Gulp, gulp, haaa~ ×2
In perfect sync, the man and the cat drained their little glasses of cola in one go and let out identical satisfied sighs.
Viktor set his glass down neatly and looked straight across at the Headmaster.
"So, Headmaster… before I sign anything, is there some kind of assessment or trial I need to pass?"
"Oh, Viktor," Dumbledore replied mildly, "with your credentials—and Silvanus's personal endorsement—I hardly think that's necessary."
"Really? Professor Kettleburn recommended me too? Last time he visited Grandpa Newt, he was still saying he could manage another couple of years."
"Yes. Silvanus had originally planned to stay on for two more years, but when he heard I intended to offer you the post, he said he could retire with complete peace of mind."
"Wait—Professor Kettleburn is actually retiring this year? So… did he ever manage to become a fully permanent professor here?"
Dumbledore paused, regarding Viktor's eager, curious expression.
"I'm afraid this year marks Silvanus's sixty-first probationary period."
"Oh. That's… really a shame." Viktor's face was the picture of regret (with just a hint of schadenfreude). "But don't worry—I'm going to be an excellent professor. No probationary nonsense for me."
Dumbledore's eye twitched slightly.
He glanced at the very familiar suitcase (exact match to Newt's), then at Tom—who was currently giving Fawkes an enthusiastic steam-bath using a smoking teapot he'd somehow acquired.
For a brief moment, the Headmaster seriously questioned whether inviting Viktor to teach Magical Creature Protection had been the wisest decision.
But then he remembered Kettleburn—who had once managed to reduce himself to a single limb—and the increasingly unreliable string of Defence Against the Dark Arts professors in recent years.
How much worse could it really get?
Was the castle going to fall down?
"…One can only hope," Dumbledore murmured.
Viktor, meanwhile, was beaming with unrestrained delight at the thought of becoming a professor. He completely missed the faint hesitation in the old man's voice.
"By the way, Viktor—inviting you here isn't only to replace Silvanus. There's one other matter I'd like your help with. It's actually one of the main reasons I chose you."
"Anything, Headmaster. Just name it."
"I'd like you, in addition to your regular curriculum, to teach the students some practical methods and spells for protecting themselves."
"With your background as a world-travelling master of Defence Against the Dark Arts, I imagine that won't be difficult for you."
"Self-protection methods? Easy, Headmaster. But… isn't that supposed to be the Defence professor's job?"
Viktor blinked, then grinned.
"So… this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is another unreliable one?"
Dumbledore gave a small, helpless sigh at the brutally direct question.
"Yes, Viktor. Though this year's appointee is every bit as famous as you are, in my view his actual skill—particularly in Defence Against the Dark Arts—doesn't quite match his reputation."
"So the task of teaching our young witches and wizards how to keep themselves safe will, I'm afraid, fall largely to you."
"Got it… wait. Hold on. You said 'from now on'?"
Viktor's eyes widened as the implication finally sank in. He stared across the desk at the elderly wizard.
Dumbledore blinked back at him with perfect innocence.
"Yes. At least until we find—and permanently eliminate—Voldemort."
Looking into those twinkling eyes that showed zero guilt whatsoever about exploiting a young man, Viktor clutched his chest in mock (and very real) anguish.
He was a world-famous author! A Defence Against the Dark Arts master! A leading magizoologist! The beloved grandson of your favourite student!
So… time to negotiate.
"In that case, Headmaster… shouldn't my salary be adjusted upward? Defence is a core subject, and Creature Protection is a very popular elective. This is going to eat up a huge chunk of my personal time…"
"And look—I've got this whole menagerie to feed."
As he spoke, Viktor reached over and plucked Mac—who was in the process of trying to cram a silver teapot almost as big as himself into his belly pouch—right out of the air.
He casually extracted the oversized, gleaming teapot, then stuffed the protesting Niffler back into the case.
Dumbledore watched the whole smooth sequence of motions and once again questioned his own judgment.
But he cleared his throat and answered.
"Of course, Viktor. Fair pay for fair work. I'll speak to Minerva."
Viktor nodded, then reached over again and yanked Tom back by the scruff before the cat could start plucking Fawkes's long tail feathers for "souvenirs."
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then spoke again.
"Viktor… do you know Harry?"
At the name, Viktor immediately perked up.
The famous Boy Who Lived? The protagonist of the whole series? Of course he knew Harry Potter.
"Absolutely, Headmaster. I was there for… well, that whole thing back then."
Seeing how quickly Viktor straightened, Dumbledore gave a small nod and continued.
"Recently Arthur wrote to say they've lost contact with Harry. I know he's perfectly safe, but I'd still appreciate it if you could drop by and check on him when you have a moment."
"No problem at all, Headmaster. I'll head over to see Harry tomorrow."
Dumbledore's request was clear: he wanted Viktor to make early contact with Harry—and to keep a quiet eye on him going forward.
From everything Viktor's old friend had ranted about back in the day, the entire Harry Potter story revolved around Harry and the destruction of Voldemort's Horcruxes.
Seeing that Dumbledore had nothing more to add, Viktor leaned forward eagerly.
"So, Headmaster… any other requests? Can we go ahead and sign the contract now?"
"Of course."
With a small flick of Dumbledore's wand, an ancient-looking sheet of parchment appeared on the desk in front of Viktor.
The edges were decorated with curling vine patterns.
At each corner sat the four animals representing Hogwarts' houses: lion, eagle, badger, serpent.
Viktor read through the offer one last time, then signed his name at the bottom.
The instant the quill left the page, the four beasts at the corners came to life—each giving a single proud call—before settling back into ink and parchment.
The single sheet duplicated itself neatly into two identical copies.
At the same moment, Viktor felt a subtle thread of connection weave itself between him and the ancient castle beneath his feet.
Hogwarts had accepted him.