In Magic World as Magic Teacher

Chapter 6: Professor McGonagall's Visit

7:00 PM

Sherlock stared at his reflection in the mirror, noting the disgruntled expression on his face. Satisfied with his appearance, he nodded slightly.

The painting on the wall of his study began its usual cursing again. Sherlock ignored it, grabbed his wand and a magic book, and then left the study, closing the door behind him. He settled on the sofa in the living room, ready for his visitor.

The original owner of this house had been an emotionally closed individual, never revealing his true feelings—even in front of his most respected mentor, Professor Dumbledore. Sherlock deduced that the study was a secret sanctuary for the original owner, a place where no one, not even the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, was allowed. Hence, Sherlock had chosen the living room as the meeting place for their conversation.

7:20 PM

There were no footsteps outside the door, but suddenly, a knock echoed through the room.

Someone was here.

Sherlock took a deep breath, trying to calm the tension building in his chest. He put the book he'd been holding back on the coffee table and walked to the door. When he opened it, he found Professor McGonagall standing on the threshold.

She was tall, with square glasses perched on her nose, her black hair tied up in a neat bun. Her dark green robes, accented with a Scottish plaid shirt, completed the look. On her head sat a pointed hat, and her face was lined with the wrinkles of age. Her expression was stern, exuding an air of authority.

"Good evening, Sherlock," she greeted him, not using his last name but addressing him as familiarly as one might address a close colleague.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanged. He frowned slightly but stepped aside to let her in. "Good evening, Professor."

McGonagall entered the living room, but Sherlock noticed she didn't seem to see any difference in him. She appeared oblivious to the subtle change in his demeanor, unaware that the person standing before her was not the same Sherlock she once knew.

"You really should go out more," she said with a sigh, settling herself onto the sofa. "Spending all your time alone isn't good for you. You should visit your father more often; after all, he's your only family."

Her words confirmed Sherlock's earlier guess: her relationship with the original owner wasn't just professional—it seemed more personal. Though there had been few mentions of McGonagall in the diary, those brief references had never hinted at such a close bond. It was clear now that she spoke to Sherlock like a concerned elder, which only heightened Sherlock's suspicion.

The more familiar she was, the greater the risk of her discovering the truth. He didn't know the original owner's exact relationship with Professor McGonagall, but whatever it was, Sherlock was playing a dangerous game.

"I don't need you to worry about my life," Sherlock replied coldly, his tone hardening. Then, growing a bit impatient, he continued, "You mentioned in your letter that there was something important regarding my conversation with Professor Dumbledore. What did he say?"

Sherlock didn't directly ask about the response to his application for the Order of the Phoenix. Asking too much might lead to mistakes—after all, he had no idea what other matters the original owner might have discussed with Dumbledore, matters that weren't mentioned in the diary. By phrasing his question this way, Sherlock shifted the burden of explaining onto McGonagall.

And McGonagall, never suspecting anything, took the bait. She seemed to find nothing odd about his behavior; after all, the original owner was always distant, especially to anyone who wasn't Dumbledore. But when Dumbledore's approval was involved, the original owner would often show enthusiasm.

Professor McGonagall sighed and smiled slightly, then said, "Dumbledore has agreed to your request to join the Order of the Phoenix. He recognizes both your ability and your character."

Sherlock's heart relaxed at the confirmation. But he tried his best to maintain an indifferent demeanor.

"I knew it," he muttered. "A great wizard like Dumbledore would never reject my application."

He then quickly added, trying to seem unaffected, "But for something like this, you didn't need to come all the way here. You could have just told me in a letter and informed me about the next meeting."

McGonagall watched him, a slight shake of her head revealing her disapproval. She then looked at Sherlock seriously, her voice lowering.

"There's something sensitive I probably shouldn't tell you," she began. "But, as Sally's son, and because it concerns your safety, I must warn you—joining the Order of the Phoenix isn't like joining a Hogwarts club."

Sherlock's attention piqued. He had an inkling of what she might mean.

"This year," McGonagall continued, "there has been another incident. Becoming a member of the Order means you will be in danger, possibly even putting your life at risk."

Sherlock's thoughts shifted. This was the year after Harry Potter had completed his first year at Hogwarts, which meant the events surrounding the Philosopher's Stone had already concluded. By now, Voldemort's influence was becoming more noticeable, and the Order of the Phoenix had been re-established to combat the growing threat of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

So, yes—McGonagall was likely referring to the dangers posed by Voldemort's return. But there was no turning back for Sherlock now. He couldn't back out of joining the Order, not with his original owner's resolve to stand by Dumbledore. He simply wasn't the type to retreat.

Remaining impassive, Sherlock replied, his tone a bit sharper, "I'm well aware of the risks, Professor. If I weren't, I wouldn't have applied in the first place. You don't need to keep repeating it. Is there anything else?"

McGonagall had long grown used to his bluntness. While others might find his behavior off-putting, she understood it. She didn't take offense but only felt pity for him. With a small smile, she reached into her robe pocket and produced a piece of parchment.

"Actually, there's one more thing," she said, her voice taking on a lighter tone. "Congratulations, Sherlock. Dumbledore has also approved your application to become the new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Here is your letter of appointment. From this semester onward, we'll be colleagues."

Sherlock froze.

For a moment, he couldn't speak. The words caught him completely off guard.