"That would be..."
Dumbledore coughed. "I apologise, Vincent. You were — not quite yourself at the time, and I accidentally hurt you trying to restrain you."
Healer Miriam fixed him with a look. "Headmaster Dumbledore. Were you trying to kill him?"
(T/N: She is Miriam Strout btw)
Dumbledore bore it with quiet resignation. He said nothing about the iron-body jinx Vincent had deflected back onto himself, only offered a pained: "I'm very sorry."
Once the healer had seen to his nose, Vincent asked:
"Madam Miriam, are there any other tests I should have done?"
She shook her head. "No. Truthfully, St. Mungo's has never had a particularly good solution for memory-related damage — if we did, the Longbottoms wouldn't have been here for the past decade. If your amnesia is also a result of the Cruciatus, I'm afraid there's little we can offer for now."
Dumbledore hesitated. "Miriam — the dark circles, the physical weakness. Are those also from the... amnesia?"
"Oh, those are just because he's in poor shape."
Vincent stared at the ceiling. Madam, your voice carries remarkably well.
"Ahem. Well. Let me write you up something to help with recovery."
Vincent arranged his face into something suitably dejected. "Alright. Thank you."
He managed a thin smile in Dumbledore's direction. "Professor — I expect Hogwarts wouldn't want a professor who might lose his memory at any given moment, would they?"
It wasn't entirely deflection. He was genuinely reconsidering the whole Hogwarts plan. If Bernadette had guessed that their swaps might not be a one-time event, he'd arrived at the same conclusion.
Think about it — this time she'd managed to get into a fight with Dumbledore. Next time it could be a dark wizard. An Auror. Even a Muggle police officer. And those people wouldn't be nearly as restrained as the old man had been.
And then there was the question nobody had an answer to: if her soul died inside his body during a swap, what happened to him on the other side? Was he stranded permanently, or would he come back after three days — and then die too?
The most urgent problem, before the next swap, was finding some way to actually communicate with her. Get the important things said. That was the responsible thing — for both their lives.
He'd thought of leaving a message too. Easy enough — a video recording would do it. But the same problem applied in reverse: just as he couldn't make sense of her world's language, she apparently couldn't understand English. Recording something she couldn't follow was pointless.
Was there any spell that could let someone understand a foreign language, even briefly?
"I think—"
After a moment's thought, Dumbledore spoke. "As long as your... amnesia... doesn't recur too frequently, it need not necessarily affect your ability to teach at Hogwarts. What concerns me more is how you intend to actually run the class. Muggle Studies has, for many years now, been one of the least popular electives — in the same league as Divination."
Vincent thought it over. "Is that because none of the professors who've taught it have ever actually lived among Muggles?"
"More or less." A quiet sigh. "Frankly, it's a state of affairs I find deeply frustrating. But from where I stand, I'm not sure I have the standing to reproach anyone else — I haven't immersed myself in the Muggle world for a very long time either."
"Some would call it the innate arrogance of wizardkind. I think it's more that wizards are like insects trapped in amber — clinging to old rules, closed off from anything new, frightened of change, hoping the world will simply stay the same forever." He shook his head slightly, something distant and tired in his eyes.
"But long ago, I — and someone else — came to understand that this was impossible. While wizards sat comfortably in their unchanging old world, Muggles were developing at a pace none of us could have imagined. In only a few years, they could remake everything."
He looked at Vincent with something close to hope. "So tell me, Vincent — what change do you intend to bring to Muggle Studies?"
Ah.
How did the conversation get this weighty all of a sudden. I only wanted access to the library.
Still, this fell squarely within the scope of an interview question, and he'd prepared for it. He straightened slightly, and spoke with genuine conviction:
"Professor, I intend to bring Muggle history, culture, and technology into the curriculum in full. Before young witches and wizards have had the chance to calcify their thinking, I want to give them the opportunity to see and experience the Muggle world for themselves."
His expression was earnest, his eyes steady. "Words can only do so much. Young witches and wizards grow up steeped in the assumption that they're above all of it. The only way to genuinely shift that is to have them approach Muggles as equals — not from the outside looking down. That has to come from experience."
"I believe that once they actually understand the Muggle world, they'll find that Muggles and wizards aren't so different — each with their own strengths. That understanding, carried into adulthood, is what gradually changes how the wizarding community as a whole sees Muggles. Something more like coexistence, in time."
Dumbledore's expression shifted. "I must be honest with you, Vincent — some of what you're describing could be considered quite dangerous. It may even brush up against the Statute of Secrecy."
"With respect, Professor — I'm only helping children understand what's on the other side of the wall. Even setting aside any larger ambitions, a better understanding of Muggle life would surely help future witches and wizards pass as Muggles more convincingly. That seems like it would serve the Statute, not undermine it."
He tapped the ring on his finger, produced a thick sheaf of parchment and several books, and set them in front of Dumbledore. "These are the detailed plans I've drawn up for the course — including the texts I intend to use. Have a look."
Dumbledore took them and flipped through. "Ah — you're planning to use your own published works as course materials. I've read these, actually. Quite interesting."
"Those are observations and thoughts from the years I spent living among Muggles. I know some of the ideas are naive. Possibly impractical. But I do believe most of them are worth trying."
The old man smiled. "Naivety is often where innovation begins. Impractical ideas tend to carry a seed of something real. I'll read through all of this properly and get back to you as soon as I can."
To be continued...