Although the conversation with Dumbledore wasn't exactly pleasant, today was still a day worth celebrating. After all, Vison had successfully secured a position as a professor at Hogwarts.
After completing the necessary formalities, he exited the Headmaster's office, where Professor McGonagall was already waiting for him outside.
"Congratulations, Professor Vison," she said, walking up quickly. "Apologies for being late—I ran into Professor Kettleburn, who mentioned you'd passed the Headmaster's test. Is that true?"
Vison nodded. "Yes, Professor McGonagall."
Hearing his confirmation, McGonagall's usually stern face softened, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned in genuine approval.
"Very good, Professor Vison."
She adjusted her square glasses, her gaze carrying a flicker of appreciation. It had been years since she'd last seen Vison, but in her memory, he'd always been an excellent student—diligent, talented in Transfiguration, and bright in other subjects as well.
Who wouldn't appreciate such a promising and mostly well-behaved student?
Well, perhaps the 'well-behaved' part was debatable. The image of Vison's infamous prank—hanging a group of students from the castle walls—still lingered vividly in her mind.
Still, she sincerely believed Vison was well-suited to teach Care of Magical Creatures.
Vison followed McGonagall through the familiar stone corridors of Hogwarts. The walls, still lined with the same old portraits, seemed to whisper with curiosity as the figures inside glanced at them.
McGonagall tilted her head slightly, eyeing Vison as though recalling something.
"Speaking of which, Vison," she said, voice casual but edged with amusement, "do you remember when you first came to me asking about becoming an Animagus?"
Vison raised an eyebrow at the memory.
"Of course I remember," he replied. "I pestered you for ages before you finally gave in. I visited your office nearly every week, and I even drafted a whole scroll listing reasons why I should be allowed."
McGonagall's lips twitched, a glimmer of humor flashing in her sharp eyes. She looked at him with a half-smile and asked lightly, "So, Vison, were you ever successful?"
Vison returned a wry smile, his tone relaxed. "If I had succeeded, I think you'd have heard. After all, Animagi are required to register with the Ministry, right?"
At that, McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly. She studied him for a beat longer than usual, as though trying to read between the lines.
"Yes," she agreed slowly. "All legal Animagi must be registered with the Ministry of Magic."
She paused, then her tone shifted, more pointed. "So, Professor Vison… has your name appeared on the Ministry's registry?"
Vison coughed lightly and shrugged. "Of course not. You know as well as I do, Professor, Animagus transformation is incredibly complex—not something just anyone can pull off."
McGonagall chuckled softly but said no more on the subject. She stopped in front of a door. "Well, this is the last one. Have you decided on your office?"
Vison wasn't picky, so long as it wasn't underground.
"This one will do," he said, pushing open the door.
McGonagall glanced at the brass doorplate and gave a small nod. "This was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office."
"The previous one?" Vison asked with a sideways glance.
"Yes. You know how often that post changes hands," McGonagall sighed, clearly exasperated. "Hopefully, the new professor Dumbledore hired will last a bit longer."
Vison had almost forgotten. In his student days, the Defense Against the Dark Arts post had indeed been cursed, changing teachers every year.
It seemed that Voldemort's curse still lingered. Even after all these years, no one had managed to break it.
The office itself was unremarkable: a desk and chair set, a bookcase, two shelves, and little else.
Vison scanned the room. A few old textbooks and worn notebooks still sat on the shelves. Scorch marks marred the corner of the desk, evidence of some magical mishap.
In the corner, an empty bookcase stood, save for a single yellowed scroll of parchment, stained with a blot of black ink.
Curious, Vison walked over, picked up the parchment, and unrolled it. Scrawled in jagged handwriting were the words: "Run fast, don't look back."
Vison stared at it, expression frozen.
McGonagall, noticing his look, cleared her throat lightly. A faint flush crept into her cheeks, though her voice stayed even. "Don't worry, Professor Vison. Apart from Defense Against the Dark Arts, the rest of the staff positions are quite safe."
Vison's mouth twitched. He carefully rolled up the parchment and placed it back in the bookcase as though nothing had happened.
"After all this time, no one's managed to break Voldemort's curse?" he asked, casually but with a note of curiosity.
McGonagall flinched visibly at the name and immediately snapped, "Don't say that name!"
She frowned, then sighed. "Many powerful wizards have tried—including Dumbledore—but this isn't an ordinary curse. It seems to be tied to Hogwarts itself. To lift it, someone would need to unravel it from the source."
Vison nodded slightly, opting not to press the matter. After all, it wasn't his concern—he wasn't the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
That responsibility would fall on the next poor soul. If he remembered correctly, that would be Quirrell.
And by now, Voldemort was probably already residing at the back of Quirrell's head.
McGonagall, after ensuring everything was in order, turned to him. "Alright, Professor Vison. The rest of the day is yours. This office is now officially yours—feel free to arrange it to suit your needs."
She paused, then added, "Also, Hogwarts professors may choose to live in the castle or return home each day. It's up to you."
Vison nodded. He knew that most Hogwarts professors lived on-site, though some likely didn't have much of a home to return to.
"Thank you for the reminder, Professor McGonagall," he said. "I'll tidy up here a bit before heading back."
"If you need to use the Floo Network to go home, the fireplace in the Headmaster's office is available," she offered with a nod.
With that, McGonagall stepped away, leaving Vison standing alone in his new, slightly charred, and ominously inherited office.