"Okay, the priest said you can come in."
Outside the door, Bran glanced doubtfully at Professor McGonagall, reluctantly stepping aside with outstretched hands on the doorknob, his black eyes reminiscent of the crow's irises she once saw by the roadside.
"Thank you."
After a glance at the boy standing guard like a sentinel, McGonagall pursed her lips, offering a faint smile, nodding courteously, and entered the room.
"Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Professor McGonagall. Pleasure to meet both of you."
McGonagall nodded amicably at the two occupants in the room, taking a quick survey of the interior.
As she had seen when transformed into a cat, the room wasn't particularly large. A silver-haired girl stood by the edge of the bed, while the owner of this orphanage, Benedictus, lay half-propped on the bed, an unfinished breakfast resting on the nearby table.
—She made an effort to refrain from dwelling on the "Scottish round-faced chicken soup" matter.
Before coming to the orphanage, McGonagall had gathered some information about Elena from the townsfolk.
Unlike most orphans, Elena and Benedictus' relationship seemed more like that of a father and daughter, jointly managing this small orphanage.
Hence, after careful consideration, McGonagall thought it best not to exclude Benedictus intentionally and instead converse jointly with Elena about her invitation to Hogwarts.
Benedictus propped himself up on the bed, observing this unexpected visitor with a curious gaze, slightly older than he had estimated. Her coiled black hair tied in a bun, amber-framed glasses matching the typical professorial look, but with the added touch of a traditional Scottish checkered coat.
All in all, she didn't seem like an untrustworthy swindler or a mischief-maker—those at the bottom of society were usually quite perceptive in such matters.
"Professor McGonagall? Please, take a seat." Benedictus wore a contemplative expression. "May I ask which school you represent? As far as I know, Elena hasn't applied to any schools in the Scottish region."
McGonagall glanced at the steaming soup bowl on the wooden table, hesitated for a moment, then pulled a chair closer to the bed, sitting with her back against the table, clearing her throat and smiling at Elena.
"Our school is called Hogwarts, a specialized institution for individuals with magical abilities. I came here today—"
"But—I refuse."
Before McGonagall could finish, Elena shook her head, bluntly interrupting.
"Regarding my future, I have my own plans. Besides, I don't believe I could learn anything from this unknown school. So, please leave."
If this world were indeed from J.K. Rowling's magical universe, McGonagall, known for her dislike of interruptions during class, might have stormed off upon hearing such words.
"Elena!"
Beside her, Benedictus furrowed his brow slightly. Elena rarely exhibited such assertiveness, let alone directly interrupting someone, something he hadn't witnessed in all these years.
"Apologies, she's not usually like this." Benedictus ruffled the silver-haired girl's head, turning to McGonagall with a hint of regret, explaining. Pausing, the man, with a tinge of confusion, continued, "But, forgive me for being frank, I've never heard of Hogwarts until today."
McGonagall smiled casually, replying in a relaxed tone, "Being in the Muggle world—oh, 'Muggle' is what we call ordinary people—It's entirely normal that you haven't heard. Hogwarts is a school for witches and wizards, teaching them how to control and use magic."
A brief silence ensued.
In response, Benedictus seemed visibly stunned, his gaze swiftly shifting between McGonagall's eyes, trying to discern any signs of deceit or jest.
"Ma...Magic?" Benedictus murmured doubtfully, looking at the lady in front of him with skepticism, leaning toward Elena's initial suspicion that this Professor McGonagall might be eccentric.
Sitting upright, Benedictus, preparing to conclude this tiresome farce, politely replied, "You mean sorcery, or something akin to circus performances? I'm sorry, but I lean more toward having Elena attend a regular public school; she deserves a better education."
"No, I mean, magic..." McGonagall shook her head, her smile growing brighter. Retrieving a thick parchment envelope from her coat, she placed it by Benedictus' bedside, glancing at both before slowing her speech. "This is an acceptance letter. After all, we all know you're not an ordinary person. Elena, you're a natural witch, and joining Hogwarts will help you control and utilize your gift."
Maintaining a composed demeanor, Benedictus couldn't conceal his growing astonishment. His pupils involuntarily contracted, gazing incredulously between Elena and McGonagall, unable to voice any questions in the end.
The room momentarily plunged into an eerie silence, the air as if frozen, any heavier breaths seeming capable of shattering the stillness.
Though perhaps only a few seconds had passed, it felt like minutes. Since the previous interruption, Elena, breaking the silence in the room, spoke first—albeit in a manner entirely different from what McGonagall might have expected.
"Oh."
The girl simply responded, lowering her gaze, barely glancing at the envelope she had seen more than a dozen times by the bedside, showing no inclination to reach for it.
"As for being a natural witch? Teachers at the Scottish public school have said more than once that I'm a natural mathematician. But that doesn't mean I will necessarily choose mathematics in the future." The girl answered expressionlessly, seemingly unaffected by McGonagall's words.
After a pause, Elena raised her head, staring directly into McGonagall's eyes for the first time, calmly asking back.
"Excuse me, ma'am. I assume magical school certificates and experiences won't be recognized in the non-magical world—assuming you do issue diplomas."
Regarding the invitation to Hogwarts, from the first owl-delivered letter, Elena had already formulated her thoughts clearly. As a reincarnated individual, she was keenly aware that her future from now on belonged to the Muggle world.
Rather than wasting a full seven years learning spellwork, potions, and other skills, she preferred to deepen her knowledge in macro-investment or business strategy. At least these would guarantee her a comfortable life for the next few decades.
"As a thousand-year-old magical institution, every Hogwarts graduate can find a decent job in the wizarding world. That's something you needn't worry about. It seems you fail to grasp that the wizarding world and the Muggle world are two separate entities. The magical world still has its Ministry, hospitals, schools, and so on."
McGonagall shrugged, understanding the concerns of children from Muggle backgrounds. However, once the explanation of the coexistence of both worlds was made clear, both parents and students could accept this reality.
"It's you who truly doesn't understand. I know far more about the magical world than you might imagine." Elena sighed, unwilling to continue this evasive conversation, her delicate face turning serious, exuding a sudden maturity
.
"Professor McGonagall, if I may, what is your monthly salary at Hogwarts?"
Faced with Elena's abrupt question, McGonagall couldn't help but pause before humbly replying.
"80 Galleons per month, but that's because I also serve as Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress, so naturally, my salary is higher than that of other teachers. Oh, by the way, the currency we wizards use is different from Muggles', so your question isn't entirely meaningful."
Despite her modest tone, both Benedictus and Elena sensed a hidden pride beneath her words. Clearly, McGonagall was quite content with her compensation.
"Of course, it's meaningful. As long as it exists in human society, all that's required is a simple purchasing power conversion to understand all currency systems—wizards also need to purchase livestock, food, and light industrial goods from us, right?"
Upon hearing this response, Elena's eyebrows raised slightly, a glint of excitement shining in her eyes. Even through her voice alone, one could sense the girl's strong sense of confidence, as if a monarch had returned to rule her domain—after all, finance was her expertise from her past life.
The silver-haired girl clasped her hands, rhythmically tapping her index fingers against each other, softly saying, "If I'm not mistaken, 1 Galleon equals 17 Sickles equals 493 Knuts. As far as I know, one pound can buy 4 pounds of potatoes. So, Professor, your job at Hogwarts, which seems decent in the magical world, amounts to around 400 pounds a month—If you find potatoes insufficient for currency conversion, it can also be compared to beef, toothpaste, glass, toilet lids..."
At this point, Elena paused, tilting her head slightly, exchanging a glance with Benedictus, both expressions displaying a hint of amusement and oddity.
"What are you trying to say?" McGonagall furrowed her brow, sensing an uncomfortable atmosphere beginning to spread in the air.
The girl lifted her head, her snowy neck resembling a proud swan, a fleeting moment where McGonagall even heard a faint, scornful chuckle.
"In this country, I mean, your so-called Muggle government, an average worker earns about a hundred pounds per week, while a formal university professor earns..."
Elena intentionally paused, waiting until McGonagall's eyes seemed bewildered before swaying her silver hair, softly continuing.
"1959 pounds."
"So what exactly are you trying to say?!"
McGonagall's body involuntarily straightened from the chair, her tone rising, displaying evident displeasure.
Elena's lips curled slightly. Every reaction fell exactly as she had anticipated—the first step of a convincing argument was to disrupt the opponent's rhythm with curiosity, leading the conversation into her familiar territory, and then, relying on her extensive experience, claim victory.