In response to Hermes’s question, Dumbledore calmly withdrew a sheet of parchment from his sleeve and placed it on the stone table between them.
“An appointment letter?”
At that moment, the flames in the fireplace suddenly surged, and a curious face emerged from within them.
Calcifer sprawled across the edge of the fireplace and stretched as far as he could toward the table.
Staring at Dumbledore, he chuckled and began, “So you’re that old bas—cough!
Cough, cough!”
Before Calcifer could finish, a crystal-clear droplet of water appeared inside his mouth.
The instant it touched his flames, a cloud of white steam billowed from between his lips.
Across the room, Hermes calmly withdrew his raised finger without the slightest change in expression.
His gaze remained fixed on the appointment letter Dumbledore had pushed toward him.
Calcifer’s unusual appearance immediately caught Dumbledore’s attention.
The old wizard studied him for several moments before turning to Hermes.
“Is he your pet?” Dumbledore asked.
“He is quite charming.
I don’t believe the wizarding world has ever documented a magical creature of his kind—at least, not one capable of speech while possessing a body made entirely of fire.”
“I am not some magical creature!”
Before Hermes could respond, Calcifer cried out indignantly.
“I am a genuine demon!”
As he spoke, Calcifer furiously burned through the coal beneath him, causing his fiery body to swell higher and higher.
The entire main room began to tremble faintly in response.
Gears shifted within the walls, and subtle metallic groans echoed through the floor.
Despite Calcifer’s bristling display, Dumbledore remained completely relaxed.
A powerful wave of energy was undoubtedly emanating from the fire demon—power that most adult wizards, and even many Aurors, might struggle to match.
Yet Dumbledore merely smiled.
He slowly rose from the sofa, straightened his robes, and walked over to the fireplace.
“So, little fellow,” he said pleasantly, “what is your name?”
“Calcifer,” the fire demon answered proudly.
“This lord’s name is Calcifer.”
“A splendid name.”
Dumbledore reached into his pocket, apparently intending to offer Calcifer a sweet.
However, the moment the candy appeared, Calcifer gave him a look of undisguised contempt.
Dumbledore coughed awkwardly, returned the sweet to his pocket, and walked back to the sofa.
“He prefers Galleons,” Hermes remarked lightly.
“What an interesting hobby,” Dumbledore murmured.
“Now, perhaps we should discuss the teaching position.”
Dumbledore straightened slightly, and his expression became more formal.
“Mr.
Moriarty, I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, sincerely invite you to join Hogwarts as its new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
He paused before reluctantly adding, “As for your salary…
how does one hundred and twenty Galleons a month sound?”
A trace of genuine pain flashed across Dumbledore’s face as he named the amount.
This was already the greatest sincerity he could offer.
Such a salary placed Hermes among the highest-paid members of the Hogwarts faculty.
As Dumbledore’s words faded, the atmosphere in the castle’s main room seemed to grow still.
“Professor Dumbledore.”
Hermes pushed the appointment letter back across the table.
“I don’t recall ever offending you.”
As he spoke, Hermes swiftly reviewed his entire life, searching for any occasion on which he might have crossed paths with Dumbledore.
Only after confirming that no such encounter had ever occurred did he release a faint sigh of relief.
“Of course you haven’t,” Dumbledore replied.
However, he guiltily averted his gaze and placed both hands on his lap, suddenly appearing very interested in adjusting his sleeves.
Naturally, he understood what Hermes meant.
Dumbledore had heard all the rumors surrounding the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
He would have liked to dismiss them as unfounded superstition, but the position’s history was difficult to ignore.
Over the years, some of its former occupants had ended up in Azkaban, while others had suffered nervous breakdowns or met similarly unfortunate fates.
“But as far as I know,” Hermes said, narrowing his eyes, “Hogwarts already has a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year.”
“You mean Professor Quirrell?”
Dumbledore blinked before giving a helpless shrug.
“He is indeed a capable professor.”
He sighed softly.
“Unfortunately, that was more apparent when he was still teaching Muggle Studies.”
After a brief pause, Dumbledore continued, “His current condition leaves me deeply concerned about the students’ academic progress.”
Ever since Quirrell had transferred to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Dumbledore had noticed troubling changes in him.
As a result, he urgently needed to find another professor capable of handling the subject.
It was precisely then that Hermes arrived in London and entered Dumbledore’s sight.
Hermes Moriarty had been hailed as Durmstrang’s most talented wizard in nearly a century.
He had graduated at the top of his class and had even rejected an offer from the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, claiming that he wished to devote his time to magical research.
Yet no one had questioned him.
Over the past several years, Hermes had developed one new spell or branch of Dark Arts after another.
His achievements alone were enough to silence any doubts regarding his intentions.
After reviewing Hermes’s record, Dumbledore had needed only a moment to decide that he was the perfect candidate.
“You intend to appoint two Defense Against the Dark Arts professors?”
Hermes tapped his fingertips lightly against the table, producing a steady series of echoes.
“That is correct.”
Dumbledore nodded.
“I have already discussed the arrangement with Professor Quirrell.
He will teach the first through fourth years, while the new professor will take responsibility for the fifth through seventh years.”
Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes sparkled as he looked at Hermes, clearly hoping the arrangement would persuade him.
Unfortunately, Hermes had no intention of granting him that satisfaction.
“Not interested.”
Hermes still had countless spells and magical theories awaiting further study.
The dense arrays of magical formations covering the walls of his second-floor study were already enough to give him a headache.
He would have to be insane to willingly spend his time dealing with a castle full of troublesome adolescents.
Dumbledore sighed.
With regret written across his face, he slowly rose from the sofa and walked toward the door.
“That truly is unfortunate.”
He took several steps before speaking again in an almost casual tone.
“However, I recently heard that the Ministry of Magic apprehended a group of dragon-egg smugglers.”
Hermes’s expression remained unchanged.
“It is regrettable,” Dumbledore continued, “that by the time the Aurors raided their stronghold, an egg stolen from a magical-creature research station had already been purchased by a mysterious and exceptionally powerful Dark wizard.”
Dumbledore’s footsteps came to a halt.
He turned his head and gave Hermes a meaningful look, his voice filled with grave concern.
“According to the captured smugglers, the Dark wizard’s entire body was shrouded in flames said to resemble the fires of hell.”
He shook his head solemnly.
“Truly chilling news.”
Dumbledore placed his hand on the door handle and released a regretful sigh.
“I imagine you would prefer not to encounter such a terrifying Dark wizard either, Mr.
Moriarty.”
He began to open the door.
“Wait!”
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