In Magic World as Magic Teacher

Chapter 18: Dumbledore

"I thought you'd arrive at Hogwarts earlier, Sherlock."

The old man, who appeared kind and unassuming, was none other than Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Sit here, I'll introduce you to the students later," Dumbledore said, indicating the seat to his left.

After Sherlock sat down beside him, he answered Dumbledore's question.

"I came late because I wanted to perfect my teaching plan before starting here," Sherlock replied.

When speaking to Dumbledore, Sherlock's tone softened, no longer as distant as it had been before. He spoke with a respect that could be easily perceived.

From the original owner's diary, Sherlock knew that if there was one person the original owner held in high regard, it was Dumbledore. He had admired the old wizard, who was regarded as one of the greatest in the twentieth century.

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling with approval.

"Proper preparation will help you adjust to your role faster," Dumbledore said, offering his praise.

As the first-year students continued their journey across the lake, the older students, already seated in the hall, happily chatted with their friends. The professors also whispered among themselves.

During this brief period before the Sorting Ceremony, both students and teachers were at ease, with no need for formality.

Dumbledore, still watching Sherlock with his bright blue eyes, spoke again with a smile.

"To be honest, I didn't initially think you were ready to take on the professorship, Sherlock."

Sherlock listened attentively, his posture showing respect as he continued to hear Dumbledore's words.

"When you applied for the position, I told you that what you lacked wasn't magical knowledge, but rather the heart of a true wizard," Dumbledore continued.

"I had concerns about your resolve. Even if you mastered the most powerful spells, it wouldn't be enough. I didn't feel comfortable entrusting you with the role of professor," he admitted.

"But after the incident with Gilderoy Lockhart, who was originally scheduled for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, I had to reconsider," Dumbledore said, his tone gentle.

"You always think of me as all-knowing and all-powerful, but just like anyone else, I make mistakes when choosing people for positions. Sometimes, I'm not always right," Dumbledore mused, his voice still light, as though talking to a trusted friend about a trivial mistake he had made recently.

"So, I may have been too harsh on you. After all, strength is something that can grow easily, but the strength of one's heart requires more than just effort," he said thoughtfully. "I believe I should give you a chance."

At last, Dumbledore came to the point of the conversation.

"The appointment letter Minerva sent you wasn't complete," Dumbledore revealed. "I want to add something to it."

"Hogwarts is officially hiring you as a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, but only for this year."

"This year will be a trial period. After your first year of teaching, I will reevaluate your performance. If I still feel you're not ready, I'll replace you with another candidate next year."

At these words, Sherlock could no longer hold back his thoughts, though he kept them to himself.

Does he not realize his own position? Principal Dumbledore! Sherlock thought, his mind racing. Who can hold the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for more than a year at Hogwarts? Even I'll be lucky if I make it through this year without dying again, and he's already talking about next year? Does he expect me to become a ghost after I perish?

Of course, Sherlock didn't say any of this aloud. Dumbledore, busy with his thoughts, wouldn't have paid attention to Sherlock's fleeting inner monologue.

With a serious and sincere expression, Sherlock responded, "I won't disappoint you, Professor. I'm confident I'll receive a permanent position at Hogwarts next year."

Dumbledore glanced at the freshmen being led into the hall by Professor McGonagall for the Sorting Ceremony, then spoke softly.

"I hope that, by this time next year, you'll be able to tell me yourself that you haven't let anyone down."

The conversation came to a close, and the Sorting Ceremony was about to begin. Everyone fell silent in anticipation, as the old, tattered Sorting Hat began its song.

Sherlock felt that his first encounter with Dumbledore had been dealt with well. Although the headmaster seemed genuinely kind, Sherlock couldn't shake the sense that Dumbledore, much like the movie portrayals, had a more calculating side.

I doubt he's reading my thoughts or anything, Sherlock mused. If he is, then he's far better at hiding it than I imagined.

As the Sorting Ceremony began, a man with oily, kelp-like hair and a dark robe, who looked like a giant bat, stood up from the professor's table and left the hall.

As he passed by Sherlock, the latter couldn't help but glance at him.

The man's eyes were dark and lifeless, like stagnant water—empty, cold, and desolate. The entire aura around him seemed ominous, even more so than the Thestrals, creatures that could only be seen by those who had witnessed death.

Sherlock recognized the man's presence immediately. This was none other than Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts.

Is he a good guy or a bad guy? Sherlock thought, trying to recall what he knew about Snape. But after thinking for a while, Sherlock couldn't quite place Snape's final role in the story. I'll just avoid him as much as possible, I suppose.

With the Sorting Ceremony finished, the opening feast began. Just as the meal was being served, Snape hurried back into the hall, lowering his head and whispering something to Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Sherlock, sitting nearby, caught a few snippets of their conversation, with the names "Potter" and "Weasley" clearly audible.

Professor McGonagall, her face turning pale with anger, stood up from her seat and hurried into a side room adjacent to the hall.

Dumbledore, who had been suppressing a smile, put on a more serious expression after McGonagall left. Three minutes later, he stood up and walked into the room with the same serious demeanor.

Sherlock could guess that Snape had likely caught sight of Harry and Ron in the flying car on their way to Hogwarts.

But none of this was Sherlock's concern. As the meal began, he found himself engaged in light conversation with Professor Flitwick, who was in charge of teaching Charms.