Inside the cozy warmth of the Three Broomsticks, the professors gathered around their usual table found themselves enveloped in a rare moment of silence. Professors Flitwick and Sprout exchanged glances, neither speaking, as muted voices from outside filtered in.

It was unmistakably Professor McGonagall, reprimanding Fred Weasley.

"Unauthorized spell-casting… dueling without permission… pushing your classmate into a tree… Are you trying to get yourselves expelled? I can hardly imagine what your mother will say when she hears about this…"

“…Detention is a given. And as for Hogsmeade privileges? You can kiss those goodbye. Perhaps some time to reflect will help you learn…”

Moments later, Fred's voice, along with those of his companions, faded into the distance, leaving only the stern, clipped tones of Professor McGonagall, tinged with lingering exasperation.

Oddly enough, her sharp words seemed to bring a collective sigh of relief from the professors at the table.

"Well, at least they won't have the chance to buy more Dungbombs," Professor Vector remarked dryly.

“Too right. Those things are far too potent,” Sprout chimed in with a grimace. “Sometimes not even a Scourgify can get rid of the smell. Even as someone who works with dragon dung regularly for Herbology, I’d rather not have that stench lingering in the corridors.”

“They’ve practically monopolized Hogwarts’ rule-breaking over the years,” Flitwick added with a shake of his head. “If only those two would invest as much effort in their studies, we’d see a sharp decline in incidents.”

“After all, half their free time is spent causing trouble, and the other half serving detention,” he concluded with a touch of exasperation.

Hagrid and Professor Sprout both nodded vigorously, clearly familiar with the Weasley twins’ antics. Even Professor Vector couldn’t help but agree—if not for their penchant for rule-breaking, the Marauder’s Map might never have ended up in his possession.

The shared sentiment brought an air of camaraderie to the table as they fell into lighthearted conversation.

Their gathering at the Three Broomsticks had been McGonagall’s idea—a chance for the staff to bond. After all, aside from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who changed annually, most of the faculty at Hogwarts remained for years, building lasting connections. Even after retiring, they were likely to cross paths in the magical world.

Hogwarts professors, being some of the most skilled wizards and witches in their respective fields, often found inspiration through such exchanges.

At that moment, Rosmerta, the inn’s graceful proprietor, approached their table, her elegant robes flowing around her.

“Here you go, Professor Flitwick—your red currant rum,” she announced with a warm smile, placing a dainty glass before him.

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“Thank you,” Flitwick replied courteously.

“And for Professor Sprout, an Irish whiskey cocktail, Hagrid’s malt mead, and… oh, yes, Professor Vector, your butterbeer,” she added, handing him a wooden tankard with a smile of recognition.

“Thank you,” Vector murmured, nodding politely.

As she prepared to leave, Rosmerta hesitated, her curiosity piqued. Turning back to Vector, she asked, “Professor Vector, might you be Victor Vandeboom? The same Victor Vandeboom who advises Gringotts?”

“Gringotts advisor?” Hagrid, mid-swig of his mead, nearly choked on the question. “I thought Gringotts only employed goblins and the odd Curse-Breaker, like Bill Weasley!”

“They do—usually. But this news broke just today,” Rosmerta confirmed, producing a magazine and flipping to the first page.

The cover bore the title: The Quibbler.

Flitwick and Sprout leaned in curiously to read over her shoulder.

The headline screamed:

“Breaking News: Gringotts Hires Mysterious Wizard Advisor at Astronomical Salary!”

“Oh, I’ve heard of The Quibbler,” Sprout remarked skeptically. “Its articles tend to be… imaginative, to say the least.”

“True,” Rosmerta admitted with a chuckle. “But occasionally, they do stumble upon something real.”

As the professors discussed the publication, Vector glanced over the article, skimming its sensational details.

"On the morning of September 7th, this writer received astonishing news: Gringotts' Diagon Alley branch has added a new position to its internal roster—a ‘Chief Investment Advisor.’ This role oversees market dealings, directly guiding Gringotts’ transactions in the materials and financial markets.

“Sources close to the goblins claim that they place extraordinary trust in this advisor, often delaying major transactions until receiving their input. This marks a sharp departure from the goblins’ traditionally insular practices, and the advisor’s authority reportedly exceeds even the branch manager’s—essentially making them the de facto head of Gringotts operations!

“The advisor’s identity? None other than Hogwarts’ new Divination professor, Victor Vandeboom!”

The article continued, delving into wild speculation:

“With the infamous Sybill Trelawney as his predecessor, the magical community has grown skeptical of Divination. Yet Vandeboom’s reputation among goblins is impeccable, raising suspicions of an elaborate conspiracy. Could it be that Vandeboom is actually a goblin disguised as a wizard? Evidence includes his exceptional rapport with goblins, an allegedly ‘unique’ aura, and, most tellingly, his refusal to deny the claim outright…”

When Sprout and Flitwick finished reading, they exchanged bemused looks, while Hagrid burst into hearty laughter, finding the theory preposterous.

Vector, however, merely raised an eyebrow.

…It was, after all, the first time someone had questioned whether he was human since arriving in this world.

Perhaps it was a testament to a certain “spiritual sensitivity”?

He noted the author’s name—Xenophilius Lovegood—before setting the magazine aside.

As Vector did so, Rosmerta spoke again, her tone curious but kind.

“I remember Lovegood from his Hogwarts days. He often visited the pub to write odd little pieces and would sometimes share them with a girl who accompanied him.”

Turning her attention back to Vector, she added, “Of course, the idea of a goblin-turned-wizard is absurd, but… are you really Gringotts’ advisor?”

“Yes,” Vector replied simply, nodding without hesitation.

His confirmation drew startled glances from the other professors.

As their curiosity deepened, he explained, “The goblins do consult me on market trends—mostly about which magical materials will yield the best profits. I use Divination to guide them toward the most favorable choices.”

“It’s similar to the role of a royal seer or a fairy godmother—using magical insight to mitigate risks. And yes, it was entirely their idea to bring me on board.”

“…Why are you all looking at me like that? Is there a problem?”

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