Dumbledore took a thoughtful sip of tea before continuing,
"Whether it's the Muggle or wizarding edition, the theories in your books are truly impressive.
It's clear you weren't just spinning tales—some of the spells you described, I've even tested a few myself, and, remarkably, they work.
What you wrote in the wizarding edition—
'Imagination is more important than magic!'
'The essence of spellcasting is the heart reshaping the world!'
I couldn't agree more. It's astonishing that you understood such truths when you were still a child..."
A sudden realization dawned on Douglas Holmes. Perhaps these insights were exactly why he'd been considered for the job.
But then Dumbledore changed course, his gaze sharpening.
"So, Douglas, I'm curious—why did you choose to teach at Hogwarts?
Or, more specifically, why Defence Against the Dark Arts?
From your school days and after reading your books, I'd have thought Charms would suit you even better.
Of course, Filius has no intention of retiring just yet.
I still remember him praising you for modifying the Lumos charm into a spell that could counter dark magic..."
He paused, eyes fixed on Douglas.
Douglas shrugged, feigning ease.
"To be honest, Headmaster, the outside world is a mess. Whether Muggle or magical, people are always scheming, always looking for an angle.
And in the magical world, the stakes are even higher—and that's poison for a writer like me.
It makes me nostalgic for my Hogwarts days.
Hogwarts is like an ivory tower—though, I suppose, Headmaster, that's a Muggle phrase with a new meaning these days, quite different from the biblical sense."
He caught Dumbledore's flicker of confusion and offered a gentler explanation.
"In my eyes, Hogwarts is a kind of real-world utopia. Sure, there's drama, but, overall, people here are… well, simpler.
Of course, there's another main reason—
I've hit a wall with my writing."
Dumbledore frowned, puzzled.
Douglas gave a sheepish smile.
"Professor, since you've read Master of All Professions, you probably noticed it stopped updating eight months ago—both in the magical and Muggle worlds.
The truth is, I've run out of material. Most of what I used came from the Muggle world.
You know I started writing in my first year, and that was only possible thanks to the Hogwarts library...
But now, with the updates stalled for so long, my readers—both magical and Muggle—are growing restless.
I've even heard that some extreme fans are out there trying to track me down—er, I mean, they're searching for me everywhere..."
Dumbledore chuckled, eyes twinkling with shared understanding.
"I do understand. I have a few… enthusiastic fans myself. Some send me the strangest—and occasionally dangerous—things, just to check if I've grown too old to dodge them.
But don't worry, Douglas. Aside from a handful of friends who know you well, I doubt anyone else could connect you to those bestsellers."
He winked, a touch of mischief in his expression.
But then, that scrutinizing gaze returned, and Douglas felt a fresh wave of unease.
Had he said something wrong? Or had his mere presence upset some secret plan of the headmaster's?
Dumbledore soon gave voice to his real concern.
"Mr. Holmes, if I recall, you and Quirinus were rather close during your school days?"
Douglas paused, searching his memory—Dumbledore must mean Professor Quirinus Quirrell, who'd taught Muggle Studies.
At first, Douglas had suspected he might be the same Quirrell who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts in Harry Potter's first year.
But Quirinus had been one of Hogwarts' most promising graduates, offered a teaching post straight after graduation, and even rumored to be the next Head of Ravenclaw.
He was nothing like the stammering, garlic-wreathed Quirrell who'd consorted with a dying Voldemort.
Surely, it was just a coincidence of names.
Still, Quirinus had been a fine teacher—knowledgeable, personable, fond of travel. They'd kept in touch after graduation, right up until two years ago, when Quirinus announced he'd be taking a sabbatical in Albania. After that, they lost contact.
Seeing Dumbledore's expression, Douglas couldn't help but worry—had something happened to him?
"Well, Professor, as you know, I'm Muggle-born, so I always had a bit of an edge in Quirinus's classes."
Dumbledore nodded.
"And is that why you applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?"
"…?"
Douglas was baffled—what did his application have to do with Quirinus?
Noticing his confusion, Dumbledore's stern demeanor softened.
He explained, "Last year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was Quirinus. And he…"
"What?!"
Douglas was floored. He'd always assumed the Quirrell who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts was someone Dumbledore had recruited from outside.
Merlin's threadbare pants—he really hadn't known! Maybe the original books mentioned it, but it had been over thirty years since he'd last read them.
Most of the details had faded.
But that hardly mattered now.
From Dumbledore's tone, it was clear he suspected Douglas might be another of Voldemort's pawns.
And if there was one thing Dumbledore was known for, it was treating even the faintest suspicion as a potential threat to Harry.
Was he about to become a mid-boss on the Chosen One's path?
What now? What now? Merlin help him—he just wanted to unlock his system, not play villain to a twelve-year-old!
He forced himself to calm down, gathering his thoughts.
"Professor, the last time I spoke to Quirinus was over two years ago. He told me he was taking a year off to travel in Albania.
We haven't spoken since.
I had no idea he'd returned to England, let alone that he was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Actually, my editor mentioned that last year's professor was someone who wore a garlic-scented turban and stuttered constantly!
That doesn't sound much like the Quirinus I knew...
Professor, if it's not too much to ask—could you tell me what happened? And where is he now?
Is this position really cursed?"
He'd tried to seize the initiative, but his confusion was genuine.
He simply couldn't believe the two Quirrells were the same person.
He needed answers.
He remembered the broad strokes of the story, but since arriving at Hogwarts, he'd never trusted that his presence—his butterfly wings—hadn't changed something.
Dumbledore seemed surprised by the directness of the question about the curse, and he looked momentarily troubled.
If he'd misjudged Douglas, and the curse rumor scared him off, he'd have to start the search for a new professor all over again.
With a sigh, Dumbledore began to recount the main events of the previous year, explaining what had happened to Professor Quirrell.
"Douglas, you must understand—delving into dark magic is perilous. It can subtly, insidiously, warp a person's mind..."
When he mentioned Voldemort living on the back of Quirrell's head, Dumbledore watched Douglas carefully, but saw no panic—just a thoughtful, steady gaze. That alone put the headmaster at ease.
Meanwhile, Douglas kept up a running commentary, chiming in at the right moments:
"Whoa!—That's possible?"
"Oi!—That's just nonsense!"
"Heh!—Well, that's where he went wrong!"
"Blimey!—Never heard of that one!"
"Would you look at this mess!"
"Who'd have thought!"
Judging by Dumbledore's faint smile, at least his words weren't falling on deaf ears.
When the story was done, Douglas fell silent, lost in thought.
He was no longer just a Muggle reader observing from the outside—he was part of this world now.
He noticed details that even Dumbledore might have missed.
But now, he hesitated. Should he share his insights? If he spoke up, would it seem like he was defending Quirrell? Worse, would he be branded a sympathizer—marked for the Order of the Phoenix's watch list?
Perhaps sensing his internal struggle, Dumbledore spoke gently,
"Mr. Holmes, is there something troubling you? Or is there something you'd like to say?"
Douglas glanced at him, choosing his words with care.
"Professor, what I'm about to say is only speculation based on your account—not my personal stance."
Dumbledore popped a pastry into his mouth and nodded playfully, encouraging him to continue.
The gesture didn't completely lower Douglas's guard, but he understood the headmaster's goodwill.
So, he voiced his doubts at last.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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