Fudge looked at Dumbledore.
Then he turned his head and looked at Douglas.
"You mean," Fudge said slowly, "you want Albus to be the headmaster of this employment institute?"
Douglas blinked.
"Personally, I don't think there's anyone better suited to it."
Fudge's brows knitted.
"Why? He's already the headmaster of Hogwarts."
"Precisely because he's the headmaster of Hogwarts."
Douglas raised one finger.
"First, how many years has the professor been headmaster? Decades. Of the adult wizards in the Wizarding World who need to learn these things now, how many were his students? Almost all of them."
He raised a second finger.
"Students naturally trust their headmaster. If a Ministry of Magic bureaucrat who's a stranger to most people stood on a stage and said, 'Come learn computing with me,' nobody would pay him any attention. But if Dumbledore stood there-"
He paused.
"The effect would be completely different."
Fudge's fingers began tapping the armrest again, though there was no telling what he was pondering.
Douglas raised a third finger.
"Second, he has teaching experience. Real teaching experience. Not the sort that involves standing at a podium reading from a script, but the sort that can take an eleven-year-old child who knows nothing and turn them into a qualified wizard in seven years."
"Learning new skills is harder for adults than for children. They have more psychological barriers, more concerns about saving face, more thoughts of 'What's the point of learning this at my age?'"
"In the entire Wizarding World of the United Kingdom, I can't think of another person who could deal with those problems."
He raised a fourth finger.
"Third, and most importantly."
He looked at Fudge.
"Dumbledore went and learned it himself.
"He didn't have someone else learn it for him, and he didn't make a decision after