The next day.
In his room.
Morin was experimenting with crafting a wand.
For an ordinary novice, wandmaking meant countless failures-poor timing, incorrect force, flawed incantations. Someone without talent could waste enough material for a hundred wands without successfully producing even one.
For Morin, it was different.
With absolute knowledge of "staves," plus peak reaction speed and control, crafting a standard wand posed no difficulty at all.
He was a cheater.
His stats were completely unbalanced.
It felt like a professional gamer loading into a casual match.
Of course, what Morin was working on wasn't a standard wand.
As a "cheating" wandmaker, his ambitions were higher.
A standard wand only functions as a focus and a mild amplifier, Morin thought as he carved runes into the wood. The wood and the core correspond to a wizard's constitution and talent. So if that's the case, could I-
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"So soon?" Morin glanced at the window.
A black-and-white owl with thick eyebrows-smaller than Late Autumn-was pecking at the glass, a thick envelope clenched in its beak. It looked strangely comical.
When it saw Morin, the owl stopped, tilted its head, and gestured pointedly at the window.
Morin smiled.
He cracked the window open, snatched the letter at lightning speed, then shut it again.
The owl froze.
"!!!"
Its large eyes were filled with disbelief.
"Hahaha!" Morin laughed at its expression, then reopened the window to let it in.
"Chirp!" The owl retreated, feathers fluffed in indignation.
I don't get paid, I don't get crumbs, not even water. When will owls rise up? I won't be teased by-oh? What's that? Smells good... chirp... fine, I forgive you!
The moment Morin brought out sweet pastries, the owl's indignation vanished. It hopped inside and began eating enthusiastically.
Morin stroked its feathers, then released an excited Late Autumn from her cage before sitting down to read the letter.
The envelope was sealed with red wax.
He broke it open and unfolded the parchment.
At the top was the Hogwarts crest-a large "H" encircled by four animals representing the houses.
Below it read:
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Supreme Mugwump; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot)
Dear Mr. Morin,
We are pleased to inform you that, following a joint review by the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts officials, you have been appointed to the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
If you accept, please complete the enclosed Hogwarts Appointment Acceptance Form.
The term begins on September 1st. Your preferred year groups and required textbooks must be submitted one month in advance.
As there is already a teacher assigned to this course-Professor Quirrell-we consulted him. His response was as follows: "I am delighted to have Professor Morin's assistance. I hold great admiration for the famous Mr. Potter and would like to teach the first-years. Professor Morin may take the remaining years."
You may submit your request accordingly.
Allowances for robes, living expenses, and teaching materials will be provided upon arrival. Salary will follow Hogwarts Staff Pay Regulations.
Deputy Headmistress (f),
Minerva McGonagall
Morin filled out the forms.
He selected years two, three, four, and six.
The first-years were left to Voldemort.
He kept the textbooks unchanged.
After sealing the paperwork in a new envelope, Morin looked at the owls.
"Can you still fly?" he asked the black-and-white owl, whose belly was visibly round.
"Chirp!"
It grabbed the letter, tried to take off, and immediately dropped back down.
Too full.
It hid its face in its wings like an ostrich.
"Never mind." Morin handed the letter to Late Autumn, along with a small bag of pastries. "You go together."
"Coo~"
Late Autumn caught the envelope in her beak and clutched the bag with her talons, lifting off smoothly. Being big had its advantages.
"Chirp!" The smaller owl flapped after her, awkward but determined.
"Good. Step one is complete." Morin picked up the wand again. "Now for the next step..."
The next day.
A luxury car stopped on a quiet street.
"I can assure you, the houses here are excellent! Absolutely no issues, and the neighbors are very friendly!"
A woman in a business suit smiled brightly at Morin, leaning in far closer than necessary.
"Is that so?" Morin adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses with his left hand. His sleeve slid back, revealing an expensive watch. He glanced at the street sign.
Privet Drive.
"Of course!" The agent's gaze lingered on the watch, her enthusiasm doubling. "You see, Ms. Rachel, I'm a lawyer," Morin said with a polite smile. "I require a quiet environment to study the law."
"Then this is the perfect place!"
"Vernon, come quickly! Look!"
Inside Number 4, Privet Drive, Petunia Dursley whispered urgently.
"What is it?" Vernon Dursley lowered his newspaper.
"Someone important has arrived!"
"Important?" Vernon shuffled to the window and sucked in a breath. "Is that a-"
"Quiet!" Petunia hissed. "I heard he's a lawyer!"
"But that car..." Vernon whispered. "Even my boss said that kind of price would hurt."
"Then he must be a top-tier lawyer. Or maybe a young aristocrat." Petunia's eyes gleamed. "He's looking at the house next door. I saw the agent. Number 5 is the only one still empty!"
"So?" Vernon muttered, eyeing Morin with thinly veiled jealousy-his looks, the elegant agent beside him.
"Don't be thick. If he's important and our neighbor, we can ask for help. Free advice. Lawyers are expensive."
"...Good point." Vernon nodded, his neck wobbling. "So how do we meet him?"
"Don't rush. Let's see if he buys it first," Petunia said softly. "If he moves in, I'll host a party and invite him. Then he'll invite us back. That's how it works."
"Good. Very good."
"And if he does," Petunia added coldly, "we lock that boy up tighter. He must never know we're hiding a little monster."
"Right. Of course."
"May I see the interior?" Outside, Morin's smile never changed.
He had heard everything.
"Of course~" The agent opened the door to Number 5. "Right this way."
Morin looked around, pretended to deliberate, then purchased the house on the spot-no haggling.
After sending the agent away, he drove the car into the driveway.
Everything proceeded according to plan.
A cleaning company was called. A furniture store followed. The house was scrubbed spotless and filled with brand-new furnishings.
He looked exactly like what he was pretending to be.
A wealthy, elite lawyer.
When the work was finished, Morin leaned back on the sofa.
That morning, he had exchanged "a little" gold for British pounds, bought a car, used telepathy to obtain a lawyer's license, and secured a house near Harry Potter.
Number 5 just happened to be vacant.
He wasn't simply buying a house.
He was positioning himself.
Harry Potter was a celebrity in the Wizarding World. To advance his [Wandmaker] profession, Morin needed influence. If a famous figure wielded a special wand and achieved great feats, demand would explode.
To make Harry use his wand, he needed a relationship.
And Morin genuinely pitied the boy's situation.
Since he had the power to help, why not?
A win-win.
He had no intention of using force.
He would solve this the Muggle way.
Simple.
Effective.
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