Over the next few days, Alaric Thorn balanced his time between awaiting word from Hogwarts and crafting Professor Kettleburn's specialized prosthetics.
Oh, and there was Harry, of course. Given how busy things had become, Alaric had granted the boy a few days of "holiday." Even the most diligent student needs a break, after all. Besides, once they were both at Hogwarts, the Tree of Wisdom would have ample opportunity to bask in Harry's presence; there was no need to rush the process now.
Alaric was just arriving at his shop, carrying a finished ebony arm and a set of matching legs, when a sharp tapping at the window caught his attention. A tawny owl stood regally on the sill, a thick parchment envelope tied to its leg. Alaric stepped over and retrieved the mail; the owl gave a sharp hoot, spread its wings, and vanished into the gray London sky.
Breaking the wax seal, the familiar Hogwarts crest met his eyes, accompanied by the looping, eccentric script of Albus Dumbledore. Alaric smiled; he had been expecting this.
Dear Mr. Thorn,
First, allow me to express my sincere admiration for your exceptional talents in the field of Magizoology. Professor Kettleburn has spoken of your abilities with the highest praise and has formally recommended you as his successor.
Given your extensive knowledge and unique insights, I would like to formally invite you to interview for the position of Professor of Care of Magical Creatures.
Prior to your official appointment, we request that you arrive at Hogwarts by 10:00 AM on July 15th to complete a series of small practical assessments to demonstrate your proficiency.
May wisdom and courage guide you. I look forward to our meeting at the castle.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster
Alaric folded the letter neatly and tucked it into a small drawer.
"Small practical assessments?" he murmured.
This was undoubtedly Dumbledore's doing. Hogwarts didn't hire professors on a whim; even with a glowing recommendation from a veteran like Kettleburn, the Headmaster would want to see the candidate's mettle firsthand.
"If he wants to see what I can do..." Alaric stood and rolled his shoulders. He glanced toward the door leading to his plantation, the smirk on his face deepening. "Then I suppose I should give him a proper surprise."
The day of the appointment arrived quickly. As Alaric approached the towering gates of Hogwarts, he spotted the unmistakable silhouette of Silvanus Kettleburn waiting for him. The old professor looked as energetic as ever.
"I didn't expect a personal welcome party, Professor," Alaric greeted him, stepping forward with a steady, confident stride. He carried a single leather briefcase and wore a set of brand-new charcoal-black robes—a custom order from Twilfitt and Tattings.
"I was just up at the castle clearing out the last of the junk from my office," Kettleburn grunted. "Then the Headmaster decided to dump the welcoming duties on me."
"I half-expected Professor McGonagall," Alaric noted casually, his eyes sweeping over the soaring stone turrets. The sight brought back a rush of both familiarity and strangeness.
Kettleburn waved his prosthetic arm, which emitted a series of rhythmic creaks and groans.
"She's run off her feet, lad! Dumbledore's got her buried in paperwork. It's the height of the admissions season—sending out the acceptance letters to the new batch is a job that tolerates no errors."
"Understandable."
They chatted as they made their way through the grounds and up to the Headmaster's office. In truth, Alaric had been a bit of a "wallflower" during his school years—a Hufflepuff who performed well academically but stayed well away from the spotlight. He suspected Dumbledore's memory of him would be faint at best.
"Ah, you've arrived at last, Mr. Thorn."
A voice, soft yet vibrantly alive, drifted down from the top of the spiral staircase. Dumbledore was stepping out of his office just as they arrived. Seeing the old Headmaster exactly as he remembered him, Alaric felt a brief, uncharacteristic pang of sentimentality.
"Good morning, Headmaster," Alaric said, standing tall and meeting the older man's gaze with polite confidence.
Dumbledore nodded slightly, his eyes lingering for a moment on the briefcase in Alaric's hand. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his bright blue eyes twinkled with curiosity.
"I have heard," he began in a conversational tone, "that you have prepared a rather special gift for our dear Professor Kettleburn?"
Alaric hadn't expected Dumbledore to lead with that. "I have," Alaric replied, wondering where this was going.
"Interestingly, I had intended to commission a new set of prosthetics for him as a retirement gift myself." Dumbledore stroked his silver beard, glancing at Kettleburn. "But he declined, claiming his former student would be providing him with the very best the world has to offer."
Kettleburn gave an awkward, sheepish cough at the mention.
So that's why, Alaric thought. His gift had accidentally trumped the Headmaster's. "I've put a great deal of effort into the Professor's new limbs. I believe he will find them more than satisfactory."
Dumbledore looked genuinely amused. "Then perhaps I should thank you for saving me the trouble of a commission."
His expression shifted then, and he made a graceful "after you" gesture. "Talk is always delightful, but we have a small trial to attend to. Mr. Thorn, I wish to see for myself what has earned you such high regard from Silvanus."
"The honor is mine."
Alaric followed Dumbledore and Kettleburn down to a clearing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, just a short walk from Hagrid's hut.
"Hagrid!" Kettleburn bellowed.
Almost instantly, heavy footsteps thundered from behind the small house. Hagrid's massive frame appeared, a look of pure, boyish excitement on his bearded face.
"Headmaster! Professor! And... Mr. Thorn!" Hagrid beamed. "I've been lookin' forward to this all mornin'!"
Seeing Hagrid's enthusiasm, Alaric grew wary. What kind of test was this? Surely they wouldn't expect him to duel a dragon on his first day?
No, Alaric dismissed the thought. Dragons are too difficult to transport. Even if Dumbledore agreed, the Ministry would never allow a live dragon on school grounds.
Dumbledore nodded to Hagrid, signaling him to bring out the subject.
"Right then!" Hagrid rubbed his dinner-plate-sized hands together and hurried behind his hut. Moments later, accompanied by a heavy, metallic dragging sound, he pushed a massive iron cage into the center of the clearing.
When Hagrid yanked the heavy tarp off the cage, Alaric's pupils drifted shut for a split second.
They actually had brought a dragon.
The creature inside was curled in a corner, seemingly asleep. Its black scales shimmered with a cold, metallic sheen in the sunlight.
"A Norwegian Ridgeback?" Alaric identified the species instantly, noting the jet-black ridges running down its spine. He forced himself to stay calm.
"You have ten minutes to subdue the creature," Dumbledore said with a serene smile. He gave a light flick of his wand, and the massive iron bars of the cage vanished instantly. "And for the duration of this test, the Anti-Apparition wards on this clearing have been lifted."
The dragon was now completely free. Hagrid and Kettleburn scrambled back to a safe distance, leaving Alaric alone in the center of the clearing. Dumbledore remained where he was, watching with keen interest.