Once the outline was settled, filling in the details was easy.
A Legend—the title alone meant the story could hardly be ordinary.
Andrew actually thought he had exaggerated enough. The Hogwarts Library was enormous. Forget mastering everything in it—how many people could even claim to have read most of the books on a single subject?
If Andrew wrote that Dumbledore spent every day in the library, studied for seven whole years, and finally worked his way into becoming a legend, there would be no need to wonder what happened next. No owl would bother flying out with a rejection. The manuscript would simply vanish without a trace.
That would still be an exaggeration, but no one would bother doing the math. The editor would only think Andrew had wasted his valuable time.
Dumbledore was supposed to finish every book worth reading in the library during his first year, then dominate his own house and crush the others. Reading an entire library in a year was as perfect a premise as a suit of armor made from flimsy fabric that somehow offered unmatched protection.
If a legendary tale meant sitting in a library for seven years, both Andrew and the editor would starve. Who would want to read that?
Once Andrew had settled on Peeves, a treasure of a character who could boost a Hogwarts story's credibility by seventy percent, his work flew along. He did not even get writer's block. All he had to do was follow the outline, adding dialogue and weaving in scenes.
As he happily rushed to finish the manuscript, the holiday sped by. Before long, it was the day before Christmas.
Andrew had not made any preparations for the holiday. Just as he was about to head to Professor McGonagall's office and continue familiarizing himself with