The Headmaster's Office.
Fawkes hung from his perch, asleep.
The portraits on the walls remained silent.
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his half-moon spectacles slipping to the tip of his nose, a thick parchment document spread out before him.
Fudge sat in the armchair on the left, his hands resting on his knees, his fingers constantly rubbing the creases of his trousers.
Douglas sat on the right, his insulated flask on the coffee table, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
The three of them had been talking for nearly an hour.
"So what you mean is,"
Fudge cleared his throat.
"the Ministry of Magic should set up a... training course?"
"An agency."
Douglas corrected the word.
"Not a training course. That sounds like some retired witch teaching people to knit sweaters in her kitchen."
The corner of Fudge's mouth twitched.
"Adult Career Guidance Agency. At least that sounds like the name of a Muggle company."
Douglas repeated it.
"It would operate under the Ministry's name, use Ministry funding, and be open to all adult wizards free of charge."
"Teaching what?"
"Emerging technologies in Muggle society."
Douglas picked up a sheet of parchment covered in writing from the coffee table and handed it to Fudge.
Fudge took it and read down the page, frowning.
"Basic computer operation, typing, sending and receiving email, introductory Muggle accounting, basic knowledge of Muggle law, Muggle job-hunting skills-"
He stopped at the sixth item.
He looked up at Douglas.
"Job-hunting skills?"
"Yes."
Douglas leaned back, tapping his fingers on the lid of his insulated flask.
"How to write a résumé. How to handle an interview. How to explain a seven-year gap in their education to a Muggle employer without revealing that they're a wizard."
Fudge's expression grew complicated.
He laid the sheet on his knees