
Dumbledore, however, remained perfectly calm.
He simply raised a finger and pointed at one section of the résumé.
Mental Health History.
The professors stared for a second, then understanding dawned on their faces.
“Oh—” “I see.” They all nodded in unison.
The atmosphere suddenly made perfect sense again.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and continued.
“Very well.
Next, please demonstrate your soul magic.” Thorne hesitated.
“Um… I’ll show you the most basic application, then.” He thought for a second and added, “Could I borrow a knife?
A small one is fine.” The air went silent again.
A few seconds later, Snape expressionlessly reached into his robes, pulled out a boning knife, and set it on the table with a sharp clack.
The other professors: “…” The silence stretched.
Snape’s face was dark as he added in an icy tone, “What?
As the Potions professor, carrying a knife on my person is unreasonable?” “No, it’s very reasonable.” Thorne swallowed the urge to comment and picked up the knife.
The next second, without any hesitation, he drew the blade straight across his own wrist.
Blood sprayed across the table.
“Wait!” Several professors shot to their feet at once, ready to rush over—only to freeze in place.
Every eye was locked on the hand holding the knife.
A wisp of white, half-gas, half-liquid substance was slowly rising from it.
They all recognized the form immediately.
It was exactly like the ghosts that drifted through the halls of Hogwarts.
“How is this possible…” Snape’s brows were drawn tight.
“That’s… a soul?” Thorne gave a small nod.
Then he lifted his other hand and gently guided the white wisp toward the wound.
The moment it touched the cut, the soul matter seemed to have a will of its own.
It spread rapidly across the injury.
It fused.
It repaired.
In less than three seconds the blood was gone, the wound was smooth and whole, and not even a scar remained.
“This…” Professor Sprout’s voice actually trembled.
“Is this healing magic?
Or… wandless casting?” “It’s not healing magic.” Snape slowly leaned back in his chair, voice low but unable to hide the emotion in it.
“It’s something else.” He took a deep breath.
“Simply being able to draw the soul out of the body and use it to heal flesh… that alone is already an astonishing feat of magic.” His gaze returned to Thorne, unable to fully conceal his shock.
That was a soul.
In the current magical world, soul magic was a field whose door had barely been cracked open.
Wizards struggled to make any progress on it.
Yet this man in front of them could pull his own soul out and use it as a tool.
This wasn’t talent anymore.
This was revolutionary.
“Albus,” Professor McGonagall pushed her glasses up, voice clearly surprised, “where on earth did you dig up someone this talented?” Dumbledore merely smiled, his tone light and pleased with himself.
“Minerva, my eyes are quite sharp.
I can pick out the booger-flavored bean from a whole pile of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.” “That’s what you call discernment.” Thorne: “…” So he was the booger-flavored one?
He decided not to dwell on the metaphor.
“Uh…” Thorne cleared his throat and brought the conversation back on track.
“I’d like to confirm—what’s the result of this interview?” Professor McGonagall ignored Dumbledore’s smugness.
She stood up, her tone formal.
“Buzz buzz buzz, Mr.
Thorne.” “I don’t believe a vote is necessary.” She gave a small nod.
“Welcome to the Hogwarts teaching staff.” “From now on, our young wizards will have one more new subject to study.” Dumbledore produced a professor’s contract from somewhere with practiced ease, as if he’d had it ready the whole time.
Thorne took it and immediately looked at the salary section.
Weekly pay: one hundred and fifty Galleons.
He glanced up at the professors around the table, the question burning on the tip of his tongue.
Was this actually fair?
He immediately crushed the thought.
Don’t be ridiculous.
This was Albus Dumbledore—the greatest white wizard of the age.
There was no way he would shortchange him on something as petty as wages.
Thorne signed his name at the bottom without further hesitation.
The moment the quill left the page, he let out a long breath.
So… he was officially employed now?
When he looked up and saw Dumbledore’s beaming face, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d somehow been conned.
Once the contract was signed, Professor McGonagall stepped forward and shook his hand.
“Proper introductions, then.” “Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Professor of Transfiguration.” She turned slightly and gestured to the large earthworm beside her.
“Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff and Professor of Herbology.” Finally, she indicated the short, kind-faced human wizard.
“Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw and Professor of Charms.” Thorne was in an excellent mood.
He shook hands with each of them in turn.
Especially with Flitwick—he got so excited he almost forgot to let go, gripping the man’s hand for far too long until the professor gave a polite cough.
“All right, Professor Thorne.” Professor McGonagall patted his arm.
“Let me show you around Hogwarts.
After all, this is where you’ll be living for quite some time.” She was already steering him toward the door when Snape, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke.
“I’ve done some research into soul magic myself.” “We can discuss it later, if you’d like.” Thorne immediately turned and gave him a bright, sincere OK sign.
“Of course!
We mammals have to help each other!” Before Snape could respond, McGonagall had already dragged him out of the room.
Inside the classroom, Sprout and Flitwick—who was still rubbing his hand—both turned to look at Snape.
“…’Mammals’?” Snape gave a cold snort, expression blank, clearly having no intention of explaining.
He straightened his robes and walked out without another word.
— “Whew… my own private office.
The benefits here really aren’t bad.” After Professor McGonagall had given him a full tour of Hogwarts, Thorne finally sat down in the room that had been assigned to him.
His whole body visibly relaxed.
He leaned back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head, and let out a long breath.
In front of him, the familiar system notification appeared.
[Current Special Environment: Hogwarts Castle (15%)] “Today’s gains were pretty solid…” Thorne murmured to himself.
“Though this castle really is massive.
Walking around once only got me to fifteen percent.” “Still, I’ve got half the summer left.
Plenty of time to explore the whole place properly.” The thought made his mood brighten.
“And… the professors here are actually really nice.” The moment the words left his mouth, his brows furrowed slightly.
A question he had overlooked earlier suddenly surfaced in his mind.
“But wait…” “Why is it that, to me, Professor Flitwick is the only one who looks like an actual human?”