Days passed, and Harry spent nearly every day studying with Vinson. The growth progress bar of the Tree of Wisdom steadily rose, eventually stabilizing at fifty percent. While no one knew exactly why the Tree's growth accelerated simply by being near Harry, Vinson believed that, in time, the answer would reveal itself as the Tree continued to mature.
By June of 1991, the weather had warmed, and Vinson had switched to his summer robes. On this particular day, he gave Harry an unusual day off. He needed to visit Diagon Alley, and for reasons only he understood, he brought along a small Devil's Snare in case he encountered "special situations."
The fireplace in Vinson's home—his gateway to the Floo Network—hadn't been used in so long it was thick with dust. When he finally arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, he stumbled out of the fireplace, patting his robes and accidentally stirring up a thick cloud of soot. A nearby witch wrinkled her nose and shuffled away from him, muttering under her breath. Vinson sighed. Perhaps next time, he'd have Harry clean out the fireplace before using it.
"Vinson?" A familiar, slightly hoarse voice called from behind the bar.
Looking up, Vinson saw Tom, the barkeep of the Leaky Cauldron, watching him with mild amusement. "Good afternoon, Tom," Vinson greeted, stepping forward to tap the counter. Tom, ever the attentive host, slid a glass of mead across the bar to him.
Despite Vinson's months-long absence, Tom remembered him as if no time had passed. Before Vinson could even sip his drink, Tom leaned closer and murmured, "By the way, Professor Kettleburn is waiting for you. Third table on your left."
Following Tom's nod, Vinson spotted the old wizard seated in the dim corner—a man with graying hair and bandages wrapped around his arm. Sylvanus Kettleburn, the current Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts, and among Vinson's closest mentors. Their shared love for magical creatures had forged a deep bond. In fact, after Vinson graduated, the two had even ventured to Norway to study dragons together.
As Vinson's gaze settled on Kettleburn, the professor's eyes lit up. "Oh!" Kettleburn shoved his stool back and stood up quickly, limping towards Vinson with surprising speed for a man his age and condition. He enveloped Vinson in a bone-crushing hug, his strength belying his battered appearance. Vinson nearly staggered under the embrace.
"Haha!" Kettleburn roared, clapping Vinson on the back. "Long time no see, Little Ed."
"Likewise, Professor," Vinson replied, helpless against the older man's enthusiasm.
Kettleburn chuckled and gestured towards the corner table. "Sit down, have a sip to warm your throat."
Vinson slid into a chair, his gaze never leaving the professor. Kettleburn took a deep swig of his drink before speaking again. "Still fooling around with those strange plants, are you?"
Vinson smiled faintly, swirling his mead. "Of course, Professor. You know I can't resist them."
Kettleburn's face scrunched into a disapproving frown. "You should be dedicating more time to magical creatures. Back when you graduated, you already had significant achievements in that field. Had you continued, you'd be leading breakthroughs by now."
"I know, I know," Vinson said with a sigh, shaking his head. "But both magical creatures and plants fascinate me. I've never stopped studying creatures—I just happen to enjoy my plants too."
Kettleburn grunted but nodded. He remembered well how Vinson, fresh out of Hogwarts, had revolutionized the magical world by developing the first successful method for breeding Thunderbirds—creatures previously thought impossible to breed in captivity due to their acute danger sense and aversion to humans. Vinson's breakthrough had sent ripples through the entire field.
Still, Kettleburn wasn't one to let things go easily. "But that's not why I asked you here, Little Ed," he said with a toothy grin, setting his glass down. "I've got a bit of a situation, and you're the best person I know who can handle it."
Vinson's curiosity was piqued. "What is it, Professor?"
Kettleburn sighed dramatically. "I'm leaving Hogwarts, Ed. Retiring."
Vinson blinked in surprise, then arched a brow. "Finally got fired, did you, Professor?"
Kettleburn shot him a mock glare. "Retired. Voluntarily!"
"Oh," Vinson muttered, though part of him wondered if the professor's secret stash of illegally reared fire dragons had finally come to light.
Kettleburn knocked his wooden prosthetic arm against the table with a hollow thud. "You know how it is. I'm not as young as I used to be. My limbs are giving me more trouble, and I keep landing myself in the infirmary. Thought it was time to step back before I lose what's left of me."
Vinson raised a brow but remained silent. Kettleburn had lost an arm and half a leg in earlier accidents, but magical prosthetics allowed him to function almost normally. Still, age was catching up.
"I still love teaching, don't get me wrong," Kettleburn went on. "But honestly, I'd rather spend my remaining years out in the field with the creatures than stuck in a classroom lecturing snot-nosed kids about salamander safety."
Vinson chuckled. "Sounds like a wise decision, Professor."
"Exactly!" Kettleburn's face brightened. "And Dumbledore's already approved it. I'm officially retiring before the next term starts."
"So who's replacing you?" Vinson asked, intrigued.
Kettleburn leaned forward, grinning slyly. He jabbed a finger at Vinson. "You are."
Vinson gaped. "Me?"
Kettleburn roared with laughter at Vinson's dumbfounded expression. "Don't look so shocked, Little Ed. I've already recommended you to Dumbledore. Of course, you'll still need to go through the interview process and a probation period. You're young, and Dumbledore wants to be sure you can handle the job."
Vinson rubbed his temples. "Professor, you can't be serious. I never planned to be a Hogwarts professor."
"Didn't you tell me a year ago that if the opportunity arose, you'd consider teaching at Hogwarts?" Kettleburn shot back.
Vinson paused. Now that the professor mentioned it... he had said something along those lines during a late-night conversation over firewhisky. He wasn't opposed to teaching, but the idea of taking over such a significant role was daunting.
"What did Dumbledore say?" Vinson asked cautiously.
"He's willing to give you an interview. If you pass, you'll start with a probationary period—standard procedure. He's worried, naturally. You're just twenty-five, and he's unsure if you can manage a group of young witches and wizards."
Vinson nodded. "Fair enough. If I were him, I'd be cautious too."
Kettleburn shrugged. "I've already turned in my final paycheck. As of a few days ago, I'm officially done."
Silence fell over the table for a few moments. Vinson took a slow sip of his mead, weighing the offer in his mind. The thought of becoming a Hogwarts professor was both thrilling and intimidating. He would have access to resources and young minds eager to learn, but he would also be stepping into big shoes—and under constant scrutiny.
Finally, he exhaled and looked at Kettleburn.
"...Let me think about it, Professor."