After Quirrell's class was over.
I left Harry behind and headed for the Headmaster's office. My steps were confident, until I realized I didn't know the password to the gargoyle statue.
I stared at the gargoyle statue and thought for a moment, then decided to take the simple route.
I could have broken the statue and gone up, but wouldn't that be too barbaric a method?
I just used Apparition to go straight up to the Headmaster's office.
This was possible because the power of the Elder Wand was able to overcome the anti-Apparition charm spread throughout Hogwarts.
Fawkes looked up at me as I appeared with the characteristic swoosh of Apparition.
Scree?
As if to ask what I was doing here, Fawkes let out a cry, and I asked.
"Fawkes. Where's your master?"
After tilting its head for a moment, Fawkes looked at the window once and cried.
Does that mean he's out?
If he had known I was coming and fled, it was a truly excellent survival skill.
Just then, I heard a voice call me from the side.
"Surely, you're not Aisen Knightly?"
It was the voice of a familiar middle-aged woman.
At that voice, I slowly turned my head and, in the middle of the portraits of the former headmasters, I was able to find the owner of the voice.
A middle-aged woman, wearing a classical robe that was very different from the attire of modern wizards.
The owner of that voice was none other than Niamh Fitzgerald, the Headmistress of Hogwarts from four hundred, no, five hundred years ago.
[T/N: Niamh Fitzgerald (니암 피츠제럴드): A canonical character from the game Hogwarts Legacy. She was a former Headmistress of Hogwarts and one of the four "Keepers" who guarded the secrets of ancient magic, serving as a mentor to the game's protagonist (and therefore, Aisen).]
I turned my head and answered with an awkward smile.
"Ha, haha. It's been a long time, Madam Fitzgerald."
"Goodness. It really is you, Aisen. What on earth happened?"
Hearing her words, I looked puzzled and asked her.
"Didn't Albus tell you?"
She seemed to think for a moment, then answered.
"Hmm, as you know... no matter that he is the current Headmaster, he does not know our secrets, does he? I don't think it occurred to him that I would have a connection with you."
Ah, right. That was certainly true.
Her publicly known affiliation was only that of a former Hogwarts Headmistress, but she was, in fact, one of the 'Keepers.'
The Keepers who protect the secrets of ancient magic.
I, too, had been able to learn the secret powers of ancient magic with the help of those Keepers.
Niamh asked me.
"But Aisen. What on earth happened to that body of yours? No, the body aside. Why are you back at Hogwarts?"
I scratched my head and avoided her gaze.
The Keepers had warned me so many times to be careful when dealing with time-related ancient magic. How could I tell her that I had ended up in this state while researching that very magic?
But at Niamh's sharp glare, I ended up confessing the truth.
"Well, it's just that, I was researching time-related ancient magic..."
"Aisen Knightly!"
Before I could finish my sentence, Niamh scolded me.
"I must have told you repeatedly! Ancient magic must be handled with extreme caution! The more dangerous the magic, the deeper the preparation required to handle it correctly, as you should well know!"
Since she had a point, I just stood there quietly and listened to her words.
Just as her nagging was about to continue, a voice was heard from another portrait. It was a deep, dignified voice, but one that could not hide a certain frivolousness.
"Aha, isn't it young Knightly! So you really have come back to Hogwarts!"
The person who greeted me cheerfully was none other than Headmaster Black.
"Hmm? Headmaster Black?"
At the opportune timing of Headmaster Black's greeting, Niamh's gaze shifted to him. As the direction of her nagging turned that way, I was able to let out a sigh of relief.
Of course, since they were just portraits, I could have silenced them all if I wanted to, but since I felt a sense of debt to them.
Freed from the nagging of the portraits, I looked around the Headmaster's office for a moment.
Since this was the last class of the day, there was nothing else for me to do.
Though even if there had been a class, I would have just skipped it and come here.
After Albus had become Headmaster, the appearance of the office had changed quite a bit.
At least, the Headmaster's office I remembered was from the time of the Slytherin, Headmaster Black.
After the Gryffindor, Albus, had become Headmaster, the office had taken on a warmer interior design.
Besides that, the various magical devices standing in a corner of the office must have been brought in by Albus as well.
Just as my curiosity was piqued and I was about to open a cabinet to examine the devices, I heard a voice from behind me.
"Sir, are you curious about what's inside the cabinet?"
It was Albus's voice.
I turned around and said.
"What took you so long, Albus?"
As if he had sensed the complaint in my tone, Albus gave a bitter smile.
"I was visiting an old friend."
"A friend? Someone I might know?"
"You... might know them. I was visiting the Flamels."
I said, surprised.
"Nicolas Flamel? Mr. Nicolas is still alive?"
Well. He lived for five hundred years, he could live for another hundred. It seems the shelf life of the Philosopher's Stone was longer than I thought.
"But what business brings you to the Headmaster's office?"
At Albus's question, I finally remembered my purpose for being here and asked him.
"No, why are all the professors here in this state? You have excellent friends like Mr. Nicolas, why did you gather only people like this?"
At my words, as if he had been struck where it hurts, Albus hurriedly made an excuse.
"Sir. As you are likely already aware, Severus has completely reformed. He has been working for me ever since. So, Severus is..."
I shook my head and said.
"No, Snape is Snape, but I'm talking about Quirrell. He's several times more suspicious than Snape. What's with that guy?"
"...What do you find strange about him?"
"That bandage. There was a spell on it so complex that even my 'Eyes' couldn't see through it. No matter how I think about it, something is strange."
"You mean to say that even your 'Eyes' could not see through it?"
Albus asked, surprised.
"Albus, there's no way you wouldn't know that Quirrell is strange. Did you gather all these weirdos hoping that I would take care of them all?"
"No, that's not it... however, it is difficult to completely deny it."
Difficult to completely deny it. Hearing Albus's answer, I raised an eyebrow.
Albus, who had let out a sigh, began to tell the story of Quirrell.
"Professor Quirrell was the professor in charge of Muggle Studies until last year. He only took on Defence Against the Dark Arts from this year."
"Why the sudden decision? No matter how I look at it, it doesn't seem like a good choice."
"This is because Professor Quirrell took a sabbatical and went to Romania, and when he returned, he was a completely different person. He had a turban on his head that I'd never seen before, and though he had always been a timid person, he suddenly began to stutter. He must have gone through something in Romania. Most likely, something related to the Dark Arts."
I nodded, but asked with a sense of doubt.
"So. I understand that Professor Quirrell wasn't a strange person from the beginning, but why did that suddenly become a reason to change his position to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor? No matter how I think about it, I can't understand."
"To explain that, I must first tell you about the jinx on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position."
Albus, who had let out a sigh, brought his wand to his temple and then pulled out his own memory.
"It would be easier to explain if you saw it for yourself."
He then took the silver memory entwined around his wand, and as he approached the cabinet I had been looking at earlier, the cabinet opened to reveal a Pensieve.
"You put the Pensieve in that old cabinet?"
For the record, that Pensieve is an artifact that has been here since before Hogwarts was founded.
As he dropped the memory into the Pensieve, the silver memory melted into it.
I glanced at Albus, who was gesturing for me to look, and confirmed his memory.
And what I saw there was a scene of a man with a hideously melted-looking appearance visiting a younger Dumbledore to apply for a professorship.
Though he was younger, he was still much older than the version I remembered.
The young man named Tom Riddle had wanted to become the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, but Albus had refused. It seemed like a reasonable refusal to me, too.
No matter how you look at it, he has the face of someone who would like the Dark Arts.
The memory ended with the enraged Tom Riddle walking out of the Headmaster's office.
"Pfft. Right, I saw you mercilessly crush the hopes of a job applicant. So what are you trying to say?"
Hearing my words, Albus put a hand to his forehead and said.
"My... you have an interesting way of summarizing things."
"Well, it was obvious he had dabbled quite a bit in the Dark Arts. But why is the person who was so strict about cutting Dark Wizards from professorships now acting like this?"
"Hmm. The biggest problem in the memory I just showed you is the fact that the job applicant would later be called Lord Voldemort."
At Albus's words, I was momentarily stunned. No, really?
I asked Albus.
"So, you're saying that man was the Voldemort who made several Horcruxes?"
"That is correct. Looking at his appearance at the time, he must have already made one or two Horcruxes."
"But, he came to you like that, willing to give you his liver and gallbladder, begging you to just hire him?"
That young man who would become Voldemort had definitely said this. 'You may use myself, and my talents, as you wish. I will follow your instructions.'
It probably wasn't that he purely desired the teaching position, but no matter how I thought about it, that wasn't a line a person who dreams of becoming a Dark Lord would say.
In my day, even a mere mafia boss would kidnap and murder Hogwarts students as a daily routine. Was that really a Dark Lord?
"So. What does it matter that Voldemort didn't become the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?"
"It seems that, after that, Voldemort held a grudge for not becoming a professor. Since then, no Defence Against the Dark Arts professor has held their position for more than a year."
After thinking for a moment about the meaning of those words, I understood what Albus was saying and my mouth fell open.
"...So, to summarize what you're saying. Voldemort put a jinx on the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor position after he was rejected for the job?"
"That is correct."
"And you're using that in reverse, as a trash can to get rid of strange people you need to dispose of?"
It was a surprisingly refined way of handling things.
To use the jinx cast by Voldemort to deal with those for whom there was no just cause for removal!
It seemed this Albus fellow's ability to hatch schemes had truly improved by leaps and bounds.
Albus waved his hands and said.
"A trash can. It is not to that extent. It is merely a position where I can monitor suspicious individuals at the closest possible distance."
That's the same thing.
But as I was briefly admiring Albus's scheme, I was able to find something strange about it.
"Albus."
"Yes, Sir?"
"But, is that really an appropriate attitude for an educator to have?"
"It is an unparalleled scheme for a wizard fighting against Voldemort, but doesn't that mean that the professors who take on the Defence Against the Dark Arts class each year are only the strangest people who require your surveillance?"
"...Sir. In educating children, encountering bad examples can also be a great help..."
"If the teacher changes once a year, can they even learn Defence Against the Dark Arts during the class?"
"But, since it is a jinx cast by Voldemort himself, there is no way around it."
I looked at Albus with a bizarrely contorted face.
"Albus, isn't it common sense that a jinx has no effect if the target is a wizard more skilled than the one who cast the jinx?"
"Of course, that is so, but that would require inviting a professor more skilled than Voldemort."
"Albus. Aren't you a professor? Are you not even thinking of teaching just because you're the Headmaster?"
If you just teach for one year, the jinx will be broken, and you can appoint someone normally, can't you?
At my words, Albus fell silent.
Of course. There was no way that black-hearted fellow hadn't thought of that.
I took the wand out from my robes and said solemnly.
"Albus, it seems this won't do."
I tried to hold it in, but I can't. This is a Headmaster?