Of course, this was all still planning. The specifics would have to wait until he had his formal appointment in hand and had actually set foot inside Hogwarts.
There was still plenty of time.
"Bernadette didn't mention Dumbledore in her message — which means the old man is still weighing up my application."
Vincent pinched his chin. "There are only two weeks until term begins. Is there still time?"
In the ordinary run of things, Hogwarts students received their booklists for the coming year sometime between mid and late July, and bought everything before term started. It was already late August. Most students would have purchased their books weeks ago — Muggle Studies included — unless Dumbledore had quietly removed it from the required list after receiving his application.
"Oh — wait."
Vincent gave the back of his head a light tap. "Muggle Studies is a third-year elective. It's not something students sign up for until the term begins. So a slight delay in the appointment probably doesn't create too many problems."
The original host's school memories weren't especially detailed in his mind, and he hadn't paid close attention to these kinds of specifics when he'd read the books in his previous life — this was just a rough impression.
"Though —"
Vincent laced his hands behind his head and settled back on the sofa. "As I had it in my planning, my intention was to turn Muggle Studies into a compulsory subject from first year onward."
Shaping young minds worked best early, especially before their views of the world had fully formed. By the time children reached third year, trying to change their inherited attitudes toward Muggles was considerably harder.
"I can only hope the old man sees it my way."
There were several reasons Vincent had chosen Muggle Studies. The first: as someone who had come from the "future" — and from the Muggle world — he understood ordinary people and their world better than anyone else here. He was genuinely suited for it.
The second: the current Muggle Studies professor, Charity Burbage, could be replaced. As Vincent had said to Dumbledore at their meeting — a Muggle Studies professor who had barely ever set foot in the Muggle world was, frankly, absurd.
The third: this course, which seemed unremarkable in the original story, was anything but insignificant to Dumbledore. The reason he had once aligned with Grindelwald, pursuing what they called the "greater good," was rooted in his fears about the coming clash between wizards and Muggles.
Though Dumbledore had long since parted ways with Grindelwald, that underlying dread had never left him — if anything, it had deepened over the years.
And now, Vincent's Muggle Studies curriculum didn't solve those fears, but it offered a direction, a framework for thinking. That ought to be enough for Dumbledore to take it seriously — seriously enough to give Vincent a chance.
He reached for the cup of wolfberry tea on the side table, took a long sip, and shifted into a more comfortable position on the sofa. He closed his eyes. "A short rest first."
He had grown used to the body's weakness — but three days of constant upheaval, then switching back, had left him feeling oddly unmoored.
"Hm?"
He opened his eyes again and looked at the thermos flask, struck by a sudden idle thought. I've been drinking out of the same cup as Bernadette. Does that count as an indirect kiss?
Ha. An indirect kiss with yourself. That was quite something.
The next morning, Vincent woke up and drank a large cup of warm tea straight away, which helped considerably — mostly in his head. He'd been planning to fry up some eggs and sausages for breakfast, then remembered he'd cleared out the fridge yesterday.
Fair enough. He was heading to Diagon Alley anyway, and it had been a while since he'd sat in the Leaky Cauldron.
He slid his wand out of the ring with the Undetectable Extension Charm on it, twisted on the spot, and vanished — reappearing inside the cramped, grimy pub.
His Apparition was well-practised by now, the cast kept as quiet as he could manage, but it still raised a sharp gust that sent the nearby tables and chairs rocking. Fortunately the pub was nearly empty.
"Oh, a nice clean Apparition."
The speaker was Tom the innkeeper, standing behind the bar — almost completely bald, wrinkled as a walnut.
"Thank you."
"Ha, you don't actually think I was complimenting you, do you, Vincent? Want me to give you an 'O'?"
"That'd be wonderful. You know I never sat my O.W.L.s." Vincent smiled and sat himself down at the nearest table without much concern for the state of the chairs. "Ham roll and a Butterbeer, please."
Tom's expression eased slightly. "Hold on."
"Tom — isn't your granddaughter starting Hogwarts this year?"
"That's right." A smile spread over his face. "Hannah is beyond excited. She keeps asking me what the Sorting is like."
"I imagine you haven't told her."
"Of course not." Tom said it with the utmost gravity. "Keeping the method of the Hogwarts Sorting hidden from new students is every wizard's solemn duty and responsibility."
He got to the last word and couldn't suppress the grin any longer. "Ha! Ha ha ha ha."
Vincent pointed at him. "You're terrible."
"Don't tell me you never did the same."
"Me?" He shrugged. "Who knows. That was so long ago. I've forgotten all about it."
Thwap. Tom set the food and drink in front of him and gave his shoulder a pat. "Probably for the best."
The Leaky Cauldron was not, in good conscience, a place anyone could call inviting — but the landlord's culinary magic was genuinely good, as it had been for generations. The Hufflepuff inheritance, through and through.
After breakfast, Vincent made his way through the bar to the back courtyard — the one with the rubbish bins against the wall — tapped the correct sequence of bricks with his wand, and stepped through into Diagon Alley.
It was all exactly as he remembered from the first time he'd come: the colour and the noise, the same as always, as if nothing had shifted. This place was like a small portrait of the wizarding world — almost untouched for centuries.
No wonder Dumbledore and Grindelwald had once worried about the future of wizards and Muggles alike.
Vincent walked straight to his destination: Flourish and Blotts. He was here to buy some books on Charms and spellwork for Bernadette to work through on her own during the next exchange.
He had just reached the doorway when a familiar tall figure caught his eye — speaking with the bookshop owner, half-moon spectacles on, blue eyes intent and serious.
"Professor — what brings you here?"
Dumbledore turned, and his expression warmed. "Good morning, Vincent." He held out three books. "Come and have a look at your new Muggle Studies textbooks."
To be continued…