Chapter 5. The old Fawkes's lies?!
It was a white lie! A white lie, you understand?!
Back home, Lynn bitterly criticized his system,
vowing never, ever to use that shameful title!
It was an insult to his character, a trampling of his integrity, and he had to resist it.
Putting the system out of his mind, Lynn prepared dinner while thinking about going to London the next day.
There were less than 10 days left until the timed mission ended, and Professor McGonagall's promised professor was still nowhere to be found.
Lynn certainly didn't want to miss the mission rewards, so he couldn't wait any longer.
Just as he was washing the tomatoes, lost in thought, he suddenly heard a strange noise from the living room window.
Lynn heard the sound, turned to look out the window, and saw an owl watching him through the glass.
Good deeds are rewarded! He'd just told a white lie today, and the Hogwarts owl had arrived that very night.
Lynn opened the window for the owl, took a thin envelope from it, and then gave it some breadcrumbs and a bowl of water to welcome this guest from afar.
Bothering that he didn't finish cooking; Lynn sat on the sofa and opened the envelope. Inside was only a single sheet of paper. "
Dear Mr. Bellok:
Professor Adrian Fawkes of the Defense Against the Dark Arts will be visiting at 9:00 AM on July 3rd.
Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.
" The professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts?
Lynn tilted his head, deep in thought, holding the letter.
It was said that the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts was cursed by Voldemort; Lynn didn't know if the rumor was true.
But it was true that Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would have an accident every year, meaning it was replaced annually.
This year was 1990, a year before the Harry Potter storyline began.
And this Professor Fawkes, who shared the same surname as Dumbledore's pet phoenix, was a character who hadn't appeared in the original books.
His temperament and character were unknown to Lynn.
This gave him a headache.
Who knows what went wrong with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year?
As everyone knows, Dumbledore's eye for Defense Against the Dark Arts professors is always unreliable.
What if Professor Fawkes is a dark wizard? Snape, that shameless shrew, would have been a better choice.
Damn it! Isn't it supposed to be good deeds that are rewarded?!
Just as Lynn was frowning in distress, the messenger owl had finished its meal and flew contentedly around the living room, as if thanking Lynn for his hospitality, before leisurely soaring into the night sky.
Unable to come up with any solutions, Lynn simply stopped thinking about it.
Since Professor McGonagall had asked him to take him to Diagon Alley to shop, it meant she trusted his character.
Professor McGonagall was a responsible headmistress; since he was someone she trusted, there shouldn't be any problems.
He'd deal with whatever came his way; he'd handle tomorrow's problems tomorrow. For today, he'd focus on getting dinner sorted out.
…
The next morning, after finishing his daily run and having breakfast, Lynn prepared tea and snacks for Professor Fawkes's visit, waiting patiently.
But he waited and waited, until almost ten o'clock, and the professor still hadn't arrived.
Just as Lynn was growing impatient and feeling like he'd been stood up, a loud crash suddenly came from his backyard!
Even through the window, he could see that it looked like a plane had crashed, with large amounts of damp dirt mixed with turf flying everywhere.
Lynn's face changed, and he rushed from the living room to the backyard, where he saw a scene of utter chaos.
A tall, thin old man with a full head of silver hair was sprawled face-first on his property.
Behind him, a broken broomstick was trembling wildly. What pained Lynn the most was the vast expanse of destroyed turf.
He hadn't inherited any property yet, and his monthly expenses were fixed, with a limited amount deducted from his inheritance.
The money he saved was needed to exchange for Galleons in Diagon Alley, leaving him with no surplus to buy such a large lawn.
Just as Lynn was wallowing in the sorrow of poverty, the culprit, the silver-haired old man, staggered to his feet.
He wore a long overcoat with a white lining and even a tie. A few specks of dirt and grass made him look somewhat disheveled, but they couldn't conceal his transcendent aura. "Lynn Bellok?"
The old man flicked the dirt off his glasses, wiping them on his face as he asked.
Lynn was pulled back to reality by his voice.
"Uh, yes, it's me."
"Good. Looks like I didn't fly the wrong way. I'm your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Adrian Fawkes. You can call me Professor Fawkes."
Professor Fawkes spoke somewhat hurriedly. After regaining his footing, he pulled out his wand and casually waved it at the a pitiful broken broomstick, which immediately fell silent.
Before Lynn could speak, he grabbed Lynn's arm and pulled him into the living room.
"Um..."
"Don't speak yet, kid. Listen to me." Once inside, Professor Fawkes's breathing became heavy again, his urgent voice interrupting Lynn.
"I'm having some health issues right now, so I need your help to prepare some things. It's very important, do you understand?"
Although he didn't know what had happened, Lynn could see that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's face was indeed unhealthy and pale.
"Understood."
Seeing that the situation was indeed urgent, Lynn didn't waste any words.
After entering the living room, Professor Fawkes began frantically pulling things out of his trench coat pocket.
Like Doraemon's pocket, the space inside seemed endless, and soon a jumble of odds and ends piled up beside Professor Fawkes.
"A crucible, an alcohol stove, tubers, oil, powders... I need alcohol, but not just any alcohol or red wine! It has to be fermented barley!"
Professor Fawkes quickly discovered what he was missing, and he looked at Lynn urgently, as if time was of the essence.
Lynn was stunned for a moment, then quickly shook his head.
"I don't have any beer at home, but there's a convenience store 200 meters east of here, I can go buy some." Professor Fawkes looked really bad, and he looked at Lynn with gratitude in his eyes.
"Please, Bellok."
"Hang in there, Professor, I'll be right back."
Lynn grabbed his coat and ran outside, heading straight for the convenience store.
Under the surprised gaze of the cashier, he grabbed a bag of canned beer, threw the money on the counter, and ran home without even giving change.
Only after he had disappeared from sight did the cashier remember that he was a minor, and the law prohibited him from buying any alcoholic beverages, but by then it was too late to get him back.
On his way back, Lynn suddenly felt something was wrong.
The professor seemed to be brewing a potion, but what potion recipe requires beer?
And the professor was in such a hurry; he didn't seem to be being chased.
If he knew of a potion that could solve his health problems, it meant this wasn't his first time having an attack, and such an emergency potion should be readily available, not brewed on the spot.
The more Lynn thought about it, the more uneasy he felt, and the faster he ran back.
In less than five minutes, he was back home.
As soon as the living room door opened, Lynn was greeted by an enticing aroma.
The scene before him stunned him.
On the cutting board, two cleavers, unattended, moved with incredible speed, slicing fresh potatoes and lettuce into thin slices that seemed to leap onto plates on their own.
The old man who called himself Professor Fawkes sat in the center of the living room, holding a pair of chopsticks he'd taken from the kitchen, rapidly adding lamb to a boiling cauldron.
"Wow, Bellok, you're back so fast. I didn't expect you to have chopsticks. Saves me the trouble of using Transfiguration to conjure a pair."
The alcohol stove burned brightly, and glistening oil floated on the red broth in the cauldron. Professor Fawkes smiled slyly at Lynn, who stood dazedly at the door, beer in hand, looking like a cunning old fox who'd stolen a chicken.
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