Chapter 2: Headmaster’s Direct Hire
The show ended, and the audience dispersed.
The vast theater gradually quieted down.
Melvin returned to the office, leaned back in the solid wooden chair, closed his eyes to rest his mind, and ethereal magic power flowed through his body like a babbling brook, clear and refreshing.
His mind was crystal clear, and his thoughts gradually drifted far away.
According to the Exotic Horned Serpent, emotions and beliefs connect to the soul, and the secrets of magic power are hidden deep within the soul. As early as a thousand years ago, ancient wizards began studying the soul and magic power. Some became obsessed with pursuing power and lost themselves, falling into the field of Dark Magic. Others were exceptionally gifted and achieved brilliant accomplishments. The founders of Hogwarts were the latter, but unfortunately, with the decline of ancient magic, all their achievements were lost in the river of history.
Influenced by centuries of immigration waves, Ilvermorny absorbed wizards from around the world, becoming a counterpart to Hogwarts. Generations of teachers and students always included a few exceptionally gifted individuals who left footprints in various fields of magic. Unfortunately, no one ever truly touched the essence of magic, and those achievements became valuable knowledge in the library.
The Horned Serpent, nourished by Snake Wood, had a lifespan of up to a thousand years and ultimately absorbed this knowledge, combining it with its own exotic gift to create a brand new and unknown path…
Melvin turned the ring on his ring finger, silently calculating in his heart.
Although ordinary human emotions could also increase magic power, the efficiency was still too slow. Compared to his peers, in half a year, it had only saved him several years of grueling Auror training.
To absorb magic power more efficiently, wizards were better candidates, especially powerful wizards.
Tonight’s situation confirmed the hypothesis.
“…”
There were still sporadic sounds in the corridor outside the door. The actors were removing their makeup, and the backstage staff were organizing props. When passing near his office, they all fell silent and lightened their footsteps.
This young chief stage designer was mild-mannered, but he always exuded a mysterious sense of detachment.
Moreover, the former chief designer had proven one thing with his own personal demonstration: this young mister was not to be trifled with.
That was five months ago. The former designer attempted to plagiarize his stage ideas, submitted the stolen plan in the morning, and accidents started at noon. At a corner, he was nearly sideswiped by a normally driving car; passing a tall building, he almost got hit by falling objects from a height. He stumbled all the way and nearly didn’t make it out of the street…
From that day on, as soon as he stepped onto Broadway Street, he would be plagued by misfortune.
The whole incident had become an urban legend circulating on Broadway. Influenced by this, the atmosphere in the entire drama world had become much clearer, and it might even be adapted for the stage many years later.
“Knock knock!”
“Come in.”
Melvin sat up and looked up.
The door swung open halfway in response, and the one knocking was Claire. The usually shrewd assistant miss had a somewhat dazed expression at the moment. After opening the door, she froze for two seconds, then blinked, as if suddenly remembering something.
“Sir, your guests have arrived.”
“Guests?”
Melvin frowned slightly.
Before Claire could explain, the door was fully pushed open, revealing the figures of two old men with warm smiles—one with white hair and beard, spirited and hale; the other with silver hair and silver eyes, exuding a mysterious aura.
“I don’t recall having any guests tonight, let alone such a famous one as the president of the International Confederation of Wizards, the head of the Wizengamot, a member of the Merlin Knightly Order council…
“What do you say, Mr. Dumbledore? Mr. Nicolas Flamel?”
Melvin raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly.
Somewhat unexpected, but not surprising. These famous big shots always liked to disguise themselves and blend into unassuming places, then suddenly pop up—just like in drama stories.
Both were legendary figures still existing in the Wizarding World, appearing multiple times in alchemy textbooks, not to mention various newspapers and magazines, Chocolate Frog Cards…
Of course, Melvin recognized them mainly for other reasons.
On one hand, those distant memories deep in the soul.
On the other hand, last summer’s International Confederation of Wizards conference, where he had observed the president from afar while listening in. Dumbledore had been dozing off at the high table, leaving a particularly profound impression.
“Heh…”
Nicolas Flamel gave Dumbledore a teasing glance, grinning slyly while slipping a shiny gold item into Claire’s pocket as a token of apology.
Not a Galleon issued by Gringotts—Melvin saw it clearly—it was a genuine gold coin, one side engraved with the Statue of Liberty holding a torch and olive branch, the other with the Saint-Gaudens double eagle, likely a five-year-old U.S. Mint eagle gold coin, one ounce of gold each.
Quite a substantial apology indeed.
The assistant miss, under the Confundus Charm, noticed nothing and turned to leave on her own.
“My full name is very long, but it certainly doesn’t include such a string of titles.”
Dumbledore blinked and then explained with slight apology: “Please forgive us two old fellows for our rudeness. I originally planned to schedule a meeting with the beautiful assistant miss for tomorrow, but she said you have no program for the next week… Truly sorry.”
“That gold coin is enough for Claire to forgive.”
“And you?”
“Two legendary wizards visiting late at night—I am only pleased. Please sit.”
Melvin smiled meaningfully, wagged his index finger lightly a few times, and the drawer under the desk opened by itself. The documents and miscellaneous items on the desk came alive, hopping and jumping into the drawer, leaving the desk spacious and tidy.
With another wave, the tea set flew out from the cabinet, the teapot printed with cloves paired with three teacups landing on the desk, clinking into neat formation.
Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel sat opposite, watching with great interest. The magic was not stunning, but the smoothness of the entire process and the caster’s age deserved all praise.
Just as they thought the spout would pour black tea, they saw streams of dark brown bubbly liquid fill the cups, bubbling with tiny bubbles and emitting a faint fizzing sound.
“The office has no tea prepared—this is my personal stash, Cola.” Melvin smiled mildly, gesturing for them to taste.
Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel exchanged a glance, picked up their cups, and took a shallow sip near their lips.
Hundreds of years of old teeth couldn’t withstand the assault of carbon dioxide. Nicolas Flamel frowned slightly and quietly set down his teacup.
Dumbledore’s eyes lit up—the rich sweetness, cool vapor, fizzing bubbles like candy exploding in the mouth, perfectly to his taste.
This Muggle beverage had been popular for a century; he had tasted it seventy years ago, but back then the bubble ratio wasn’t quite right—too stimulating, and the blend of sweetness and herbal flavor wasn’t harmonious enough.
Mindful of their first meeting’s image, Dumbledore sipped it in two measured goes, slowly setting down the cup, his gaze casually sweeping over the teapot.
But before he could fully release his fingers, as soon as the cup bottom touched the desk, the Cola in the cup immediately refilled.
“…”
Melvin wasn’t sure if he had seen it wrong, but Dumbledore’s smile seemed even brighter.
Nicolas Flamel also smiled and nodded: “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lavent.”
“My honor.”
“…”
Though puzzled by the sudden visit from the two legendary wizards, Melvin didn’t ask their purpose immediately. Instead, he followed the conversation flow, chatting about trivial topics.
British wizards were like that.
Wizard fable stories said it just like that: a certain British wizard mispronounced the Levitation Charm and summoned a wild ox; even as its hooves were about to stomp his face, he was still shouting that his grammar pronunciation was more faithful to pure Latin.
In the next half hour, they discussed tonight’s stage, the various theaters on Broadway, from Goethe to Dante, from《Faust》to《Macbeth》, and the evolution of stage effects over several centuries…
Mainly Melvin and Nicolas Flamel talking; Dumbledore was immersed in the sweet drink, quietly listening on the side, stroking his beard and sipping Cola sip by sip.
“…The author conveys a nihilistic power of absolute domination through the devil Mephistopheles, believing that all of Faust’s achievements will ultimately return to destruction. The clanging of shovels he hears, thinking it’s the people building, is actually the devil digging his grave.”
After saying this, Melvin picked up his Cola for a sip, subtly glancing at the old wizard opposite, feeling slightly smug.
You have experience accumulated from the past; I have wisdom from the future.
Nicolas Flamel pondered for a moment and indeed showed an expression of amazement: “I never thought of such a level of interpretation. Indeed, after art is completed, it becomes the interpreter’s work. Even Goethe himself didn’t have such profound insights when writing—believe me, I lived next door at the time.”
“…”
Melvin opened his mouth, thought of the man’s age, and couldn’t come up with any rebuttal.
He paused briefly, then turned to the one beside: “Mr. Dumbledore, may I ask what brings you here?”
Dumbledore looked at the two and chuckled lightly:
“Mr. Lavent, I would like to hire you as a professor at Hogwarts.”
——
《Ilvermorny: A Segment of School History》
In 1620, Isolt Sayre encountered an Exotic Horned Serpent on Mount Greylock. As a Gaunt Family collateral descendant, Isolt Sayre did not inherit Slytherin’s Parseltongue, yet was astonished to discover she could understand the Horned Serpent speaking and comprehend each other’s thoughts. The two happily became friends. After founding Ilvermorny Magical Academy, Isolt Sayre named one of the houses after the Horned Serpent…
On the eve of her adoptive son Chadwick Booth’s 11th birthday, Isolt Sayre promised to make him a wand but couldn’t find a suitable wand core. That night, Isolt dreamed of walking to a small river, where the Horned Serpent emerged from the water and let her shave a piece from its horn. Upon waking, Isolt went to the river and received the serpent’s gift just as in the dream, using the serpent’s horn as the wand core to craft a wand with powerful magic power.
One late autumn dusk, the Horned Serpent warned Isolt Sayre: Danger is approaching; your family is doomed. Stay vigilant—the friends on the mountain will help you.
13 days later, Isolt’s aunt, the Dark Wizard Gormlaith Gaunt, raided Ilvermorny, putting Isolt and James into a deep sleep with a powerful curse, attempting to kill them and abduct their newborn twin daughters. As she cast spells in Parseltongue, the absent adoptive son Chadwick suddenly received a warning from the Horned Serpent wand, rushed back, and with the help of Pukwudgie William, a cat leopard, and a young Thunderbird, defeated Gormlaith Gaunt.
