Job Interview

Rosemerta's Tavern, Hogsmeade, The Wizarding World

September 1st​, 1972

Smoothing out his vest as he waited in the room one Albus Dumbledore had requested for their interview, he drummed his finger on the armrest of the hidden away room where they'd converse. He was in his nicest outfit, which wasn't to say much considering everything he wore was made of the same materials produced by his shadow. He rarely ever changed, not needing to void himself, nor did he sweat or produce foul odors. Magic removed the grime and dust of living from his skin and clothes, leaving him utterly pristine. He'd gone ahead and prepared intently for this interview, although not in the way one might think.

His skin was natural, with visible pores. His bone structure was more natural and human, and his flesh had a rosy hue. He had calloused on his hands from wielding swords and polearms during his spars, and he had a visible scar along his neck, and a few smaller ones on his hands. He Eldritch powers were on lock, his eyes, prismatic purple flecked with all manner of impossible colors that the human mind naturally ignored, were instead a steady royal purple eye color. Hidden under his clothing, along his skin, were shifting glyphs of Eldritch importance that were designed to hide every aspect of his true nature, or the association thereof through mystical means.

If a shop owner on Diagon street could see through his patron's guise, even if not able to divine what he truly was, then the most powerful and acclaimed Wizard this half of the world was likely in the figures able to do just the same. It was thus he'd taken great strides to hide his nature, and he suspected this interview was going to be about his history and past.

Or the lack thereof.

He truthfully didn't know what to say regarding that. He could make up some wild lie, state he was some secretive agent, or a time traveler, or some number of other things. But, in all honesty, he'd likely just stick to a simple and vague answer.

The door to his room opened, and in came a man wearing garish robes. He couldn't help a frown at the man's sense of fashion, for what he'd normally be in support of such 'on-fleak' robes, the clashing colors didn't appease the eye. The bright golden hue of the robes clashed horribly with the velvet pink and the swirling twirls of vibrant purple. It was just too bright.

He couldn't help himself but comment, "Is your fashion sense truly so horrible, or is there something I'm missing?" He questioned.

He caught the man freeze, his jovial smile changing to abject surprise, then a jolly laugh. "I can count the number of people who dare say such a thing to my face on one hand, Mr. Chaoskampf."

"Please, call me Ebon, Mr. Dumbledore."

The elderly, but not old, Wizard chuckled, "It has been quite some time since someone has called me a Mister. They usually use my titles."

Ebon smiled back, gesturing for the man to take a seat, to which he did. "Well, I'm not a member of your staff just yet, so it'll have to wait until then. I'm also new to Britain itself, and using your political titles seemed out of style for this meeting unrelated to such things."

The man's eyes twinkled, "Indeed." He then softly clapped, "Now, you wish to join the staff of Hogwarts, specifically the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, correct?"

"That would be correct." Ebon confirmed.

"And you are aware of the rumors of there being a curse on the position?" Dumbledore asked.

"I do. While I'm sure you might hear this repeatedly, but I feel confident in my capabilities to detect the curse; and if not, then perhaps I am due a humbling." Ebon shrugged. It'd be one of the first things he'd like to look at, as if he was to take this job, he'd like to do it right.

Dumbledore sighed, "Sadly, you would be incorrect. You are the second person to take the curse seriously since it's been rumored to have been placed. Most believe that it's just a myth or rumor; others believe that I would never allow such a thing happen within Hogwarts." The man grimaced, "Sadly, no man is an island, and I've been incapable of determining if the position is truly cursed, outside of observed phenomena, of course."

"Frightening." Ebon stated, despite not feeling so. The man before him was likely knowledgeable and skilled, holding decades of experience within magic, esoteric and exotic alike, but before him he was still nought but a mortal. Ebon with his Eldritch nature would have greater chances detecting something attempting to manipulate him like a mere curse. He'd need to experience it to get a feel for it, of course, and to do that he'd need to enter Hogwarts. For all he knew, it really was a hoax, and the school was just unlucky or poor at hiring people. "But my position stands. Not all experience horrific fates or ends, and some merely leave school for other means. The curse seems to act to remove people from its position, possibly escalating its means, or manipulating events for that to happen. Either way, I'll never know until I'm there to experience it."

Dumbledore nodded approvingly, "Wonderful. Moving on, you've sent in the requested documents to the School Board, and they've only noted your lack of educational history." The man seemed concerned, peering over his spectacles at Ebon.

Ebon shrugged, "I never graduated, in truth. I studied magic on my lonesome, and Britian was my first experience in learning formal magics."

Dumbledore coughed, "…You have five Masteries, Mr. Chaoskampf."

"Well, I've been around, mainly North America, but well, needed to get away from there." He remembered his old life and grimaced, "Bad memories, y'know? Booked it to Diagon with a small fortune, my dad's clothes, and never looked back. Found myself in Britain after I took a portkey from some shady individual in exchange for some gold and made myself a life here." Rubbing the back of his neck, he 'guiltily' admitted, "I've always been smart, and I just picked up on things, studied the criterion, then five-months in I figured I was ready to graduate."

Dumbledore gave a bewildered smile, "Masteries aren't graduation…" He uttered distantly, at a loss for words.

"Well, they were for me." Ebon shrugged. "I mean, if you're worried about my credentials, I don't really know what to tell you? I just don't have those papers."

The man shook his head, "Its no issue. Now, I remember mentioning to bring a rough plan for a potential curriculum. Hogwarts prides itself on its unique professors and allows them creative means of teaching, and I'd so love to pick your mind for how you're looking to approach this." The educator gave a guileless and excited smile, with Ebon mirroring it with a bit less passion and enthusiasm.

Ebon pulled from his vest a thick envelope of files and papers, and soon the two started to talk over his teaching plans. Dumbledore and Ebon spent the remaining three hours coasting over each year, summarizing each semester, pulling out spell lists, recommending spell books, and of course the required books for each year.

Dumbledore scratched his beard, staring down at the two books for the First Years, which were understandably basic, but rather dense. It'd give them an excellent foundation for future years, so he couldn't complain. If anything, Mr. Chaoskampf proved to be a prepared and effective teacher. This pattern continued, only for Dumbledore to pause at the proposed NEWTs class book requirements.

Compendium of Battle Magics, by Ebon Chaoskampf*

Physical Education, by Ebon Chaoskampf*

Ritualized Destruction, by Ebon Chaoskampf*

Modernized War Magics, by Ebon Chaoskampf*

Arsenal of Spells, by Ebon Chaoskampf*

How To Not Die, by Ebon Chaoskampf*

The Magic of First Aid, by Ebon Chaoskampf*

The Dark Arts, by Drakholm Blasphomor*

*All Books will be provided by the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Free of Charge.

"You've written your own books for the NEWTs course?" Dumbledore asked, a bit worried about the titles of the books.

Ebon nodded, "Well, I had the time while waiting for the interview, and after I completed a certain project of mine, I decided to do some productive preparation."

"Could you please expand on some of these books, their titles are a bit…"

"They're everything the title says." Ebon stated, "Compendium of Battle Magics is just that; a list of spells, how to cast them, and their arithmetic formulas useful on a field of battle. It's divided into chapters of battlegrounds, so there's field battles, urban battle grounds, long-range engagements, defensive employments, sapping defensive emplacements and ward structures; the whole nine yards."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, "And The Dark Arts?" He questioned.

Ebon raised an eyebrow, "Well, they're The Dark Arts. The book isn't technically illegal because every spell is custom made, and the Ministry would need to verify if each spell were a Dark spell, which would require testing or some crime being committed with the spell, which is a bureaucratic process. I can't get arrested for creating such magic, because the book wasn't technically written by me," Here the man winked exaggeratedly, "By and large the book is a dissection of common components of Dark magic, the specific arithmancy needed to successfully channel and exploit the user's emotional input into the spell which gives it that bit of power beyond most spells. The NEWTs students will be of the sort that I'm sure will already know some amount of Dark Magic but understanding the field in its entirety; including the rather addictive and negative psychological effects by getting down into the guts of the magic would be, in my view, enlightening."

Dumbledore leaned back, nodding along as Ebon spoke. "The book will be restricted to those students." He eventually decided, staring at Ebon with an intent gaze.

The man laughed, "Don't worry, I'm not about to be giving hormonal teenagers weapons of war. All of these books are for my NEWTs class, who are likely going into professions that require or would be of great benefit to learn these magicks." Ebon grew considering, "Although I might knock down Physical Education, Arsenal of Spells, How To Not Die, and The Magic of First Aid to the Seventh Years."

Dumbledore smiled, "Now those are some good titles. I'd like to have copies of all of the books sent to me via Owl, if you would."

"Of course." Ebon nodded.

Dumbledore groaned as he stood, bones popping, "Now, this has dragged along. It's been a pleasure meeting with you Ebon, and know that your brilliance and drive have placed you at the top of my list."

The two shook hands, with Dumbledore's phoenix appearing and flashing the man to his office. Smoothing his vest, Ebon grinned and in a fractal explosion of shattered reality, he vanished too.