A second peal of thunder split the sky.
This one was much closer.
The windowpanes trembled in their frames, emitting a faint, continuous hum.
By then, Minerva McGonagall’s wand had already slipped into her hand.
She did not cast a spell immediately.
Instead, she narrowed her eyes and stared into the churning lead-gray clouds.
The storm clouds twisted like an enormous vortex, illuminated from within by streaks of golden lightning.
Then, a colossal shadow tore through them.
The first things to emerge were a pair of enormous wings spanning nearly sixty feet.
Four slightly smaller wings followed, spreading wide behind them.
A bronze sheen gleamed along the edges of all six wings, and with every powerful beat, arcs of lightning danced between the feathers.
A subadult Thunderbird.
Minerva recognized the magnificent magical beast at a glance.
Yet what surprised her even more was the human figure standing calmly upon its back.
At that moment, a brilliant flash of fire erupted before the castle entrance.
A crimson-and-gold bird wreathed in flames appeared out of thin air.
The fire parted, and Dumbledore stepped smoothly from within.
He looked up at the approaching Thunderbird and raised one hand.
With a deep metallic groan, the heavy iron gates of Hogwarts Castle slowly swung open.
The moment the gates parted, the castle grounds seemed to reconnect with the outside world.
A damp night wind swept in, carrying the scent of rain and distant forests.
High above, the figure on the Thunderbird’s back leaned forward and whispered something into the great bird’s ear.
The Thunderbird folded its wings slightly.
Then it plunged from the clouds like a falling star.
Lightning streamed behind it as it descended, illuminating the towers and battlements of Hogwarts in stark white light.
At the final moment, its six wings spread wide, arresting its fall as it landed steadily in the courtyard.
The violent gust stirred by its wings sent fallen leaves and dust spiraling across the ground.
“You’re late, Professor Moriarty,” Dumbledore said cheerfully.
He paused, his gaze moving from Hermes to the enormous magical beast beneath him.
“Although I must admit, this is a considerably more impressive arrival than I expected.”
His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles.
“I had assumed you would report through the Floo Network.
It is, after all, one of the most common means of transportation in the British wizarding world.”
A hint of curiosity entered his expression.
“How did you find Hogwarts?”
“Heh.
I don’t think you truly want to know that, Professor.”
Before Hermes could answer, Calcifer poked his head out from beneath his collar.
The little fire demon stretched along Hermes’s shoulder, his burning eyes curved with amusement.
After all, casually using Legilimency on a passing wizard was hardly something worth boasting about.
Even if said wizard had been a complete stranger.
The commotion caused by the Thunderbird had already drawn the professors from the castle.
Since the new school year was only two days away, most of them had returned early to make preparations.
Professor McGonagall was the first to approach.
After giving the colossal Thunderbird a cautious glance, she turned to reassure the others.
“There is no cause for alarm. The source of this chapter is g.com.
This is our new professor.”
The moment those words left her mouth, Snape’s expression darkened visibly.
His black eyes shifted toward Hermes, and his already cold gaze became noticeably less friendly.
Hermes paid him no attention.
After stepping down from the Thunderbird’s back, he raised one hand.
A large and unusually complex magic circle unfolded beneath the great bird’s talons, its interlocking runes shining with a pale blue radiance.
Before the watching professors’ eyes, the Thunderbird slowly sank into the magic circle.
Its talons vanished first, followed by its body and six enormous wings.
Within seconds, the colossal creature had disappeared without leaving so much as a feather behind.
A thoughtful gleam flashed through Dumbledore’s eyes.
He had clearly never seen magic of that kind before.
However, he quickly concealed his curiosity and smiled as though nothing unusual had happened.
“I believe the courtyard is hardly the best place for a conversation.”
With a casual wave of his hand, the iron gates swung shut behind them.
“Come with me.”
Dumbledore turned and entered the castle.
“Professor McGonagall will show you to your office afterward and explain the school’s daily arrangements.”
He paused midstep and glanced over his shoulder.
“This is, after all, your first visit to Hogwarts.”
Hermes nodded and followed him into the castle at an unhurried pace, taking in the ancient magical school around him.
The stone corridors were broad and warmly lit.
Suits of armor stood along the walls, occasionally shifting in place when no one appeared to be watching.
Portraits whispered among themselves inside their frames, while staircases moved slowly in the distance.
Compared with the severe, fortress-like atmosphere of Durmstrang Institute, Hogwarts felt considerably warmer.
More comfortable.
It was less like a bastion built to withstand a siege and more like an ancient home that had accumulated centuries of stories.
Still, Hermes was not particularly surprised.
The two schools had been founded upon entirely different philosophies.
Their architecture merely reflected that difference.
At the end of a long corridor, an ugly stone gargoyle guarded the entrance to a spiral staircase.
“Lemon sherbet,” Dumbledore said.
The gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the staircase behind it.
Before stepping forward, Dumbledore turned and winked at Hermes.
“That is the password to my office.
It sounds delicious, doesn’t it?”
Faced with the old wizard’s expectant expression, Hermes maintained a polite smile and nodded.
“Quite.”
The spiral staircase carried them upward until they reached a polished wooden door.
Beyond it lay a spacious circular office.
The walls were covered with portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters.
Since night had already fallen, many of the portraits were asleep, snoring loudly inside their frames.
Several others had gathered in a single painting and were whispering among themselves.
The arrival of Dumbledore and Hermes woke the sleeping portraits one after another.
Dozens of gazes immediately converged on Hermes.
Some were sharp and scrutinizing.
Others carried thinly concealed curiosity.
Cabinets along the walls displayed a collection of strange and ancient magical objects, many of which quietly whirred, clicked, or emitted wisps of silver smoke.
A clear birdsong suddenly rang through the room.
A crimson-and-gold blur swept in through the open window.
Fawkes, the Phoenix whom Hermes had been eager to see, circled the room once before landing gracefully upon the golden perch beside the door.
The Phoenix tilted his head.
His bright eyes examined Hermes, then shifted toward the little flame curled around his shoulder.
Calcifer stared back just as intently.
For a moment, neither creature moved.
“Tea or juice?” Dumbledore asked.
He walked around a small table near the edge of the office and settled comfortably into his chair.
“Black tea will do,” Hermes replied, taking the seat opposite him without ceremony.
A faint trace of disappointment flashed through Dumbledore’s eyes.
He smacked his lips and lightly tapped his knuckles against the tabletop.
A steaming cup of black tea appeared before Hermes, accompanied by an assortment of delicate pastries.
In front of Dumbledore, however, appeared a sweet drink crowned with a generous swirl of cream.
Hermes glanced at it but said nothing.
“Since Karkaroff has personally acknowledged your talent in the Dark Arts, I see little need to subject you to any unnecessary examinations.”
As he spoke, Dumbledore picked up a wrapped sweet from the table and leisurely opened it.
“However, there is one matter I believe I must clarify.”
His expression remained mild, but his gaze became a little more serious.
“What you will be teaching the students is how to defend themselves against the Dark Arts and dangerous magical creatures.”
He paused for emphasis.
“Not how to practise the Dark Arts themselves.”
Considering the institution from which Hermes had graduated, Dumbledore felt this warning was absolutely necessary.
Otherwise, he feared that several years from now, an alarming number of former Hogwarts students might find themselves enjoying long-term accommodation in Azkaban.
The corner of Hermes’s mouth twitched.
For a moment, his carefully maintained expression nearly cracked.
“Rest assured.
Nothing of that sort will happen.”
Left with little choice, he shook his head and offered a faint smile.
“This is Hogwarts, after all, not Durmstrang.”
“Of course, if any of the students happen to be interested, I would be delighted to offer private guidance.”
Calcifer’s fiery body flickered upon Hermes’s shoulder as he made the suggestion with obvious enthusiasm.
The study of the Dark Arts was heavily restricted by the Ministry of Magic.
Calcifer was perfectly aware of that fact.
But what did human laws have to do with a demon?
“Hahaha…”
Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head, looking every bit like a kindly old man who had somehow failed to hear Calcifer’s suggestion.
“This friend of yours is certainly an interesting fellow.”
His gaze lingered on the fire demon for another moment before returning to Hermes.
“Professor McGonagall will take you to your office next.
You still have two days before the students arrive, which should give you enough time to familiarize yourself with the castle and prepare your lessons.”
With that, Dumbledore slowly rose from his chair.
He walked over to the window and gazed into the distance, where the last remnants of the storm clouds were dispersing above the Forbidden Forest.
His hands folded behind his back.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
No one could tell what thoughts were passing through the old wizard’s mind.