The past month had been the most comfortable Lynn had experienced since transmigrating into this world.
For someone whose soul came from the 21st century, even late 20th-century London—imperfect as it was—felt infinitely better than the oppressive isolation of the Albanian Forest.
During his early years there, he had often tried to leave. Yet every time he approached the forest's boundary, some unseen force would subtly influence him, guiding his steps back inside. At the time, he found it strange. Now, in hindsight, it was almost certainly the result of protective enchantments left behind by Voldemort.
Eventually, Lynn stopped trying to escape. The forest had one undeniable advantage: an endless supply of creatures to fight. With "mobs" readily available, he could grind experience continuously. Over time, his focus shifted entirely to magical research and leveling up.
He had always possessed a temperament suited for solitude. Before transmigrating, he had enjoyed games like Dungeons & Dragons—time-intensive and often played alone. Isolation didn't bother him; in fact, it sharpened his concentration.
Even so, the past month in London had not been wasted.
First, the old manor he purchased near Highgate Cemetery had been completely renovated. The ghosts and vampires that once inhabited it were swiftly eliminated. More importantly, the site's ley line nexus—overflowing with negative energy—had been converted into a stable power source for his workshop through a transformation array.
Second, he revisited Diagon Alley and bought every magical book available on the market. He spent days categorizing, comparing, and analyzing them. At the same time, he carefully examined the differences between this world's "spells" and his own "arcane arts" system.
Initially, he believed his arcane arts would overwhelmingly surpass local magic—a kind of dimensional reduction advantage. However, that assumption proved incorrect.
His arcane arts leaned heavily toward materialism. Most spells relied on precise conversions of energy and matter, governed by mathematical and geometric principles. In contrast, this world's magic was far more "idealistic." Many spells functioned based on rules, concepts, or abstract conditions rather than physical laws.
The difference became most apparent when examining lethal magic.
Within his arcane system, there was no truly absolute killing spell. Even high-level spells like the ninth-circle "Command: Death" required the target's life force to be sufficiently weakened beforehand. Similarly, destructive spells such as "Disintegration" or "Finger of Death" could be resisted, countered, or mitigated.
But here, the Killing Curse defied all logic.
Avada Kedavra operated outside conventional mechanics. It had no counter-spell, ignored defenses, and resulted in instant death upon contact. It did not reduce health—it bypassed it entirely.
In other words, even if Lynn layered twenty defensive spells upon himself, a single hit from the Killing Curse would still kill him instantly.
This kind of magic—seemingly capable of manipulating causality itself—was not rare in this world.
That realization shattered his earlier complacency. His Level 11 strength was no longer reassuring. Instead, it fueled a growing urgency to become stronger.
Today marked his official arrival at Hogwarts.
There was still a week before the term began. Professors typically arrived early to prepare their lessons and settle into their quarters. Unlike most institutions, Hogwarts required its faculty to live on campus.
Before leaving, Lynn opened his status panel one last time.
Name: Lynn Grey
Race: Human
Class: Mage · School of Abjuration
Level: 11 (1%)
Attributes:
Strength: 8
Dexterity: 13
Constitution: 17
Intelligence: 20
Perception: 10
Charisma: 12
Feats:
Battle Caster
Resilience
Arcane Aegis
Project Aegis
Master of Abjuration
Manawind Unbinding
Spell Slots:
1st–4th Circle (Unlimited)
5th Circle (2/2)
6th Circle (1/1)
After reviewing his status, Lynn nodded in satisfaction.
The original body's owner had been a mage—likely an unfortunate wizard who wandered into the Albanian Forest and met an untimely end. As for "Manawind Unbinding," it did not exist in D&D. It was probably a mutation caused by his transmigration into this world.
Aside from an ebony wand—which he found largely unnecessary—he carried no luggage. He had already inscribed a teleportation array at his manor. Once he established another at Hogwarts, he would be able to travel freely between the two locations.
Stepping into the fireplace, he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and scattered it at his feet.
"Hogwarts."
Green flames surged upward, engulfing him. In the next instant, he vanished.
Professor McGonagall was deeply puzzled.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor chosen by Dumbledore this year was… unusual.
The original candidate had been Gilderoy Lockhart. While she had little patience for his self-promoting books, he was at least a known figure—a celebrity and a Ravenclaw alumnus.
But this replacement—Lynn Grey—was a complete unknown.
No educational background. No recorded achievements. No verifiable history.
The only information available described him as someone with over ten years of wilderness exploration experience, specializing in a unique form of ancient magic.
Still, Dumbledore's decisions were rarely conventional. McGonagall chose not to question it further and made all necessary preparations.
Just then, green flames erupted in her fireplace.
A young man stepped out.
He wore a well-tailored black robe. His short black hair was neat, his skin pale, and his features refined. Thin silver-rimmed glasses rested on his face, though the lenses appeared to have no prescription. Behind them, his dark brown eyes carried a calm composure far beyond his apparent age.
He looked less like a professor and more like a senior student.
"Pre-stidigitation."
He raised his wand slightly and spoke a short incantation. Without even a flick, the soot and Floo residue vanished from his robe, restoring it to pristine condition.
Then he turned to her, offering a polite bow.
"Good afternoon. You must be Professor McGonagall."
"Professor Grey?" she replied, clearly surprised. "I must admit, I didn't expect you to be so young."
"Youth has its advantages," Lynn said calmly.
"Perhaps." She studied him carefully. "Albus mentioned you lived in the Albanian wilderness for ten years and gained extensive experience dealing with Dark creatures. Judging by your age… you must have started quite early."
"I've always believed that practice is the best teacher."
"Theory is equally important," she replied, her tone firm.
She did not press further.
"I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore is currently attending a Board of Governors meeting, so I will be overseeing your arrival."
Her expression grew serious.
"Hogwarts professors bear the responsibility of ensuring students receive a proper magical education in a safe environment. Defense Against the Dark Arts is particularly critical."
"Understood."
She nodded and turned, opening the door with a wave of her wand.
"Follow me. I'll show you your office—and your timetable."
Hogwarts Castle felt different from what Lynn remembered from the films.
Without students, the ancient structure seemed older… quieter… almost eerie.
They passed through shifting staircases and long corridors before arriving on the second floor. Lynn silently questioned the purpose of the moving stairs but wisely kept the thought to himself.
McGonagall led him into a spacious office.
"This will be yours. It has been thoroughly inspected—no traces of Dark Magic remain."
Lynn stepped inside, pleasantly surprised.
The room was large and well-lit. A wide bay window overlooked the castle grounds, stretching past the Forbidden Forest to the distant Quidditch pitch.
"The door behind leads to your private quarters," McGonagall explained. "You are free to modify the space as you wish. However, any expenses will not be covered by the school."
As Lynn considered where to inscribe his teleportation array, she produced a thick roll of parchment.
"This is your timetable."
At first, it appeared blank. But as he took it, black ink rapidly filled the page.
Monday: morning classes for first-year Gryffindor and Slytherin; afternoon classes for third-year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
Tuesday: fully booked.
Wednesday…
The schedule continued—dense and relentless.
Lynn's expression stiffened.
"Professor McGonagall… this is my schedule alone?"
"Of course," she said matter-of-factly. "Hogwarts employs only one Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
Lynn inhaled slowly. His Intelligence stat processed the numbers instantly.
"All seven years… four houses… roughly forty class hours per week?"
"Is there a problem?" she asked.
"All professors manage similar workloads. Professor Flitwick teaches Charms to all years, and Professor Sprout handles all Herbology classes. It is demanding—but it is tradition."
Lynn stared at the parchment.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt something close to dread.
He had been tricked.
And not by just anyone.
By Dumbledore himself.
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