Having passed the test, Vinson was invited into the principal's office to sign several agreements.
Coincidentally, the office password that day was "Licorice Wand."
It was a kind of candy Vinson found utterly repulsive. He could never understand why anyone would enjoy something that tasted like dirt. However, a faint, sweet fragrance hung in the air. This was most likely because the drawer beneath the desk had been stuffed full of various kinds of candy.
Dumbledore asked Vinson to sit down at the desk, then produced a paper document that looked very much like a contract.
"Do you remember your fifth year?" he asked, then paused, as if he had touched upon a topic he should not have mentioned. "Hmm… that was a difficult time. Perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up."
Vinson gave an awkward smile.
To be honest, not everything in life went according to plan.
When Lord Voldemort's power was at its peak, no one at Hogwarts could remain uninvolved, and Vinson was no exception. Even though he had always been careful to avoid causing trouble, trouble had a habit of finding him.
During the First Wizarding War, Vinson had been in his fifth year.
It was during that time that certain events completely shattered the peaceful five years of study he had once enjoyed.
Back then, Lord Voldemort's influence had permeated the entire school and was not confined to a single house. To a certain extent, the four houses of Hogwarts had even achieved an unprecedented form of unity — one faction supporting Lord Voldemort, and everyone else standing against them.
As a non-pureblood wizard, Vinson naturally belonged to the group that did not support Lord Voldemort.
At first, the fifth-year Vinson had no intention of getting involved in these conflicts. Unfortunately, the situation spiraled beyond his control. Even though he tried repeatedly to avoid those fanatical worshippers of Lord Voldemort, he was eventually targeted.
After all, Vinson, as the top student in his year, was considered a valuable target.
Under the planning and organization of several Slytherin students, Vinson was cornered by a large group of people on a particular weekend afternoon.
The only thing that comforted him at the time was that there was not a single Hufflepuff student among that group.
By a twist of fate, Vinson had just completed the first evolution of his Devil's Snare that very week.
And so, on that unforgettable afternoon, a large crowd of students ended up hanging limply from the north wall of the castle like air-dried ham.
After that incident, Vinson's life suddenly became quiet.
No longer did students in black robes secretly follow him through the corridors. Those worshippers of Lord Voldemort, as if bound by an unspoken agreement, no longer dared to approach him.
Because of that incident, he had even been summoned to the principal's office for tea by the principal, who had been overwhelmed with work at the time.
"That was indeed not a pleasant experience," Vinson said, carefully reading the document lying on the desk. It was the Hogwarts letter of employment. "Where should I sign my name?"
"Bottom left, Adrian."
With a smooth motion, the quill spun lightly between Vinson's fingers before he solemnly signed his name.
After signing and setting the pen down, Vinson felt an indescribable sensation, as if he had forged a connection with Hogwarts itself beneath his feet.
He looked up at Dumbledore, who smiled kindly.
"Hogwarts welcomes your arrival, Professor Vinson."
…
After successfully completing this important matter, Vinson let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Candy?" Dumbledore asked with a smile as he pulled open the top drawer of the desk, revealing a dazzling array of colorful candy wrappers.
There seemed to be even more varieties of candy here than in Honeydukes.
Vinson shook his head, politely declining the old principal's kind offer.
Seeing this, Dumbledore didn't press further. He took a piece of chocolate and placed it in his mouth, then casually waved his right hand.
A flash of magic passed through the air, and a porcelain teacup gently floated in front of Vinson, filling itself with warm, fragrant tea.
"We have plenty of time to chat," Dumbledore said, glancing at the clock on the wall.
Vinson was naturally willing to talk with his future superior.
Dumbledore took a small sip of tea, his azure eyes twinkling faintly behind his half-moon spectacles, as though he were lost in thought.
"Adrian, how is your sister doing lately?" he asked gently, with a trace of genuine concern in his voice. "Is she all right?"
Hearing this question, Vinson's hand paused slightly on the teacup, and his eyes dimmed a little.
"She is still receiving treatment in a hospital in the United States," he said quietly. "Her condition… is much better than before, but the effects of the Cruciatus Curse are not so easy to eliminate."
"Much better?" Dumbledore asked softly.
"Yes. Occasionally, she wakes up from her coma, but she seems to see nothing. She just stares blankly at the ceiling."
After hearing these words, Dumbledore's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and his voice carried a note of comfort.
"The scars left by Dark Arts are extremely difficult to heal, especially the Cruciatus Curse. It torments both body and mind to their limits."
Then he let out a heavy sigh.
"But she is still alive. That, in itself, is a kind of blessing."
Vinson sighed inwardly as well.
His sister had once been a student at Hogwarts. Heartbreakingly, due to a terrible oversight, she had been caught in the battle between Lord Voldemort and the Order of the Phoenix during a Hogsmeade visit and had been struck by the Cruciatus Curse.
That day had been the day before Lord Voldemort's downfall.
One could only say that fate was cruel. That attack became an indelible shadow, deeply etched into Vinson's memory.
If he had been able to arrive at the scene sooner that day, perhaps things might have been different. But there were no "ifs" in this world. Since that day, his sister had fallen into a prolonged coma and was still receiving treatment in a hospital in the United States.
The wandering years Vinson experienced after graduation were not only for broadening his horizons. In truth, they were spent searching desperately for a way to heal his sister.
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment, gently swirling the tea in his cup.
"I am very sorry," he said suddenly.
"What?" Vinson looked up at him in surprise.
"I failed to protect my students," Dumbledore said quietly, with clear self-reproach in his voice. "The safety of the students should have been my responsibility. But war always forces too many people to pay a price… I am truly sorry."
Hearing Dumbledore's words, Vinson lowered his gaze. His fingertips traced the rim of the teacup slowly as he spoke in a soft voice.
"Your apology should be for my sister, Principal. I remember you promised that you would protect the safety of all students. But clearly, Principal, you failed my sister."
Dumbledore had not expected Vinson to be so direct.
The hand holding his teacup paused slightly, but he did not immediately respond. He only watched the tea continue to swirl silently.
"Your anger is understandable, Adrian," he said at last, his voice low and heavy. "I cannot deny it. I have indeed failed the trust of many people."
At that moment, Vinson realized that he had overreacted.
He knew his accusation had sounded overly sharp and impolite.
After a brief silence, he slowly set the teacup down, and his tone softened.
"I'm sorry, Principal. I spoke too harshly… This is just my own complaint, after all. You have already done more than enough."
Dumbledore looked at him without speaking.
What a terrible conversation, Vinson thought to himself.
He took a deep breath and tried to calm the storm of emotions in his heart.
He knew that venting his resentment toward the old principal in front of him would not change anything.
"I will heal her," Vinson said firmly, as if he were speaking both to Dumbledore and to himself. "I definitely will."
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment.
Then he spoke seriously.
"I believe you, Adrian."