Flourish and Blotts, on the north side of Diagon Alley, was a popular bookstore. Nearly every Hogwarts student passed through its doors at some point to buy textbooks.
Morin was there for a simple reason.
He needed teaching materials for his upcoming classes.
If he wanted research references, the Hogwarts library was the obvious choice. This trip was purely about selecting books suitable for students.
As for whether he would actually be appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he wasn't worried.
The position was cursed. There were never many applicants, and most of those who applied had their own agendas. If Dumbledore could find someone better than him under those circumstances...
Then Morin would have to admit Dumbledore's judgment had failed.
Clearly, that wasn't the case.
Flourish and Blotts was the official textbook supplier for a reason. The shop was spacious, the shelves neatly organized. Walking inside felt like stepping into a small library.
It was crowded. Clerks moved back and forth nonstop.
Morin spotted a book and reached out.
A giant bee was printed on the cover.
The title read-
"Fizzing Whizbees!"
The stone gargoyle slid aside after the password was spoken, revealing the moving spiral staircase beyond.
A tall, stern-looking woman wearing square spectacles climbed to the top, pushed the door open, and entered.
"Albus, why was it so urgent for Fawkes to bring me here?"
"Well, Minerva, I've found an excellent wizard willing to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."
Dumbledore set down his quill and looked up with a smile.
"Please, sit."
"I recall that Professor Quirrell has already been hired for that post this year," McGonagall said as she took a seat. "Has something happened?"
"No, no. Professor Quirrell is quite fine. However, after hearing this wizard's reasoning, I believe it is necessary to appoint a second professor."
Dumbledore explained, repeating Morin's arguments word for word.
"He makes a great deal of sense..." McGonagall said after a moment. "Who is this wizard?"
"I doubt you've met him. He's a very young wizard from China."
Dumbledore handed her several sheets of parchment.
"I had a friend retrieve his file from the Ministry's database."
"...He's a wandmaker as well?" McGonagall exclaimed while reading. "At his age?"
"Not only that," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, "he's exceptionally talented. To be honest, I have a good feeling about him. A rather strange premonition that he may be the one to break the curse."
"If you say so, Albus."
McGonagall finished reading and set the file aside.
"Who am I to object?"
"I'm glad we agree."
Dumbledore handed her a parchment and quill, along with a small plate of Fizzing Whizbees.
"Would you like one?"
"I'd like to keep my teeth."
McGonagall declined, took the quill, and glanced over the letter of appointment.
"Sending this to the Ministry already?"
"The term begins in a month. Scheduling, assigning year groups, selecting textbooks-it all takes time."
Dumbledore popped a candy into his mouth and squinted in satisfaction.
"Our new professor should be given time to prepare."
"Beyond his ability," McGonagall said as she signed, "if he truly takes the post, he'll be very popular with students based on his appearance alone. He may well be the most handsome Defense Against the Dark Arts professor we've ever had."
"Hahaha!"
Dumbledore laughed as he sealed the parchment into an envelope.
"I trust you won't tell him that."
"Certainly not."
"In any case, I look forward to his arrival."
Dumbledore beckoned.
Fawkes swooped down, caught the envelope in his talons, and vanished in a burst of fire and a clear phoenix cry.
"Hoot hoot~"
"...Hmm."
Morin stared at the owl in front of him, thoughtful.
He had already finished at Flourish and Blotts. After browsing, he decided that years one through four would continue using The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. For higher years, he would select different materials.
Having received sixteen years of education in China, looking at these "textbooks" felt... underwhelming.
Aside from the Guide to Self-Protection, which at least presented information systematically, the rest were closer to storybooks.
The content itself-such as dealing with magical creatures-was legitimate. The problem was structure. The authors clearly didn't know how to compile a textbook.
It was like publishing raw lab notes.
The substance existed. The presentation didn't.
No matter.
I'll summarize it myself.
Morin was confident.
He would give Hogwarts students an entirely new experience.
While thinking, he remained locked in a staring contest with the owl.
Owls made many kinds of sounds. Some hissed like snakes. Some laughed.
But he had never heard one like this.
"Coo, coo~"
The snowy-white owl tilted her head and made a pigeon's sound-not similar.
Identical.
Then her head snapped around.
A full one hundred and eighty degrees.
"Tsk, tsk..."
Morin clicked his tongue.
If not for the appearance and that neck movement, he would've assumed the shopkeeper sold him a pigeon.
"Sir, have you made your decision?"
The clerk noticed Morin lingering.
"This is a rare pure-white Snowy Owl. Very well-behaved. And one of the largest owls in the world."
"Fine. I'll take her."
Morin nodded.
"How much?"
"Ten Gold Galleons, sir."
He paid and left the dim Eeylops Owl Emporium with a cage in hand.
"I feel this cage might be a bit small for you."
Morin lifted it to eye level.
"Coo!"
The owl's eyes brightened. She nodded enthusiastically.
"That's easy."
Morin tapped the cage.
It expanded to twice its original size.
"Coo~"
The owl looked around, stretched her wings, and relaxed.
"Since you're my pet now, I should give you a name."
"Coo."
"How about 'Big White'?"
"Coo!"
Her eyes narrowed. Wings stiffened.
Cold. Emotionless.
"Alright, clearly not that."
Morin chuckled.
"How about... 'Little White'?"
"Hoot!"
"...I'm terrible at names."
He thought for a while.
"How about 'Late Autumn'?"
"Coo?"
"It means the end of autumn. Just before winter."
"It fits you."
"Coo~"
Her beak opened slightly. Eyes softened. She relaxed.
The evening sun washed over her feathers, giving them a warm glow.
Adorable.
"Late Autumn it is."
Morin nodded.
Using a Western human name would've been awkward. Especially if she shared it with someone he knew.
He headed for the Leaky Cauldron.
The owner was Old Tom.
Though barely mentioned in books, the fact that he could light a fireplace without a wand said enough. Wandless magic required deep understanding.
And anyone guarding the entrance to Diagon Alley wasn't ordinary.
Of course, Morin didn't care.
"A new guest!"
Old Tom greeted him cheerfully.
"What'll it be? Try the new Butterbeer. Better than Hogsmeade's, I guarantee it."
"I need a room for about a month."
Morin smiled.
"And a Butterbeer."
"Coming right up!"
Old Tom pulled a brass key from a cabinet.
"One Galleon for the stay. On the house."
"That's not right! He's too handsome-are you robbing the cradle?"
A drunk jeered.
Laughter followed.
"Pay them no mind," Old Tom said quickly as Morin glanced over. "Drunks lack sense. Take it as a compliment."
"I'm confident enough without strangers flattering me."
Morin shrugged.
"Perhaps a small lesson, then?"
"As long as nobody dies."
"I'm not a monster."
Morin raised a finger.
Thud.
Every drunk's head slammed into the table at once.
They dropped to the floor without a sound.
Silence fell over the pub.
Wandless magic.
From a young, handsome wizard.
"You all saw it," Morin said calmly. "They provoked me."
He smiled.
"I'm Morin. A wandmaker from China. Pleased to meet you. Despite the unpleasantness, I'm actually easy to get along with."
He drained the Butterbeer in one go.
"Not bad."
Morin placed ten Gold Galleons on the counter.
"For repairs. Enough?"
"Too much!" Old Tom took only one.
"The rest is for drinks."
Morin gestured.
"Which way to my room?"
"Upstairs. Room 206."
Old Tom hesitated.
"The walls are a bit thin..."
"I'll set Silencing Charms."
Morin nodded and glanced at the crowd.
"Enjoy."
He went upstairs with Late Autumn.
Once the door closed, whispers exploded.
"Wandless magic."
"So young."
"Where did he come from?"
Bang. Bang.
Old Tom slammed the counter.
"Enough! Don't think you're Merlin because you're drunk. And you-keep your thoughts to yourself. These idiots got lucky."
"Next time, who knows?"
A shaky hand rose.
"The Galleons..."
Old Tom laughed despite himself.
"Drink yourselves to death for all I care!"
The pub roared back to life.
In his room, Morin cast Silencing, Purifying, and Warding spells.
Clean.
Secure.
He released Late Autumn and fed her.
"I hope Dumbledore is quick."
Only after the position was secured could he move to the next phase.
His plan was already in motion.
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