Grandpa from the Mother's Day Ad?
"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?" Harry took the letter. Even though he trusted Morin, he still wanted to confirm it himself.
"Yes. A hidden platform," Morin nodded. "You can't expect wizards and Muggles to board at the same place or take the same train. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is concealed, just like the entrance to Diagon Alley. Only wizards can pass through it. I'll take you to the station, so don't worry. However, I won't be taking the train. I need to arrive at Hogwarts early to set up my office. I'll Apparate directly."
"Oh. I see," Harry said, feeling enlightened.
"One more thing," Morin added. "While you're at school, call me Professor Morin. Act as if you don't know me. It'll help you fit in. Do you understand? You need to start learning how to make your own decisions. I can't always be there to tell you what to do. What I say will never be as profound as what you experience yourself."
"I understand," Harry nodded seriously. He knew Morin meant well.
"Good. Tomorrow, you'll be a Hogwarts student, and I'll be a professor," Morin smiled. "Goodnight, Harry."
"Goodnight, Morin," Harry replied.
He watched Morin turn off the light and leave. Harry changed into his pajamas, lay down, relaxed his body, and quickly fell asleep. Even with the recovery tank, his mind still needed rest after the mental exhaustion.
The next day.
Early in the morning, Harry jumped out of bed and began packing excitedly. His wand. Hedwig-named after something he'd found in a history of magic book. Robes. Cauldron.
Everything went into the trunk.
The trunk, enchanted by Morin with an Undetectable Extension Charm, swallowed it all with ease. Honestly, Harry couldn't wait to start learning magic. Over the past month, Morin hadn't taught him a single spell.
Not one.
Morin's explanation had been predictable.
"How much magic can the little bit in your body actually release right now? Even if you learned a few spells, how strong would they be? I know many spells, Harry, but very few are suitable for you at this stage. Building a solid foundation is more important."
Would Morin admit that he didn't actually know the incantations yet?
Of course not.
The result was the same anyway. He just needed to recite something that sounded similar. And if all else failed, there was always wandless, non-verbal magic.
Who couldn't act like a master?
"So... do all wizards train their bodies like this?" Harry asked.
He was already used to Morin knowing what he was thinking. It was convenient. He didn't need to voice things that were hard to say.
And there was absolutely no way it was because his thoughts showed on his face.
Absolutely not.
It has to be Legilimency. I'll definitely learn Occlumency later.
"No," Morin said. "Quite the opposite. Wizards don't train their bodies. Or rather, they don't have a systematic method. They focus almost entirely on magic. That's not wrong, but it's incomplete. They don't consider what happens when magic runs out, or when it can't be used. In short, the reason I pushed you this month was to give you a clear advantage. And if you want to learn Occlumency, I'll teach you next school year."
Morin patted Harry's shoulder, his tone calm but meaningful.
"I'm looking forward to the day you can take down an entire grade."
"I'm not a violent person!" Harry protested immediately.
"A person holding a weapon will eventually find a reason to use it," Morin said with a smile.
Harry didn't fully understand.
"Alright. Get in the car. Let's go."
Soon, they arrived at King's Cross Station. Harry followed Morin, carrying only an owl cage and a trunk sized to his height. He suspected Morin had added other charms besides the extension charm. Otherwise, there was no way something so full could be this light.
Then again, there might be another explanation.
Harry discreetly squeezed his left bicep with his right hand. It was no longer soft. It was firm. Elastic.
On the outside, though, he still looked like a thin, average-height boy. His oversized robes concealed everything perfectly.
"This is it," Morin said, stopping between the large plastic "9" and "10" signs and pointing at the blank wall. "Just walk straight through. Don't worry about hitting it. If you're nervous, watch others first. Except for teachers, all students take this train. You'll meet plenty of future classmates."
He paused.
"Shall we meet again at Hogwarts? I believe Headmaster Dumbledore is already expecting me."
"Okay. See you later, Morin," Harry said.
"I may be putting pressure on you," Morin replied, patting his shoulder again, "but I'm looking forward to your performance."
It was a habit.
What Harry didn't know was that Morin would normally ruffle someone's hair, but Harry's was too messy. So he'd switched to shoulders instead. When Batman and Superman were kids, Morin had just gone straight for the hair.
Morin then teleported back to Number Five, Privet Drive, and picked up some Floo powder. A shimmering substance. Not particularly expensive. Two Sickles per scoop.
"I could just teleport," Morin muttered, tossing a pinch into the fireplace, "but dismantling the school's security barrier on my first day feels excessive. Besides, I haven't used this before. When in Rome... Hogwarts, Headmaster Dumbledore's office."
Honestly, the Floo Network felt terrible.
Supposedly better than a Portkey, but Morin was used to clean teleportation. The moment he stepped out of the fireplace, he immediately cast a cleaning spell on himself.
"Morin, you've arrived?" Dumbledore said, setting down his dumbbells and taking a breath. "As you can see, this is my daily exercise time. Few people visit me this early. I'm afraid I haven't had time to prepare an office for you. Historically, Hogwarts only has one Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. There are many vacant offices on the third floor. I thought you might like to choose for yourself. How was the Floo Network?"
"Not great," Morin replied honestly. He glanced at Dumbledore's physique. "Next time, I'd rather take the train. Maybe chat with the students. That said... your muscle training is quite effective. Are you using a Disguise Charm?"
"My wrinkles have been disappearing for the past two weeks," Dumbledore said, lifting the charm.
His face instantly smoothed out.
White hair. White beard. A lean, muscular body.
He looked exactly like one of those buff grandfathers from Mother's Day advertisements. Maybe even more impressive.
"I have to do this," Dumbledore admitted. "To be honest, I'm starting to worry."
"The effects of the Sorcerer's Stone and my magic are stacking," Morin said. "Remarkable, but temporary. There is only one Nicolas Flamel."
"Yes," Dumbledore sighed. "That's precisely my concern. Nicolas is an old friend. If others learn the truth, they may try to force him... or deny him rest after death."
"That's a decision for you to make," Morin shrugged. "I can't offer advice there."
"You're right," Dumbledore nodded. He cleaned himself again, put on his robes, and reapplied the Disguise Charm, returning to his usual appearance. "Let's see your office. There are plenty on the third floor."
The Headmaster's office stood in a separate tower. The Defense Against the Dark Arts office was on the third floor.
Interestingly, the third floor was almost exclusively associated with that subject.
Whether it was the curse or something else-
Dumbledore had explained the curse in detail. Morin hadn't taken it too seriously. At least so far, he hadn't sensed anything attaching itself to him. He suspected it was situational. Triggered only at the "right" moment.
Along the way, they encountered several professors. Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff, short with flowing gray hair. Filius Flitwick, Charms professor and Head of Ravenclaw, clearly brilliant.
"And what a coincidence," Dumbledore said. "Minerva. Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor. She's been wanting to meet you."
"The honor is mine," Morin said, smiling as he extended his hand. "Professor McGonagall. I look forward to working with you."
"I've heard much about you from Albus," McGonagall said, her emerald robes immaculate, her pointed hat tilted slightly. Her stern expression softened as she shook his hand. "It's a pleasure."
"I was about to show Professor Morin his office," Dumbledore said. "What are you busy with?"
"The students arrive in just over an hour," McGonagall replied. "I'm checking security. If all goes well, the Sorting Ceremony begins in an hour. Please be on time."
"Understood," they replied together.
She nodded and left.
"I don't know why," Dumbledore mused, "but since becoming younger, I feel oddly intimidated around her. Perhaps it's psychological. Ah-Professor Snape. It seems we're fortunate today. All four Heads of Houses."
Morin looked ahead.
Thin. Sallow. Hooked nose. Uneven teeth. Black robes. Greasy, shoulder-length hair.
Severus Snape.
"Headmaster," Snape nodded, then turned his gaze to Morin. "And this is?"
"Professor Morin," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. We'll have two this year."
"How... clever," Snape drawled, eyes lingering on Morin. "Though I doubt it will prevent the curse. Especially for someone so young. You are aware of it, I presume?"
"I'm not particularly concerned about Voldemort's curse," Morin replied calmly. "But thank you for your concern."
Snape stiffened at the name. He glanced at Dumbledore, understanding dawning.
"Hmph. It seems my concern was misplaced. I have a potion brewing."
He swept away, robes billowing.
Like a bat.
The nickname fit.
"Professor Snape is a very good man," Dumbledore said. "He simply... communicates differently."
"I can tell," Morin nodded. "Not bad. Just socially incompatible."
"I'm glad," Dumbledore said. "Now, we should hurry. If we're late, Minerva will truly be angry."
"I might get away with it," Morin laughed. "But you're the Headmaster. That reminds me of a joke."
"A joke?"
Morin told him one. About someone skipping class to play games-modified into a tabletop magic game.
Dumbledore laughed heartily.
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