Vaughn watched them leave, then walked over to Dumbledore's side and mocked him. "Talking about barren Bhutan to a group of wolf children who were previously isolated from the world—I really don't know what you were thinking."
Dumbledore was somewhat vexed as well. "I thought they would be interested in the history of magic. Don't you think Bhutan is mysterious? The birthplace of magic, the most sacred place in the hearts of wizards around the world—"
"But it's still just a bare mountain, with no cities and no magnificent magical shopping streets. I'd wager that if you talked more about Diagon Alley or Zonko's Joke Shop, those wolf children would listen so intently they'd forget to eat and sleep."
"—All right, you have a point."
Old Dumbledore sighed, then looked at Vaughn with a beaming smile. "I thought you'd spend the next few days cooped up in your suite, studying your experimental notes and spells. Go on, did you come to see me for something?"
Vaughn stared into his azure eyes, paused for a moment, and asked, "Isabella already told you?"
"My dear, what exactly are you referring to?" Old Dumbledore blinked.
"Stop pretending. I know Isabella. She's a very goal-oriented person, and she's been currying favor with you all this time. She must have already mentioned that she wants to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. How do you intend to reply?"
He had been found out.
Dumbledore spread his hands and asked with a smile, "And you? Did you come to ask me to reject her?"
In truth, he was already certain of the answer.
For decades, the entire magical world had known that Voldemort had placed a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts post.
No wizard knew how he had accomplished it.