The stone gargoyle shifted its heavy body aside, revealing the moving staircase spiraling upward behind it.
Douglas stepped onto the stairs and let them carry him smoothly to the top.
He pushed straight through the oak door to the Headmaster's Office.
A familiar scene greeted him.
The silver magical instruments puffing out wisps of smoke, the portraits of former headmasters, and the peculiar scent of Sherbet Lemons mingled with old parchment in the air.
The place was almost exactly as it had been during his school days, as though time had frozen inside this circular office.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and looked toward the enormous desk.
Dumbledore was bent over a book, utterly absorbed, as though the entire world had vanished, leaving only him and the printed words.
"Ahem!"
Professor McGonagall raised her voice, with a hint of insistence that could not be ignored.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, Mr. Holmes has arrived!"
Only then did Dumbledore slowly raise his head, like a diver just surfacing from the depths.
He reluctantly closed the book, his fingertips gently brushing its cover.
That single glimpse was enough.
Douglas's gaze caught the familiar cover design with perfect precision.
His pupils abruptly contracted.
That book absolutely should not have existed in this world, much less on Albus Dumbledore's desk.
The next second, Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles, and his gaze met Douglas's.
Those blue eyes sparkled with their usual all-seeing light, but at that moment, there also seemed to be a trace of embarrassment at being caught.
A command flashed through Douglas's mind.
Invisible barriers surged up around the edges of his thoughts. His Occlumency was already in effect.
A carefully woven layer of false memories swiftly covered his genuine shock like a curtain.
He had mastered this magic in his third year.
In those days, just after Voldemort's reign of terror, Hogwarts made certain exceptions for gifted younger students when teaching advanced defensive spells.
Dumbledore caught the fleeting stiffness in Douglas's expression.
He coughed awkwardly, trying to break the delicate atmosphere.
"Ahem, Douglas, it's been a long time! This really reminds me of... of the days when we had hot pot together, right here..."
Douglas immediately realized that he had overreacted.
A warm smile quickly spread across his face, as though that moment of shock and suspicion had never happened.
"Aha, Headmaster, it's been a long time! I miss our hot pot meals together terribly too."
He followed Dumbledore's lead, his tone filled with sincere regret.
"Honestly, it's not easy to get Dragon Blood Tofu without side effects out there..."
"Albus!"
Professor McGonagall swept a stern gaze over the pair, interrupting the conversation before it could stray any further.
"I'll get back to work. There are still piles of letters for new students to deal with!"
She turned toward the door, then could not resist looking back to add a warning.
"I must remind you both again: please do not-and I mean absolutely do not-use a cauldron to cook hot pot in the Headmaster's Office!"
Seeing that the two had already huddled together and begun quietly discussing sesame paste recipes, Professor McGonagall felt a headache coming on.
One evening several years earlier, Slytherin's newly appointed Head of House, Severus Snape, had walked in on these two cooking beef tripe in a valuable cauldron, right here.
The young Potions Master's expression had been that of someone witnessing a troll performing ballet.
Professor Snape had nearly handed in his resignation on the spot.
From that day onward, even though Douglas Holmes had earned an O for Outstanding in his Potions O.W.L.s with impeccable technique,
Professor Snape had still refused him entry to his N.E.W.T. class with an attitude that could only be called uncompromising.
Professor McGonagall silently sighed.
If the school really did hire Mr. Holmes...
After the few peaceful years Hogwarts had finally managed to enjoy, things would probably become lively again.
The office door closed softly, and Professor McGonagall's footsteps faded away down the stairs.
Douglas took a pastry box from his leather bag, identical to the one he had given Professor McGonagall.
"Professor, before the interview officially begins, please allow me to offer you a small, insignificant gift."
He handed over the box with Hufflepuff sincerity on his face.
"These are wife cakes I made myself, with candied winter melon, wheat flour, and sesame. They're perfect for a great wizard like you... who needs to replenish his sugar."
Before he had finished speaking, a shrill, cutting cry came from a portrait on the wall.
"Bribery! Blatant bribery! Even a little Hufflepuff brat has learned bad habits!"
It was Phineas Nigellus Black, Hogwarts's least popular former headmaster.
Dumbledore turned and gave the portrait a kindly smile.
"Oh, Phineas, please don't get so worked up. I believe this is merely a graduate's sincere affection and regard for his former headmaster."
He had barely finished when several other headmasters' heads squeezed into the edges of Phineas's frame.
They reached out with their painted hands in a flurry and clamped them directly over Phineas's mouth.
"Douglas, please sit down! Make yourself at home."
Dumbledore winked cheerfully at Douglas, then asked,
"The usual?"
He did not wait for Douglas to answer.
With a flick of his fingers, a steaming cup of black tea and a plate of freshly cut fruit appeared soundlessly on the little table beside Douglas.
Douglas's gaze fell on the fruit, genuine surprise showing in his eyes.
The tea was nothing unusual.
Since graduating, whenever he obtained good tea, he sent some to the Hogwarts professors, including Professor Snape, who had rejected him.
But this fruit...
Bananas, mangoes, and a few lychees.
Their color and delicate fragrance made it clear that they had been picked very recently.
There was only one place in all of Hogwarts where these ordinary fruits, none native to Britain, could grow: the little patch of land at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
He had cleared it with a group of like-minded Hufflepuffs back in his school days.
His Head of House, Professor Sprout, had given him a great deal of help with it.
Some of the ripe fruit went to the professors, the Head Boy and Head Girl, and the prefects.
The rest became the most popular after-dinner dessert in the Hufflepuff Common Room.
The affair had even sparked the famous "Honey Badger Versus the Three Houses" incident.
He had thought that after he left school, the orchard into which they had poured so much sweat would gradually fall into neglect without anyone to tend it.
Dumbledore caught the surprise and nostalgia on Douglas's face.
He smiled, a touch of emotion in his voice.
"We've kept that orchard all this time."
"And of course, it's still called Holmes Orchard. I think that name will live on."
"Hogwarts never forgets a student who has contributed to it."
"You've graduated, but those fruit trees are still very well cared for. Professors and prefects alike take a great interest in the orchard."
Dumbledore paused, a small trace of regret in his eyes.
"Unfortunately, though, no new varieties of fruit have been added since you graduated..."
Douglas nodded and picked up a banana to peel.
The sweet fragrance of its flesh immediately spread through the air, a scent from deep in his memories.
He remarked casually, "It's easy to get used to luxuries, but hard to give them up."
Dumbledore nodded in wholehearted agreement.
He thought of the hot pot he now ate once a week without fail and felt that those words spoke straight to his heart.
As he thought about it, he picked up the book he had just closed on his desk.
The cover faced Douglas.
"Douglas, you've done exceptionally well these past few years."
Dumbledore spoke.
"This 'The Banana-Loving Honey Badger' is you, isn't it?"
"Cough!"
"Cough, cough!"
A mouthful of banana lodged in Douglas's throat, and he nearly sacrificed his life on the spot for the cause of Hogwarts's Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He thumped his chest hard several times before he could breathe properly again.
When he looked up, he met the headmaster's smiling yet utterly certain eyes.
His panic at having his secret exposed lasted only a tenth of a second.
Douglas shrugged, his expression swiftly regaining its composure, even acquiring a perfectly measured hint of helplessness.
"I really didn't expect you to discover that, Headmaster."
He admitted it openly.
"That's right. It's my pen name. But..."
"I must say, you truly are outstanding."
Without waiting for him to finish, Dumbledore gave a gentle flick of his wrist.
Several beautifully bound hardcovers flew from the bookshelf in response, landing neatly on the desk with soft thuds.
"And yet so very discreet."
"Although you emphasize on the title page of every book that it is merely fantasy fiction and has no connection to the real wizarding world,"
"I can tell that you've already come a very long way in ancient magic and in developing a magical system for the future."
Dumbledore lightly tapped the cover of one book, its title stamped in gold: God of Cooking Magic.
"For example, the magical ranks mentioned in this book: beginner, intermediate, advanced, Magic Adept, Magic Grandmaster..."
He looked up at Douglas.
"If I remember the edition correctly, you hadn't even started your second year when you wrote this, had you?"
"Oh, wait, don't be nervous. I don't mean anything else by it."
His finger moved to the next book, Full-Time Magician.
"And this one, with its subdivisions of magical types: fire, earth, lightning, summoning, space..."
Finally, he stopped at Master of All Trades.
"And some of the interesting concepts mentioned here: the Magic Guild, magic potions, magic arrays..."
"Wait... Professor!"
Douglas finally could not help interrupting, no longer able to hide the shock on his face.
"If I remember correctly, none of what you just mentioned appeared in the editions published in the wizarding world!"
"You... you actually follow novels in the Muggle world too?"
The moment he asked the question, Douglas's heart leaped into his throat.
When he discovered how barren this world's fantasy culture was, a bold idea had immediately taken hold of his mind: writing novels.
In the second term of his first year, he had embarked on the arduous road of churning out words.
No computer, no typewriter?
No problem. A Quick-Quotes Quill and a little Transfiguration could make the ink automatically arrange itself into words on parchment.
His writing speed was not limited by technology in the slightest.
And as a Hufflepuff, he was fortunate too.
Mr. Slane, an older Hufflepuff who had just graduated and was working as a trainee editor at Obscurus Books, had unhesitatingly offered a helping hand to this first-year boy he had never met, simply because Douglas was also in Hufflepuff House.
Douglas had not disappointed him.
And so the books Dumbledore had mentioned came into existence in this world.
But to avoid touching the Ministry of Magic's fragile, sensitive nerves, he had divided every book into two editions.
The editions published in the wizarding world kept their settings strictly in line with the existing magical system.
The editions published in the Muggle world let his imagination run wild, incorporating a great many concepts from his previous life.
Otherwise, he would very likely have long since been branded as someone "leaking the secrets of the magical world" and sent to the legendary fifth house of Hogwarts-Azkaban.
He had thought his arrangements were flawless.
Yet the greatest light wizard of the century, Albus Dumbledore, had somehow obtained the Muggle editions and developed a keen interest in their settings.
It sent a chill down Douglas's back.
Dumbledore showed no displeasure at being interrupted.
He even appreciated the caution and vigilance Douglas was displaying.
Of course he had guessed what Douglas was worried about. If those concepts truly spread through the wizarding world, their impact on the existing spell system and social structure would be impossible to predict.
In some respects, the wizarding world was frighteningly conservative.
A sly smile appeared on Dumbledore's face, as though Douglas had finally asked a crucial question.
"Merlin's beard, I must say, it was a most wonderful coincidence."
He leaned back in his chair and began recounting it.
"Last year, a first-year student from a Muggle family came running to me with one of your books and very seriously asked me..."
Dumbledore paused, seemingly savoring the memory.
"Asked me whether I was a Grand Magus."
He looked at Douglas through his Half-moon Spectacles, a little more mischievous teasing in his eyes.
"It was only at that moment that I happened to notice the author of that book..."
"'The Banana-Loving Honey Badger.'"
Douglas marveled inwardly at how incredibly small this world was.
Who would have thought that a young wizard at Hogwarts would go and read a novel about magic in another world published in the Muggle world?
And who would have thought that he would actually take this book to Dumbledore and ask him the same question?
Because many years ago, he too had asked, "Are you a Grand Magus?"
Right here in this office.
Before you continue