Chapter 8 Truly Dumbledore, the headmaster!

Tewell muttered to himself as he watched Quirrell awkwardly leave the headmaster's office. He couldn't help but feel that Quirrell's behavior only made him more suspicious. It was like having the words "I have issues" engraved on the back of his head! Well, scratch that. If it had "Voldemort" engraved back there, then forget it.

"Quirinus has always been a timid child, and there are reasons for his behavior," Dumbledore sighed. "He was a bright student at Hogwarts, but I never expected him to encounter such difficulties now."

Dumbledore sighed again but didn't dwell on the topic any longer.

"Do you believe in the contents of this book?" he asked, tapping "The Four Elements of Magic," causing the magical aura clinging to it to dissipate instantly.

"I believe in Rowena Ravenclaw," Tewell replied. He didn't dare claim that the content of the book was correct, but if it was endorsed by Ravenclaw, there must be something worth exploring inside. After all, it was endorsed by Rowena Ravenclaw, hailed as the embodiment of wisdom. Otherwise, he wouldn't have spent so much effort on this book.

Dumbledore shared the same sentiment. History didn't delve much into the four founders of Hogwarts, but every bit of it was worth pondering over. So, Dumbledore didn't dwell on that aspect and moved on to his next question.

"How do you view Dark Magic?"

Ah, now we're getting to the meat of it.

"Tread cautiously," Tewell deliberately pondered for a moment, not wanting to stand out too much. "Any kind of magic, as long as it's appropriate, can be used. However, Dark Magic can corrupt the mind, so at Durmstrang, those whose minds aren't strong enough aren't allowed to use it."

"So, I've always viewed Dark Magic with caution, harboring malicious intent towards villains. Isn't that justice?"

Tewell's words were somewhat harsh, causing the elderly man in front of him to furrow his brow, but he didn't directly refute him.

"Using violence to combat violence cannot be considered justice—"

"Evil people only need to bear the responsibility of their evil deeds, while good people must adhere to all the rules and regulations. How come I didn't know you were such an idealist?"

Dumbledore's words were rudely interrupted by Tewell, but it didn't seem to bother him. In fact, the more he looked at Tewell, the more he saw himself.

A younger, more spirited Dumbledore.

Or perhaps, Grindelwald...

The old man was lost in reminiscence for a moment, but quickly shook himself out of it.

"This book will stay with me. Feel free to come to me with any questions you have about magic, and I will answer them for you one by one."

Compared to his teacher, Dumbledore had clearly accumulated much more experience over time, and was in better "health," which was exactly what Tewell lacked.

So when Tewell saw this opportunity, he eagerly nodded in agreement.

As Tewell left Hogwarts, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He had expected Hogwarts to be in great need of a Dark Arts Defense teacher, but the interview had turned out to be even more complicated and challenging than he had imagined.

But the outcome was ultimately positive—he had officially become an assistant at the long-awaited school.

Checking the time, he realized it was about time to leave. With a "whoosh," Tewell disappeared from where he stood.

When he regained his footing, the Hogwarts scene had transformed into a deserted alleyway.

Stepping out a few paces, he spotted a dingy, cramped building with a simple sign hanging above the door—The Broken Cauldron Pub.

People hurried past on the street, paying no attention to the small building. It wasn't that they looked down on it; muggles simply couldn't see this magical establishment.

As Tewell pushed open the door and entered, the pub remained calm, seemingly accustomed to people coming and going.

"Guest or passerby?" asked a shriveled man standing behind the bar counter.

As the owner of this small pub, he could claim to remember every wizard who came here, but there were few impressions of Tewell in his memory.

Such a distinctive man was hard to ignore.

In fact, Tewell had been here a few times, but over these seven years, he had transformed from a gloomy student into an elegant gentleman.

From initially fearing death to now facing the world with composure, his change was so drastic that it seemed like he had become a different person altogether.

Tewell scanned the small pub and, not finding his target, approached the bartender, Tom.

"I'd like to inquire about Professor Quirrell's whereabouts," he said with a smile, although he already knew the answer.

"I won't casually reveal the whereabouts of Hogwarts professors," Tom grinned, revealing his decayed teeth.

"What about Harry Potter? Has he left?" Tewell asked, leaving the bar counter without a fuss.

Tom "informed" him that the bar was dirtier than he had imagined.

But this question quieted the entire bar. A balding little man nearby dropped his hat to the ground but paid no attention, instead staring at Tewell with suspicion in his eyes.

"Forgive me, sir, for inquiring first—well, Mr. Potter hasn't been gone long after going into Diagon Alley. He's probably enjoying his shopping trip," Tom's smile suddenly turned ingratiating, as he respectfully bent his hunched back.

The people in the bar didn't sense anything unusual; instead, they looked at Tewell with admiration.

This wasn't the Imperius Curse; Tewell had no intention of being sent to Azkaban on his first day of work.

It was a Confundus Charm, albeit with a bit of soul power added to achieve this effect.

In their minds, he had likely transformed into a figure as great as Dumbledore, but they would forget the specifics in five minutes.

They would forget this little incident.

"Thank you," Tewell returned a courteous smile and swiftly passed through the door into Diagon Alley.

The bustling scene here was fitting for the central hub of the British wizarding world—a twisted, cobblestone street lined with various eccentric and thrilling shops.

The road wasn't wide, which wasn't an advantage, but it helped Tewell spot his target immediately.

Rubeus Hagrid and Harry Potter.

As a half-giant, Hagrid's towering figure stood out on the narrow street like a fire-breathing dragon.

Tewell had encountered many half-breeds of magical creatures; France had its share of Veela-human hybrids, for instance.

As for hybrids like Hagrid, a mix of giant and human, he had no intention of offending, but even the bravest of Durmstrang wouldn't dare to entertain thoughts of crossing a giant.

Just outside Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Hagrid suddenly rubbed his head and parted ways with Harry.

Harry entered the robe shop, while Hagrid made his way to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

The shopkeeper there was quite influential, but Tewell wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He suppressed his excitement and quietly approached Hagrid, standing beside him in silence.

Yet everyone ignored Tewell's presence, as if Muggles wouldn't notice The Broken Cauldron Pub.

Coat pockets?

None.

Shirt pocket at the chest?

Yes.

Tewell's eyes fixed on that bulging pocket, knowing if he guessed right, the coveted Philosopher's Stone lay inside!

He didn't make any sudden moves; magic required adherence to basic laws, and no one would fail to notice a hand slipping into their coat pocket, especially a half-giant like Hagrid, whose resistance to magic was much stronger than a human's.

Following Hagrid's gaze, Tewell witnessed Harry's first encounter with the magical world, reminiscent of his own first visit.

The myriad of exotic herbs, exquisitely crafted brooms, playful novelty toys, and even the mundane cauldrons all seemed so fascinating.

But joyful times always had to come to an end.

As evening approached.

Tewell watched as Hagrid, along with the somewhat crestfallen Harry, left the empty Broken Cauldron Pub, but this time, he didn't follow.

Because when Hagrid purchased the snowy owl, he confirmed that the Philosopher's Stone was fake!

A smirk crept onto Tewell's lips as he observed the bustling Muggles on the street.

If a counterfeit, after being rigorously guarded at Gringotts and surviving a failed theft attempt, nobody would doubt its authenticity.

Truly Dumbledore. The smile on his face grew more apparent, but his eyes became increasingly indifferent.Looking forward to life at Hogwarts.