Vincent blinked and took them automatically. The three titles were:
On the Relationship Between Muggles and WizardsA History of MugglesThe "Magic" of Muggles
All three listed the author as Vincent Moriarty. The revised editions credited Dumbledore.
"I'm sorry, Professor — are these…"
Dumbledore stroked his long silver beard with a smile. "Vincent… well, I suppose I should call you Professor Klein now. Though, personally, I would suggest 'Professor Vincent' — you know how English speakers tend to struggle with the pronunciation of 'Klein.'"
Vincent stared. "You mean the interview…"
"That's right. You are now Hogwarts's Muggle Studies professor."
He paused, then continued: "However, I'd like this school year to see you and Charity sharing the role. Charity will handle Years Four through Seven. You'll take Years One through Three."
"Then — you've agreed to moving the course to first year?"
Dumbledore gave a small nod. "Yes. As you wrote in your curriculum plan — certain things must be built from the very beginning."
Vincent looked down at the three books. "And these…"
"I must apologise, Vincent. Please forgive my presumption." A look of genuine regret crossed Dumbledore's face. "I was very taken with your plan and your textbook — but there were parts that I felt were, perhaps, slightly… not quite right, for various reasons. So I took the liberty of making some cuts before having Flourish and Blotts print them."
He met Vincent's eyes and apologised again: "Forgive me, Vincent."
"No, Professor — I think your judgement was correct."
Vincent said it directly and without hesitation. "When I was preparing the curriculum, I was thinking purely in terms of Muggle Studies as a subject. But I understand that this ultimately concerns the relationship between Muggles and wizards. I trust your read of it."
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. The truth was, his reason for cutting certain "bolder" passages was simply to prune back any seeds of dangerous thinking before they could take root — to prevent another Grindelwald from forming in the minds of young students.
"The change to this course was rather abrupt, so the new textbooks will be distributed by you when you give your first lesson. As for the cost of printing them — I've already settled that."
"That's no small expense, Professor."
"Fortunately I've set a little aside over the years. It won't quite bankrupt me." Dumbledore gave a twinkling look. "And even if it did — most of my expenses at Hogwarts can be reimbursed, so I'd survive."
"Listening to you makes me want the headmaster's job myself."
"Oh, you're welcome to it."
Dumbledore smiled. "Though you may have quite a wait. I expect to have another five good years in me — after which the position will almost certainly go to Minerva. Say she serves thirty years — so at the earliest, you'd be looking at thirty-five years from now."
He started counting on his fingers.
"I was, er… joking."
"As was I." Dumbledore's smile became radiant. "In truth, I believe I have at least another twenty years left."
If only. By the original story, he had fewer than seven.
"In ordinary circumstances, I would have told you all this in the headmaster's office — but here we are." Dumbledore extended his hand. "Welcome, Professor Vincent."
Vincent took the firm, dry hand and shook it.
"The honour is mine."
Dumbledore took his leave, arranging with Vincent to meet at Hogwarts in a few days to complete the formal appointment.
Vincent stayed on, leafing through the edited textbooks. The core content was largely untouched — but every section that had touched on the future relationship between wizards and Muggles had been removed entirely.
Contradictory, that.
Dumbledore's greatest fear was exactly that question. And yet he couldn't bring himself to broach it. But I'm not going to Hogwarts to actually solve it. If that's what you want, so be it.
Vincent then bought a complete set of Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts books, and was debating whether to purchase a spare wand for Bernadette when a figure stepped into his line of sight — a man in his mid-twenties, dressed in black wizarding robes, arms folded, leaning against a wall nearby. He was watching Vincent with a cold smirk.
The man caught his eye and tilted his head, then pushed off the wall and walked away. Vincent didn't hesitate — he followed, quietly.
Not far along, the two of them slipped one after the other into a filthy back alley off Knockturn Alley. As the man turned to face him, Vincent heard footsteps closing in from behind — two middle-aged men in worn, dirty robes, completing a pincer.
Vincent glanced back, and his brow came down. "Henry. I made it clear I was out. What do you want?"
"Out? You think you can just walk away? A Dark wizard for a day is a Dark wizard for life."
Vincent managed not to press a hand to his face.
Dark wizards.
How old are you, and you're still this thick. You know a few Dark wizards, you can cast a few Dark spells, you spend your days ranting about overthrowing the Ministry and pulling small, stupid crimes — and you call that being a Dark wizard?
Answer me one simple question first: how many people did you kill yesterday?
Henry's voice went cold. "Before, you were always hiding away in the Muggle world — no use to us, so I was willing to let it go. Pretend you'd left."
He raised an eyebrow. "But now I hear you've become a Hogwarts professor. Ha. Muggle Studies."
Vincent looked at him, steady. "And?"
"Relax — if you want to play professor, go play professor. We just want money. Hogwarts has all kinds of valuable things — take a little and bring it to us. Simple."
Vincent exhaled. "I really don't fancy trying to steal things right under the nose of the greatest white wizard alive."
"Dumbledore's a relic."
"Then he's the one who should be getting cornered in a dirty back alley. Not me."
Henry: "…"
"If that's all, I'll be going."
At that moment, the two middle-aged wizards suddenly drew their wands. Henry's face changed. "Don't—!!"
Too late.
"Crucio!"
Two bolts of deep red struck Vincent simultaneously. A blood-red shield blazed into existence across his body, deflecting both — but before he could recover, several more curses came flying in, driving him back step by step.
"Stop!!"
Henry bellowed again. Useless.
The two men shrugged him off. "Henry, you talk too much. Our way gets results."
"You—"
Henry went ashen, stumbling backward. "You pair of idiots."
"Oi, East Asian — I'll ask you one last time: are you going to help us steal from Hogwarts or not?"
"Well? Crucio!"
Vincent raised his head slowly. His face broke into a perfectly easy smile. "Didn't Henry ever tell you? I absolutely loathe the Cruciatus Curse."
The next second, the world in both men's vision began to spin — no, not the world. Their heads. The last image they saw was two headless bodies crumpling to the ground.
To be continued…
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