Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster's Office
Dumbledore sat in his chair, holding a mirror, chatting warmly with a child.
Occasionally, laughter rang out from the mirror, as though the child found Dumbledore's dry humor amusing.
After a while, a voice called out from the mirror, "Annie, time to eat!" The girl in the mirror quickly said goodbye and disappeared.
Dumbledore set down the mirror, glancing at the clock. It was already mealtime.
Before him stood a claw-footed desk, and behind his chair was a shelf holding a tattered wizard's hat.
"Dumbledore, what do you think of the lyrics I just came up with?" the Sorting Hat asked, twisting its brim and splitting open to reveal a jagged seam.
"They're excellent as always. The students will love them!" Dumbledore replied.
"But you didn't even listen!" the Sorting Hat exclaimed in a sharp tone, clearly offended.
"You were too busy chatting with that little girl. Is she really more interesting than I am?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. That wasn't even a question—the answer was obvious.
The Sorting Hat seemed oblivious to its own shortcomings. Mumbling in dissatisfaction, it pressed on, "Did you visit Nurmengard?"
Dumbledore's mood darkened immediately. After a brief silence, he shook his head. "No, I didn't."
"Why not? Weren't you attending the International Confederation of Wizards' conference? It was held in Austria, so close to the castle!"
Dumbledore didn't respond.
"He's been writing to you, saying he's unwell and wants to see you," the Sorting Hat persisted, prying.
Finally, Dumbledore looked up, his voice heavy with age. "What would I even say if I saw him?"
"Talk about recent events, catch up, share how your bodies—uh, lives—are holding up," the hat suggested, smirking.
"We've already discussed those things in our letters," Dumbledore said, casting a glance at a locked cabinet containing a stack of letters from Nurmengard.
"Writing and meeting face-to-face are entirely different," the Sorting Hat said in a sage-like tone, as if it had once experienced a heartfelt rural romance with a lady's hat.
Dumbledore murmured, "The time difference caused by the delay between correspondence is probably only comparable to the microsecond difference in the germinative time of natural yeast—"
The Sorting Hat interrupted, "If communication becomes too efficient, reducing the need for waiting and longing, the value of certain sentiments might diminish without notice.
"And Dumbledore, I've read 84, Charing Cross Road too."
"Oh? Who gave it to you?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"William, as a Christmas gift. That boy has taste—it's the first gift I've received from someone other than you.
"I remember his home is near Charing Cross Road, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's a lovely street. I visited once. But William hasn't been living there recently; he bought a house in a wizarding village," Dumbledore replied, clearly relieved to shift the topic away from Grindelwald.
At that moment, a knock came at the door.
Dumbledore looked up and said gently, "Come in."
A tall witch in emerald green robes entered.
The Sorting Hat immediately fell silent, sensing that discussing Dumbledore's personal life in front of Professor McGonagall wasn't appropriate.
"Good afternoon, Minerva," Dumbledore greeted, gesturing for her to sit.
"Good afternoon, Headmaster. I have some matters to discuss. Do you have time?" McGonagall asked.
"All day, of course," Dumbledore replied with a smile, "But no rush, first, would you like some honey butter almonds? Annie sent them as a gift."
With a wave of his hand, a plate of almonds appeared on the desk.
McGonagall politely declined. She was long past the age of indulging in snacks. Instead, she handed Dumbledore a document.
"There are seventeen students applying for financial aid this term. I've reviewed their cases, and the list is here. It just needs your signature."
Dumbledore took the list and carefully read through it.
Hogwarts charged no tuition and even provided scholarships to underprivileged students to ensure they could graduate.
"I think we should increase the scholarship amounts. This is too little," Dumbledore said.
Considering how Lockhart's books required buying seven at once, the current scholarship amount was insufficient for struggling families.
"But the school governors…" McGonagall hesitated, "I'm sure Lucius Malfoy would oppose it."
"Let Severus handle it. He'll find a way to convince them," Dumbledore said confidently.
"Didn't Severus just persuade Malfoy to donate seven Nimbus 2001 broomsticks to the Slytherin team?"
"So generous of him," Dumbledore chuckled. "If I'd known Malfoy was so passionate about education, we wouldn't have needed to replace the brooms so soon…"
McGonagall shot Dumbledore a sharp look, her lips tightening in disapproval.
Last year, Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup, and now Slytherin had upgraded their brooms… Was the Cup destined to become an unattainable dream?
Wait, even the House Cup hadn't gone to Gryffindor in years!
Her lips tightened further.
"Of course, if the governors refuse, we could always send a Niffler to dig for gold worldwide. I hear Newt has plenty of them," Dumbledore added, cracking another of his cold jokes.
McGonagall shivered slightly, as though the chill from the joke had raised goosebumps on her arms.
"Headmaster, there's another matter—about William's schedule," she said, steering the conversation back to practical matters.
"What about it?" Dumbledore's tone remained calm.
"He's chosen all twelve subjects, but there are numerous scheduling conflicts. Should we apply for a Time-Turner for him?" McGonagall asked.
For exceptionally diligent students, Hogwarts could request a Time-Turner from the Ministry of Magic, provided they met strict conditions and pledged never to misuse it.
Of course, such students were exceedingly rare.
Dumbledore folded his hands and shook his head. "No need. William can decide which classes to attend. We'll just test him at the end."
McGonagall hesitated but eventually nodded. "Alright, I suppose you have your reasons, as always."
Dumbledore adjusted his crooked glasses. "Anything else?"
"It's about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The staff wanted me to ask, especially Severus.
"While you were in Austria for the wizarding conference, rumors spread that Lockhart would be the new professor," McGonagall said, frowning.
Lockhart was a walking disaster.
During his student years, he had caused endless trouble, bragging to anyone who'd listen that he'd create a Philosopher's Stone, lead England to victory in the Quidditch World Cup as team captain, and become the youngest Minister for Magic in history.
He had even pestered the school to start a newspaper, purely to see his name in print.
Unsurprisingly, the first Hogwarts paper was quickly shut down when it turned out to be nothing but self-promotion.
When his antics failed to garner attention, he resorted to more dramatic, absurd stunts.
McGonagall couldn't stand the man and dreaded the idea of him teaching at Hogwarts.
Surely, she thought, Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him because of some… questionable deal, as Severus suggested?