Zhang Wen felt that his luck had probably run out while he was still in the womb.
Crossing over once wasn’t enough; he had to do it twice.
The first time, he was dropped into the world of Type-Moon and shoved inexplicably into the Fifth Holy Grail War as Saber’s Master.
Looking back on those days, the whole thing felt absurd—fighting a bunch of lunatics and Heroic Spirits for a wish-granting cup, nearly losing his life in Fuyuki City.
After he finally managed to survive, the Counter Force likely decided he was an eyesore and kicked him out of the Type-Moon world.
The good news was that Artoria was still with him.
The bad news was that he had crossed over yet again.
At this moment, Zhang Wen stood in a dingy little alley in London, staring at a crooked sign in front of him: “The Leaky Cauldron.”
“Master, the mana density here is very low.” Artoria stood behind him in civilian clothes, her golden hair tied back in a ponytail.
She looked like an ordinary European girl—provided you ignored the invisible Excalibur strapped to her waist.
“I know.” Zhang Wen took a deep breath.
“And I think I know where we are.”
He looked down at the copy of the *Daily Prophet* he had just swiped from a roadside newsstand.
The headline read: “Gilderoy Lockhart to be Appointed Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor!”
The date was August 1992.
Zhang Wen closed his eyes, quickly scanning his memories of the novels and movies from his previous life.
Harry Potter.
Second year.
The Chamber of Secrets.
The Basilisk.
Voldemort’s diary.
And that fraud Lockhart, who knew how to do nothing but smile.
“Great.” He opened his eyes, his tone flat.
“Another world with a major villain.”
Artoria frowned slightly.
“Master, you don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m extremely surprised; I’m just acting calm.” Zhang Wen folded the newspaper and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Let’s go.
We’re heading in.”
The Leaky Cauldron was filled with the smell of cheap butterbeer and tobacco.
A few wizards sat in corners talking in low voices.
Tom, the pub owner, looked up while wiping a glass, glanced at them, and then looked back down.
Zhang Wen found a seat by the window and ordered a butterbeer for himself and one for Artoria.
“Here’s the situation,” he said in a low voice.
“We’ve traveled to a world of magic.
This world has a magic school called Hogwarts, a big villain named Voldemort, and a savior named Harry Potter.”
Artoria listened intently and nodded.
“It sounds somewhat similar to the legends of Britain.”
“More or less.
They’re all stories of children saving the world.” Zhang Wen took a sip of the butterbeer and found it surprisingly decent.
“The point is, we currently have no identity, no money, and no way back.”
“What does Master intend to do?”
Zhang Wen fell silent for a few seconds.
His gaze fell on Lockhart’s beaming face on the front page of the newspaper.
A bold idea began to take shape in his mind.
Gilderoy Lockhart was in a fantastic mood today.
He had just signed a contract for a new book, and the advance was generous enough to buy three more sets of gold-trimmed robes.
More importantly, Albus Dumbledore had personally invited him to Hogwarts to serve as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Goodness, he was simply too popular.
Lockhart hummed a little tune as he stepped out of Flourish and Blotts and turned into a side alley off Diagon Alley.
He planned to take a shortcut back to his lodgings to carefully select the luggage he would take to Hogwarts—twenty-seven sets of robes were a basic requirement, and he needed at least five hundred signed photos.
Then he saw a young man with Eastern features standing in the middle of the path.
“Mr.
Lockhart?” The young man smiled.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
Lockhart reflexively flashed his signature eight-tooth smile.
“Oh, another fan?
Do you want an autograph?
I’m in a good mood today—”
“No, I want to talk to you,” the young man said.
“About the adventure stories in your books.”
“Of course!
What would you like to know?
About the time I subdued the Yeti with my bare hands, or—”
“What I want to know is,” the young man’s smile remained, but his tone shifted, “how you managed to steal other people’s experiences and write them as your own stories.”
Lockhart’s smile froze on his face.
“What…
what are you talking about?”
“Memory Charms,” the young man said, enunciating every word.
“You cast Memory Charms on the real adventurers and then claimed their stories as your own.
Isn’t that right, Mr.
Lockhart?”
The alley went silent for three seconds.
Lockhart’s hand moved quickly toward the wand in his pocket—
Then he found a sword already pressed against his neck.
He hadn’t even seen where the blonde woman had come from.
“I suggest you put your hand down.” The woman’s voice was as calm as if she were commenting on the weather.
Lockhart slowly raised both hands, his smile completely gone.
His lips were trembling.
“What…
what do you want?”
Zhang Wen pulled the wand from Lockhart’s pocket and twirled it in his hand.
“First, your professorship.
Second, your identity.
Third, all your memories.”
“What?!”
“Just kidding, I don’t want the third one.” Zhang Wen tucked Lockhart’s wand into his own waistband.
“But the first two are serious.
You’re going to tell Dumbledore that you have an emergency and can’t make it, then recommend me to take your place.”
Lockhart’s eyes widened.
“Are you mad?
How could Dumbledore ever accept a—a—”
“An expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts from the East?” Zhang Wen finished the sentence for him.
“Don’t worry about that.
You just need to write a letter of recommendation.
I’ll handle the rest.”
“Why should I help you?”
Artoria’s sword moved slightly, the blade reflecting a cold light.
“Because if you don’t help me,” Zhang Wen’s tone remained very gentle, “I’ll make your fraud public.
How much do you think the *Daily Prophet* would pay for that headline?”
Lockhart’s face went from white to green, and then back to white.
Finally, he swallowed hard, his voice weak.
“What…
what do you want me to write?”
Three days later.
Albus Dumbledore sat in the Headmaster’s office, looking at the letter in his hand, his eyebrows raised slightly.
Lockhart’s letter was written with great sincerity, stating that he had suddenly received an urgent mission overseas—apparently, a nest of Yetis had been discovered in the Himalayas that required his personal attention.
Therefore, he had to regretfully decline the teaching position, but he strongly recommended an expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts from the East—a Mr.
Zhang Wen.
A small note was added at the end of the letter: “This man’s strength is unfathomable; I consider myself inferior to him.”
Dumbledore set the letter down and took off his half-moon spectacles to wipe them.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts position had been cursed for so many years that finding someone was always a massive headache.
Lockhart had been his fallback choice to begin with—to be honest, he was well aware of Lockhart’s true level of competence.
Now Lockhart had fled, and there were less than two weeks before the start of term.
Dumbledore sighed and picked up his quill to write an invitation to this “Mr.
Zhang Wen.”
At any rate, he couldn’t be much worse than Lockhart.
When Zhang Wen received the invitation, he was having dinner with Artoria at the Leaky Cauldron.
“It worked.” He handed the letter to Artoria.
“Dumbledore wants me to come to Hogwarts for an interview next week.”
Artoria finished reading the letter and looked up.
“Master, are you sure about this?
You don’t know the magic of this world.”
This was a very practical problem.
Zhang Wen had learned some basic Magecraft theory in the Type-Moon world, but that was the Type-Moon system of Magecraft, which was a completely different beast from the magic in Harry Potter’s world.
He didn’t even know how to use a wand—even though he now had Lockhart’s.
“That’s why we still have two weeks.” Zhang Wen pulled out a copy of *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1* he had bought from Flourish and Blotts.
“Starting today, it’s a crash course.”
Artoria looked at the thickness of the book and made a subtle face.
“Master, are you serious?”
“I managed to learn basic Reinforcement Magecraft in a month in the Type-Moon world.
Learning a few charms here shouldn’t be harder than that.” Zhang Wen flipped to the first page.
“Besides, Lockhart couldn’t even teach second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts.
My standards don’t need to be that high.”
“But you must at least be able to perform some basic demonstrations.”
“That’s why I have you,” Zhang Wen said matter-of-factly.
“When things get tough, you do the fighting, and I do the talking.
A clear division of labor, perfect cooperation.”
Artoria was silent for a moment.
“Master, I am a knight, not your hired thug.”
“Isn’t a knight’s duty to protect their Master?
Protecting me from embarrassment is a form of protection.”
“…There is a flaw in that logic.”
“You only think that because you haven’t thought about it carefully enough.”
Artoria decided not to argue with him.
The next two weeks were very productive for Zhang Wen.
During the day, he immersed himself in various bookstores in Diagon Alley, buying every Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook he could find.
At night, back at the Leaky Cauldron, he practiced spells from the books.
The results were better than he expected.
The Magic Circuits from the Type-Moon world still functioned in this world.
Although the systems were different, prana was still prana.
He quickly mastered the basic Disarming Charm and Shield Charm.
While their power was far from that of a proper wizard, they were at least usable.
Artoria observed silently from the side, occasionally offering comments.
“Your posture for the Obstruction Jinx is wrong.”
“Give me a break, I never went to magic school.”
“Lean thirty degrees to the left.”
Zhang Wen did as instructed.
A red light shot from the tip of the wand, accurately hitting a chair in the corner of the room.
The chair flew back and slammed into the wall with a loud bang.
Tom’s voice drifted up from downstairs: “Guests upstairs, please be mindful of the furniture!”
“Sorry!” Zhang Wen shouted toward the door, then turned to Artoria.
“See?
I’m a fast learner.”
“The chair is broken.”
“That’s because I didn’t control my power well, not a problem with my aim.”
Artoria remained noncommittal.
Two weeks later, September 1st.
Zhang Wen stood before Hogwarts Castle, looking up at the towering spires and fluttering banners.
To say he wasn’t awestruck would be a lie.
The Clock Tower, headquarters of the Mages’ Association in the Type-Moon world, was impressive enough, but Hogwarts had a completely different feel.
The castle possessed an ancient, warm aura, like a massive living creature.
“It is larger than Camelot,” Artoria remarked.
Zhang Wen glanced at her.
“You’re comparing it to your own capital?”
“In terms of architectural scale, yes.”
Well, if the King of Britain said it was bigger than Camelot, then it was certainly big.
The castle doors opened, and a stern witch in emerald-green robes and square spectacles walked out.
Zhang Wen recognized her—Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration and Head of Gryffindor House.
“Mr.
Zhang?” Professor McGonagall looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on Artoria for an extra second.
“Headmaster Dumbledore is waiting for you.
Please follow me.”
Zhang Wen straightened his robes—they were custom-made at Madam Malkin’s, black, simple, and without any gaudy decorations.
They were a world apart from Lockhart’s gold and purple finery.
He took a deep breath and stepped into Hogwarts.
His career as a professor had officially begun.
As for whether he was actually qualified for the job—
To be honest, he wasn’t sure himself.
But at the very least, he was better than Lockhart.
It was a low bar, but it was a bar nonetheless.