pdf-ebookys Chapter 5 Woof!
Chapter 5 Woof!
"Yes, who could have predicted that we would meet under these circumstances?"
Ares said, with a fake smile on his face.
A gentle breeze lingered around Ares and Dumbledore. Under the blazing sun, the two exchanged glances, each assessing the other's current state as they prepared for their first meeting in several years.
"Tell me about yourself, Ares—"
Dumbledore smiled.
"I heard you later opened a shop?"
"It's called 'Yorozuya,' and it's located in Diagon Alley."
Ares gestured in one direction with his chin, his tone light and cheerful.
"It aims to help wizards who lack spellcasting abilities solve the problems they encounter in their daily lives."
"A respectable choice."
Dumbledore nodded, at least in a way that seemed quite relieved.
"I do not possess your noble character or profound magical powers—"
Ares wore a humble smile.
"I can only do what I can—to contribute my meager strength to making this world a better place... Well, would you like to visit my little shop? Oh, of course, but it's alright if you don't. I know wizards like you are always very busy."
"Oh, don't be so hasty, Ares,"
Dumbledore, however, had a look of delight on his face, and he nodded with a smile.
"I'd love to broaden my horizons."
Ares: ......
"This is it, Professor Dumbledore."
Twenty minutes later, in a usually deserted and quiet area of Diagon Alley, Ares pointed to a shop and said...
Not to mention that compared to the magnificent and imposing entrance of Gringotts in Diagon Alley, Ares's shop, with its iron gate no more than four or five feet wide, looked rather shabby compared to the Leaky Cauldron.
Dumbledore, of course, wouldn't show any sign of disdain.
He stood at the bottom of the steps, tilting his head back to examine the rather imposing signboard with interest—a large wooden board made of many long, bright red wooden strips, with the words "Yorozuya" painted in gold in the center, and a passage in smaller print on the lower right:
【The Yorozuya—Dedicated to solving the problems of every esteemed wizard.】
Dumbledore's eyes flickered slightly, and by the time he looked away, Ares had already pulled open the iron gate, stepped inside the shop, and entered.
Overall, the shop, which is only about 20 feet in length and width, is simply furnished.
A few straight-backed chairs, a cot, a water-red bookshelf piled high with file folders and faded paint, facing the door, and then—
Dumbledore's deep blue eyes, behind his half-moon glasses, gleamed as he followed Ares's retreating figure to a tea table, where he fixed his gaze on it.
The shop's doors had been locked for half a month, and fine dust covered every corner of the shop, but on Ares' tea table, there was a letter that was spotless... He watched as Ares calmly picked up the letter, opened it, and quickly read it.
"It's my landlady, Mrs. Smith—"
Ares turned to Dumbledore, waved the letter in his hand, shrugged, and remained expressionless.
"Here to collect the rent... Well then, would you like something to drink, Professor Dumbledore?"
Ares casually slipped the envelope into his pocket, walked around to the other side of the tea table, and pointed to a wooden sign on the table that read "Free Tea".
"I have boiled water and moldy black tea here."
"Oh, and if I could, I'd like a glass of Ogden Firewood. After being underground for half a month, for someone my age—"
Dumbledore's lips twitched, and he stopped himself before he could finish speaking. He saw Ares silently turn the wooden sign on the table, which clearly read: [Drinks at your own expense].
"But then again, for an old man like me, plain water is just fine, Ares."
Dumbledore smoothed things over.
"Please wait a moment."
Ares nodded happily and placed the cold teapot on the stove, but he 'overlooked' that the charcoal in the stove was also cold.
So, for two people who haven't seen each other for years and each harbor their own secrets, having a pleasant conversation is not an easy thing, but Dumbledore still managed to find a topic to talk about.
He examined Ares carefully and smiled.
"You look good, Ares. It seems the two-week trip to Azkaban didn't do you any harm."
"I cannot agree with you, Professor Dumbledore—"
Ares suddenly covered his mouth and coughed violently for a while. Coupled with the faint dark circles under his eyes, he immediately looked weak and powerless.
"Azkaban lives up to its reputation, and the Dementors are even more terrifying than the rumors suggest—they always remind me of the most horrible day of my life... the most horrible thing that ever happened to me, you know—I, an innocent person, was driven out by the tyrannical and unreasonable school administration... forced to leave my beloved Hogwarts... cough cough!"
Dumbledore was silent for a moment, and his bright eyes dimmed.
"That's so touching, Ares. I never knew you had such deep feelings for Hogwarts—"
But a few seconds later, Dumbledore regained his composure, looked at Ares with delight, and continued the conversation.
"What a delightful coincidence... Now there just happens to be an opportunity to make up for your regret, and it also happens to solve the problem that's currently troubling me."
"What is it?"
Ares pretended to be very interested.
"Oh, look—"
Dumbledore stared at Ares, his azure eyes gleaming.
"Given Quirrell's current condition, he's probably no longer fit to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. If you'd like... it's a win-win situation, isn't it?"
"Me? A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"
Ares's smile remained unchanged.
"You must be joking, Professor Dumbledore. I don't have that ability."
"Humility is a fine virtue, Ares, but excessive humility is not. In my opinion, the way you just took down that vampire was both swift and beautiful!"
"I'm sure you haven't forgotten that I haven't received any NEWTs magic courses, and I don't even have an OWL certificate."
"That move you used to take down the vampire was both swift and beautiful!"
"I even lost my wand when you fired me."
"That move you used to take down the vampire was both swift and beautiful!"
"Please have some self-respect, Professor Dumbledore. I have my own career to pursue."
"You just now... oh—"
Dumbledore fell silent, his gaze shifting from Ares's stiff smile to something behind him.
The slightly faded wallpaper also bore the same words from the signboard: "The Yorozuya—Dedicated to solving the problems of every esteemed wizard."
"So—"
Dumbledore turned his clear gaze back and smiled.
"How about we do it your way—I can formally commission you, Ares, instead of inviting you—oh, and of course, price is not an issue at all. I've always felt I have a bit too much wealth."
Ares: ......
....................
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster's Office.
Albus Dumbledore stood solemnly before a worn-out old hat. Behind the narrow-legged desk, on the curved wall, the portraits of past headmasters hung, all seemingly listening intently; some of the older headmasters even had their hearing aids on.
"—In my opinion, Slytherin would be the best place for him, but he told me he preferred Gryffindor."
So I told him that I knew this wasn't his true idea, but he insisted on going—the four founders told me that sometimes it's necessary to respect the opinions of those involved...
Tap, tap, tap—
A deep knock sounded on the door.
"What did you call me for?"
After the door opened, a greasy-haired, cold-faced middle-aged man strode in. He glared at Dumbledore almost rudely and asked in a very impatient tone.
"Ares Delphinor will return to Hogwarts and replace Quirrell as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
Dumbledore, his expression impassive, gave the instructions in a soft voice.
"Could you keep a close eye on him for me, Severus?"
...................
House of Everything.
Ares watched the aged figure leave the shop, and then quickly moved away using his magical senses.
The sun was setting in the west, and the sunlight was less scorching, but it was still dazzling.
After glancing outside for a while, Ares looked away, casually placing the baby bottle and folded parchment from his pocket on the tea table. His smile faded, and he quietly looked at the letter.
But the dead fly inside the bottle wouldn't stay still, and kept banging against the bottle wall.
"Stop making a fuss."
Ares said calmly,
"The letter says the meeting time has been changed to August 31st, and the location is on the Hogwarts Express... Wow, I must say, that's a brilliant idea."
The dead fly did stop, but its two huge green eyes were still staring at Ares with a questioning look.
"Why did you agree to Dumbledore's pointless request to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"
The usual joy that was in Ares's clear black eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling coldness that could freeze one's heart.
"Ha—assuming you still have a brain, assuming your brain hasn't been damaged by the Dementors, and can still serve a tiny, insignificant purpose, then you should understand—"
Ares said indifferently,
"Dumbledore has his eye on me—he won't give up until his suspicions are dispelled..."
Of course, the simplest way would be to just kill him, but unfortunately, after careful and cautious evaluation, I think that if I act now, the probability of him successfully killing me is... perhaps a tiny bit higher than the probability of me killing him—”
The dead flies finally quieted down, at least temporarily. Ares had no heart to run the business today. He stood up, tidied up the room, and, reflecting on his gloomy expression, locked the shop door.
"I have some news, Ares, that I bet you'll be interested in!"
At the Leaky Cauldron, old Tom, reeking of feces, enthusiastically called out to Ares, who was on his way to London.
"Oh, what is it?"
"Mr. Dumbledore just ordered me a glass of whiskey—"
"Wow, this is big news, Tom! I bet this will be the front page of tomorrow's Daily Prophet!"
"Oh, wait a minute, Ares,"
Old Tom smacked his lips and said with a grin,
"He told people he had found a new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts—but Mr. Dumbledore didn't mention the poor fellow… Oh, sorry, did I mean the poor fellow… I mean, who do you think the new professor will be, Ares? Do you think the new professor will survive until the start of the semester?"
Ares (expressionless): Woof!
A moment of silence.
Old Tom: ? ? ?
"no way-"
Ares's lips tightened, his face showing deep sorrow.
"It's not that I wanted to agree, it's just that he offered too much."