In the days that followed, Vison waited anxiously for his letter from Hogwarts while continuing to craft the prosthetic limbs that Professor Kettleburn had requested.
Oh, right—Harry.
Since Harry had a mountain of tasks piling up, Vison decided to give him a few days off.
Even the most diligent students deserve a break now and then, right? Besides, after the Tree of Wisdom project kicks off, they'll have plenty of chances to cross paths again. A few days apart wouldn't hurt.
One afternoon, while Vison was delivering a newly finished arm and half-leg to the shop, he heard a soft flapping sound outside the window.
A tawny owl stood on the sill, a thick envelope tied securely to its claw.
Vison stepped over, untied the letter, and the owl gave a soft hoot before flying off with a powerful flap of its wings.
Opening the envelope, Vison was greeted by the familiar Hogwarts crest embossed in gold, and below it, handwriting unmistakably Dumbledore's—elegant, yet slightly whimsical.
A slow smile spread across Vison's face. He had waited for this moment for a long time.
Dear Mr. Vison,
First and foremost, please allow me to express my heartfelt appreciation for your exceptional talent in the field of magical creatures.
Professor Kettleburn has spoken highly of your abilities and has recommended you as his successor with great confidence.
Given your extensive knowledge and unique insights, I am pleased to formally invite you to assume the role of Care of Magical Creatures Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Before your official appointment, we kindly ask that you arrive at Hogwarts no later than 10:00 AM on July 15th to complete a series of practical evaluations.
May wisdom and courage accompany you always. I look forward to meeting you in person.
Headmaster,
Albus Dumbledore
Vison folded the letter carefully and tucked it into a small drawer of his desk.
"A little quiz, huh?" he murmured to himself.
Typical Dumbledore. Hogwarts wouldn't hire a professor based on recommendation alone, even if that endorsement came from someone as respected as Kettleburn. The Headmaster clearly wanted to evaluate him in person.
Vison stood, stretched his shoulders, and cast a glance toward the door leading to his magical greenhouse.
His smile deepened.
"Well then, if Dumbledore wants a demonstration… I'll make sure it's one to remember."
— — —
The appointed day arrived before long.
When Vison reached the grand gates of Hogwarts, he spotted a familiar figure in the distance.
Professor Kettleburn was waiting for him, looking as lively as ever despite his age and the creak of his prosthetic limbs.
"I didn't expect you to come greet me yourself, Professor," Vison called out as he approached, his stride steady and confident.
He carried a leather briefcase and wore a brand-new black robe—custom ordered from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
Kettleburn chuckled, waving a hand that creaked slightly with the motion.
"I'm just here to tidy up my office," he said. "But then the Headmaster suddenly tasked me with receiving you."
He gave Vison a conspiratorial grin.
"Frankly, I thought Professor McGonagall would be the one to meet you."
Vison glanced around at the towering spires of the castle, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and excitement.
"She's probably buried in work right now," he said lightly. "It's the season for acceptance letters, after all—that's a job that can't be delayed."
"Exactly!" Kettleburn laughed. "Headmaster's been piling tasks on her desk faster than she can clear them."
They chatted amiably as they made their way through the familiar corridors, heading up toward the spiral staircase that led to the Headmaster's office.
To be honest, back in his student days, Vison had been something of a "background character"—never drawing much attention, aside from his slightly above-average grades.
He doubted that Dumbledore even remembered him.
For the record, Vison had been sorted into Hufflepuff.
"Ah, you've finally arrived, Mr. Vison."
A warm, vibrant voice echoed from above the stairs.
Dumbledore appeared at the landing, his presence just as commanding and gentle as Vison remembered.
"Good morning, Headmaster," Vison greeted, standing tall and meeting the old wizard's gaze squarely, with a mix of respect and quiet confidence.
Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes lingered for a moment on Vison's briefcase before he smiled.
"I hear," he began with an almost playful tone, "that you crafted a set of prosthetics for our dear Professor Kettleburn?"
Vison blinked, surprised that Dumbledore would mention that first.
"Yes, sir," he replied, unsure where this was leading.
"Curious, isn't it? I had planned to gift him a new set upon his retirement," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But he declined, saying his student would provide something far superior."
Kettleburn gave a sheepish chuckle beside them.
Realization dawned on Vison, and he nodded. So that's what happened—his gift and Dumbledore's plan had coincided.
"I put a lot of care into designing those new limbs," Vison said. "I hope they'll serve him well."
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Then I suppose I must thank you for sparing me the trouble."
He paused, then added, "But, as pleasant as conversation is, we do have a small test to conduct. Mr. Vison, I look forward to witnessing firsthand what has so impressed Professor Kettleburn."
"It will be my honor," Vison replied, following Dumbledore and Kettleburn as they made their way out of the castle, past the greenhouses and toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
They stopped near Hagrid's hut, in a broad clearing.
"Hagrid!" Kettleburn bellowed.
Moments later, heavy footsteps shook the ground, and Hagrid's massive form appeared around the corner of his home.
"Headmaster! Professor! And—blimey—Mr. Vison!" Hagrid beamed, his bearded face lighting up with childlike enthusiasm.
"I've been waiting for this all morning!"
Vison couldn't help but smile at Hagrid's unrestrained excitement, though curiosity gnawed at him.
Just what kind of test had they prepared for him?
Surely they weren't planning to throw a Dragon at him…
No, impossible. Live Dragons were heavily regulated by the Ministry of Magic. Not even Dumbledore would—
"Bring it in, Hagrid," Dumbledore said softly, giving a nod.
"Right away!"
Hagrid rubbed his massive hands together and disappeared behind his hut. A moment later, the ground trembled again as he dragged a massive iron cage into the clearing.
Vison's heart skipped a beat.
When Hagrid pulled the tarp off, his eyes widened in shock.
They had brought a Dragon.
A real Dragon.
For a brief second, Vison's mind reeled.
The creature inside the cage slept soundly, its black, metallic scales gleaming in the sun, and along its back, sharp ridges marked it as a formidable predator.
"A Norwegian Ridgeback," Vison identified almost instinctively, steadying his breath.
The black ridged spine was unmistakable.
"You have ten minutes to subdue the Dragon," Dumbledore announced with a serene smile, as though he were assigning homework.
"Also, the usual anti-Apparition wards have been lifted for the duration of your trial."
With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore made the massive cage vanish into thin air.
The sleeping Dragon was now free—and vulnerable.
Hagrid and Kettleburn both retreated quickly, putting as much distance between themselves and the soon-to-be-awake creature as possible.
Vison found himself standing alone in the clearing, with only Dumbledore watching from a safe distance, his eyes alight with curiosity.
Vison inhaled slowly, forcing calm into his limbs.
The test had begun.