Chapter 82

Scotland.

Hogwarts.

The headmaster's office.

This is a circular space.

It is decorated with various antiques and magical items.

There are some strange portraits hanging on the walls.

The characters in the picture will move in the frame.

Just like any portrait in Hogwarts.

Except that they occasionally give suggestions or comments.

In the center of the room stands a huge, beautifully carved oak desk.

There are many strange gadgets and silver instruments scattered on the desk.

These instruments will emit a soft humming sound.

There is blue smoke floating above.

Dumbledore is writing something here.

"I strongly oppose it! Letting such an ominous person like Mesphilos enter the campus is absolutely a very wrong decision!"

The person in a portrait said loudly and seriously.

This person is wearing a black robe.

He has thick black eyebrows.

Almost connected into a line.

This makes his anger at this time look even more fierce.

On his frame was written "Phineas Nigellus Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1891-1926)".

"I never thought that I would agree with what Black said one day, but yes, Albus, I think you should still consider it carefully."

This is a kind lady.

With long silver curls.

The text on her portrait is more than most portraits.

"Dalis Dewent, St. Mungo's Healer (1722-1741), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1741-1768)"

Dumbledore raised his head slightly.

Most of the portraits were awake at this time.

This is a situation that only occurs when the survival of the school is involved.

"Everyone, I understand your concerns, but I don't think we can go against the prophecy. Sybil's words have been proven correct twice."

"Of course, before letting him come, I will make an unbreakable oath with him to ensure that he will not harm any teachers or students in any school."

Dumbledore paused here.

"And we really need his help in the face of the Priory of Tindalos."

The portraits above whispered again.

"I still reserve my opinion."

Principal Black closed his eyes with a sullen face.

As if he fell asleep.

"Albus, you are the headmaster, and all decisions must be made by you. Of course, I still hold objections. Asking a wizard who may be as old as the four founders... to be a professor is very dangerous."

Dalis expressed her attitude seriously.

She also closed her eyes and fell asleep.

All other headmasters basically had the same attitude.

But it still did not stop Dumbledore from finishing the letter.

...

Dear Kem,

I hope this letter can find you and you are still well. It has been 50 years since we parted under the pyramids of Egypt, but I often think of that unforgettable meeting. We discussed the Sphinx's Transfiguration and the boundary between life and death, and I still recall that time. I am deeply impressed by your wisdom and insights, and I believe that your understanding and mastery of magic are unmatched.

Recently, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has faced some difficulties, especially our Defense Against the Dark Arts course. Due to personal reasons, the current professor is about to step down, which has put us in a difficult situation. However, I thought of you, Cam. I believe you are the best person for this position. Your knowledge and experience will not only help students better understand the nature of the dark magic, but also teach them how to effectively resist it.

I sincerely invite you to join Hogwarts as a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

I know you have many important matters in the United States, but please be assured that I and other teachers in the school will fully support you and ensure that you can fully utilize your talents.

Of course, there will inevitably be some corresponding restrictions. After all, as you know, coming to Hogwarts as an American requires some special procedures.

I'm very sorry that I haven't written to you until now. We would appreciate it if you could reply as soon as possible. It's been a week and a half since the start of the term, but we still need a teacher like you to fill the vacancy.

Looking forward to your reply, Cam. Thank you again for considering this request, and I hope we can continue to keep in touch no matter what the result is.

Best wishes,

Albus Dumbledore

...

Dumbledore put the letter in his own hands.

Stands up.

Walks to a rolling fire.

The flames are blazing.

His face is blurred.

Silently, he throws the letter into the fire.

Watches the letter gradually being consumed by the flames.

Until it disappears.

Only then does he whisper softly.

"1317 Eldridge Road, Arkham, Massachusetts, USA"

The fire flashes away.

The room is dead silent again.

--

Quirrell carefully holds the students' papers.

He walked up the stairs slowly with dull steps.

Entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's private office.

Waited for Marcus to come in with the teaching aids.

The door closed gently again.

There was a click that seemed to close forever.

Quirrell breathed a sigh of relief.

He slowly put his wand back to his waist.

Pick up the one on top of all the papers.

Sit in your chair.

It seems that he can't wait to start admiring this test paper again.

Even though he had just watched it countless times.

"Oh my God, Marcus, can you imagine? A first grader could write this!"

Quirrell couldn't put it down and looked at the test paper over and over again.

His fingers rubbed back and forth on the test paper.

It's like touching a precious antique.

There was even a hint of madness in his eyes.

Marcus stood aside.

As if not heard.

Never looked back.

A flash of scarlet flashed in his eyes.

Just playing with those cold teaching aids coldly.

Quirrell didn't care.

Or rather.

He was completely immersed in that paper.

The more I look.

The more restless my heart becomes.

Quirrell felt an impulse in his heart.

He wants to be a good teacher!

"Well, now I think that the previous method of directly taking the master's lesson plan was not very good."

He began to reflect on his previous lazy ways.

After all, I have to stay here for a year.

The lesson plans given to him by his master were all from nearly forty years ago.

It is indeed a bit outdated.

How about revising the content yourself?

Think of this.

Quirrell slammed the parchment onto the table.

As if to break the stagnant air.

"Marcus, bring me my lesson plan. I found an error and I need to change it."

Quirrell reached for a quill.

Take out another blank parchment.

Try to see if there is ink.

See the complete inkblot.

Quirrell nodded.

But then he looked up with a frown.

Why is Marcus so disobedient today?

He was dragging his feet on giving him any instructions.

But when Quirrell raised his head.

At this time.

Marcus slowly turned around.

However, there was no expression on his face.

There was a sinister light in his eyes.

Quirrell seemed to realize something.

The pupils were slightly condensed.

At that moment.

He saw a green light flash before his eyes.

There seemed to be a suffocating chill in the air.

The quill fell.

There was a slight banging sound.

Like a low death knell.

Quirrell lay stiffly in his chair.

Eyes widened.

There was eternal fear and doubt in his eyes.

It was as if his soul had been ripped away from him in an instant.

Disappear in this gloomy room.

Marcus approached, expressionless.

He took out a tube of reagent that shone with a strange silver light.

Pour it coldly into Quirrell's open mouth.

The silver liquid flows slowly.

seeping down his throat.

It was as if cold death coursed through his veins.

Then he turned around and opened the door and left silently.