Norway.
The scents of steam and fresh grass mingled strangely across the plains, where a colossal castle crouched upon the vast, uninhabited grassland.
It resembled a sleeping iron beast.
Its enormous mechanical legs were folded beneath its body, while the gears built into its joints turned slowly, producing faint metallic grinding sounds.
Lush grass covered the plain in vibrant shades of green, and wildflowers bloomed across the gentle slopes, stretching eagerly toward the sunlight.
A cool breeze swept over the wilderness, carrying the faint chill of distant mountain forests and drifting mist as it stirred ripples across the soft green sea.
At the edge of the Moving Castle’s shadow stood an elegant round table that looked completely out of place amid the untouched wilderness.
A minor commotion was currently unfolding atop its polished white-oak surface.
A three-tiered silver pastry stand occupied the center of the table.
On its uppermost tray, a pair of bright, lively eyes blinked curiously as they watched the various pieces of tableware chasing one another below.
Nearby, Calcifer was sleeping atop the central candle of a three-branched candlestick, his fiery body swaying gently while his eyes remained closed.
“Sir’s tea is ready!
How much longer are you going to dawdle, you fool?”
A white porcelain teapot stood proudly upon the tablecloth, its delicate facial features painted across its rounded body.
Its tiny feet paced impatiently as it waited for the teacup that had just hopped down from the pastry stand to approach.
Once the cup arrived, the teapot leaned its plump body forward and poured a precise stream of steaming amber tea into it.
“Oh, be careful!” the teacup squeaked.
“Don’t ruin the pattern Master just painted on me!”
As the tea rose toward its rim, the teacup carefully shuffled away on its stubby legs, climbed onto the saucer near the edge of the table, and settled itself down before speaking in a flattering tone.
“Sir, your tea is ready.”
Hermes, who had been reading a newspaper, glanced sideways at the cup upon hearing its voice.
The moment the tableware sensed his gaze, the commotion on the table came to an immediate halt.
Hermes set down The Daily Prophet, leisurely picked up the steaming teacup, and took a small sip.
“Good tea.”
“Thank you for your praise, Sir.”
The porcelain teapot clasped its tiny hands over its chest, and a suspicious blush spread across its painted face.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
Just as the teapot was about to say something else, a series of knocks came from the roof of the Moving Castle behind them.
Hermes raised his head and saw a scarecrow dressed in a tailcoat hopping repeatedly atop the castle.
Its wooden frame struck the rust-red roof with every landing, producing dull thuds.
With a pipe held between its wooden lips, the scarecrow tilted its head toward the sky and gestured urgently, apparently trying to draw Hermes’s attention to something above the castle.
Following its movements, Hermes looked up and saw a small silhouette circling high overhead.
“An owl?” Calcifer asked in confusion as he opened his eyes.
“Isn’t our delivery address set to Privet Drive?”
He stared up at the circling bird.
“Why would an owl come all the way out here?”
Still muttering, Calcifer extended a hand made of flame and snapped his fingers.
A small opening appeared in the magical barrier surrounding the castle.
Although he was puzzled by the owl’s arrival, he understood that there was only one possible destination in this uninhabited wilderness: the concealed Moving Castle.
The owl, which had been circling helplessly in the sky, finally detected its target.
It folded its wings and swooped toward Hermes, landing heavily on the wooden table.
Instead of immediately presenting the letter tied to its leg, the owl collapsed across the tabletop in exhaustion.
It looked half-dead, as though it might expire at any moment and report to Merlin ahead of schedule.
Seeing its miserable condition, Hermes reached over and untied the envelope from its leg.
“What is it?
Who sent it?”
Calcifer bounced excitedly atop the candlestick, unable to contain his curiosity.
“Hogwarts.”
After briefly examining the wax seal on the envelope, Hermes raised an eyebrow.
Several addresses had been written across its front:
The Scandinavian Mountains, Norway / Number Five, Privet Drive, London, Britain / Location Unknown…
To Mr.
Hermes Moriarty.
Looking at the increasingly desperate sequence of addresses, Hermes chuckled softly.
“I imagine this poor thing has spent the past two days flying frantically between Norway and London.”
Wizarding messenger owls possessed the uncanny ability to locate recipients by name.
No matter where a wizard concealed himself, an owl could eventually deliver its letter even without a precise address.
Hermes, however, had recently been traveling between Norway and London simply by turning the dial above the castle door’s handle.
Even a magical owl would struggle to track someone whose location changed so drastically and unpredictably.
Prompted by Calcifer’s impatient urging, Hermes calmly opened the envelope and unfolded the letter inside.
Dear Mr.
Hermes Moriarty,
Assuming the sights of London have not left you entirely enchanted, I am writing on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to cordially invite you to join our faculty as Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Hogwarts will provide generous compensation, all necessary teaching materials…
Hermes was not particularly surprised that Hogwarts knew he had arrived in Britain.
After all, as a perfectly law-abiding wizard, he had registered his arrival with the local Ministry of Magic as soon as he entered London.
He merely skimmed the remainder of the letter before handing it to Calcifer, who had been fidgeting impatiently beside him.
Nevertheless, an indescribably strange expression appeared on Hermes’s face.
They wanted him to teach at Hogwarts?
More specifically, they wanted him to become Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, the notoriously disposable position whose occupant seemed to change every year?
“Are you going to accept?” Calcifer asked curiously after reading the letter.
Hermes rolled his eyes at him.
The parchment immediately caught fire in Calcifer’s hands, crumbling into ashes that were carried away by the gentle breeze.
Hermes did not bother answering aloud; his actions had already made his decision perfectly clear.
He would have to be insane to accept a position as a professor at Hogwarts.
If he had not been certain that he had never interacted with Dumbledore before, Hermes might have suspected that the old man was deliberately trying to lure him into a trap by having McGonagall send the invitation.
Hermes picked up The Daily Prophet again and turned his attention to an article reporting the recent arrest of several dragon traffickers.
A moment later, as though something had suddenly occurred to him, he lowered the newspaper, rose from his chair, and smoothed the faint creases from his clothes before walking toward the Moving Castle.
Calcifer immediately jumped down from the candlestick and hurried after him.
“Are you going to check on that egg?”
Hermes nodded.
“If my calculations are correct, it should be hatching around now.”
A trace of anticipation entered his voice.
That egg was one of the primary reasons he had traveled to London immediately after graduating.
“Magical creatures with such immense concentrations of magic are far too difficult to find in this world,” Calcifer lamented as he leaped onto Hermes’s shoulder.