What happened to the promised "frank and interesting" remarks?
What about the "substantial gains" from this trip?
And where was the "excellent" she'd been told to expect?
Jane Yu watched as Dumbledore sighed over and over, looking for all the world as if he were being crushed beneath a never-ending stack of burdens.
It seemed that, from Umbridge's "stellar" performance to the Death Eaters' barbed remarks, the Commissioners' reckless bravado, Gemma's snide sarcasm, and finally the twins' blatant exam sabotage, this barrage of blows about teaching quality had left their headmaster—who prided himself on his responsibility to his students—reeling.
But the truth, when it finally lands, always stings. When everyone was pointing fingers at the quality of Defence Against the Dark Arts, it meant there really was a problem.
Even Jane Yu couldn't think of anything to comfort the headmaster, now sunk deep in self-reflection and guilt.
Honestly, for students in her year and above—those who'd survived the parade of "abstract" professors—
It was hard to say, with a straight face, that they'd learned anything truly useful about Defence Against the Dark Arts from anyone except Lupin and Crouch. Perhaps the two-in-one Quirrell could be rated "Outstanding" among the rest, if only because he had a piece of Voldemort inside him.
But at a time when Voldemort was stirring up trouble everywhere, having their key leader lost in self-doubt was far from ideal.
Jane decided it was time to snap him out of it. She racked her brains and forced out some encouragement:
"Er… the teaching staff's quality isn't all that bad, is it? Quirrell… well, we basically got nearly a whole year of personal lessons from Voldemort himself… Crouch, say what you will, but as a Death Eater he was very effective—he actually taught us the Unforgivable Curses… We've had big bosses and little bosses, all sorts. The Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching team has been quite… impressive. The enemy's supreme commander even came to teach us himself—what other students could be so lucky…"
The more she spoke, the more it sounded like the post was the headquarters of the criminal underworld, so her voice trailed off.
Honestly, who'd want that kind of "luck"?
Dumbledore half-collapsed in his armchair, one hand pressed to his stomach, his expression somewhere between agony and disbelief.
It really did sound as if the Defence Against the Dark Arts faculty under his watch was some kind of enemy team-building retreat.
Still, he tried to salvage a shred of dignity:
"Yu, perhaps you don't understand, but even from a professor of questionable morals and conduct, students can still learn something."
Jane Yu really couldn't see it. It all sounded rather forced.
With the lessons in such a state, all anyone learned was how to coast, how to slack off… and maybe a bit of running for fitness.
But Dumbledore looked grave, then managed a faint, earnest smile:
"Let me ask you a few questions, Yu. What did you learn from Professor Quirrell?"
He was sure he knew her answer: Always keep your soul pure—don't let darkness tempt or corrupt you.
But his smile froze awkwardly on his face.
"From Professor Quirrell? Uh… well, I did learn a lot… His story taught me that if someone suddenly acts out of character, wraps their head up, and reeks of garlic, you'd best set them on fire and see what's inside—maybe they've been possessed. And I learned about soul-splitting dark magic that can control other people."
Dumbledore felt something was off, but… she wasn't exactly wrong.
"All right." He nodded, deciding to press on. "What about Lockhart?"
"Lockhart? Keep a silver tongue and master the Memory Charm, and you can go anywhere without fear. Others study magical creatures—he studied other people."
Dumbledore's frozen smile faded entirely.
He remembered, years ago, when Professor McGonagall asked why he'd hired such a self-promoting fraud, he'd replied—full of confidence—that even from a teacher of poor character, students could learn what not to do, and what sort of person not to become.
Now, he wasn't so sure.
"Shouldn't it be… that one must never lose oneself in the glow of fame…?" Dumbledore murmured.
Jane Yu's answers made his skin crawl, but he pressed on.
"Professor Lupin, of course, is in a league of his own—excellent teaching, worked eighteen hours a day… cough, cough… diligent and conscientious. He made me work hard to learn the Wolfsbane Potion, and was so kind he even bundled himself—man and wolf—as an employee for me."
That seemed fair enough. Dumbledore nodded approvingly, expressing his admiration for Lupin.
"And Moody… no, Crouch? What did you learn from him?" he asked, a trace of hope in his voice.
He thought this one would be easy: Stay away from dark magic, beware the Unforgivable Curses, never point them at others.
"Well, he might have been the enemy, but he was the most hardcore at building up our side. First thing, he taught us all three Unforgivable Curses, and gave a masterclass in acting in front of everyone… I'd say a lot of Slytherins got a lot out of his lessons—not just a deep understanding of dark magic, but some truly Oscar-worthy acting skills. Honestly, for the little snakes these days, even an Oscar would be selling them short."
Dumbledore's mouth drooped from 0° to a distinct -15°, his wrinkles sagging.
He looked like a flower battered by a storm.
"And fifth year—Umbridge. She got everyone physically fit. Loads of students can now run two or three laps around the Black Lake. I bet they could outrun most Aurors… When in danger, even if they can't Apparate, they can sprint for miles, dodging curses as they go."
Dumbledore visibly withered from a battered blossom to a bare, brittle twig.
"No, no, this isn't right. Possession—Memory Charms—Unforgivable Curses—physical fitness—" he muttered, barely audible, his long white beard trembling as he hunched over again. "Shouldn't you have learned something else? This isn't what I had in mind… These professors… weren't they supposed to teach you to cherish life and shun dark magic? Weren't they supposed to teach you to be good people, not follow them down the wrong path…?"
This visit to the Umbridge household felt like a slap to the face—he saw stars and felt dizzy.
Everything had gone off the rails, so far from what he'd imagined!
"Who could have known Quirrell would be possessed by a fragment of Voldemort's soul? Who could have guessed Crouch would impersonate Alastor?" Dumbledore sighed. "It couldn't be helped… no one wants to apply for a cursed post. I never wanted innocent people to suffer… but the students, they…"
He slumped back, staring blankly at a spot on the table, lost in silence.
For a while, the atmosphere in the sitting room was unbearably heavy—even Jane Yu didn't know how to comfort the headmaster, caught between a rock and a hard place.
But just then, Mrs Weasley burst in. She'd probably overheard everything from next door, and was so worried about Dumbledore's gloom that she'd left the twins only half-beaten before rushing back.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, don't listen to all that talk about poor teaching staff! The teaching's always been just fine, all these years!"
"It's not easy for a headmaster to find a new professor every year. Sometimes students should look to themselves—have they ever bothered to study outside class? Have they asked other teachers for extra help? And what about the graduates—have they worked hard since leaving? Have they learned any new magic, any new skills?—You know I'm talking about you! Fred! George! Watch your backsides!"
A mother knows her sons best. The twins' Extendable Ears, lurking at the corner, instantly shrank away.
Dumbledore let out a deep sigh. Hearing all that, he felt his problems were even bigger.
He really couldn't tell if Mrs Weasley's "comforting" words were praise or a subtle dig.
"Molly, thank you, but please don't try to comfort me. The poor quality of Defence Against the Dark Arts is a fact." He sighed. "There's a decision I've put off for too long, but now I finally understand what Yu wanted to show me… Maybe it's time I changed my perspective—though for a man of a hundred and ten, that's no easy thing…"
After hearing Jane Yu's words, he finally understood the point of this trip:
She wanted him to see, first-hand, just how much harm unqualified Defence Against the Dark Arts professors could do to students.
Perhaps, for now, the students were protected by the staff—but one day, they'd have to face the world on their own.
She was using these shocking facts to remind him: in times like these, it's vital to strengthen students' ability to protect themselves, improve school security, and—especially in Defence Against the Dark Arts—raise teaching standards.
That was the truth she wanted him to see and hear with his own eyes.
"Yes… incompetent, morally bankrupt Defence Against the Dark Arts professors leave students unable to defend themselves against dark wizards… Those newly graduated Commissioners are living proof… If you hadn't suggested we see for ourselves, their young lives might have ended before they'd even begun… Even the Death Eaters know the teaching is subpar…"
In his position, Dumbledore felt a profound sense of duty to his students.
He understood now—she probably already had someone in mind.
Jane Yu stared in astonishment as he suddenly rose from the sofa, as if a decision had crystallised within him. He strode towards the fireplace, instructing her:
"Yu, stay here and don't go wandering. I'm going to fetch the professor you want for you and the students… Molly, please let the others know I'll be away for a few days—and keep it quiet…"
He and Mrs Weasley vanished, one after the other, into the green flames.
What professor did she want?
What had she wished for?
How had he left so suddenly?
Jane Yu stared at the now-dark fireplace, feeling thoroughly bewildered.
Still, seeing their key figure snap out of it and spring into action—
That was a relief.
…
After Dumbledore left, the twins—fresh from a thorough thrashing by their mother—finally crept out, furtive as mice.
They cautiously peered around the sitting room—
Just to make sure Dumbledore and their mother wouldn't pop up for another round of soul-searching about their grades.
"…Blimey… that was terrifying… ouch!" Fred jumped as soon as he touched the chair, looking as though his most sensitive parts had taken the brunt. "No wonder he's… the greatest wizard… ever…"
"Too right… ouch… one word and our backsides were toast," George chimed in, wincing. "Merlin's beard, he didn't even need to lift a finger—Mum did all the work!"
"And that blasted Malfoy!" they chorused. "Why does Mum have to take lessons from their lot? Why should top students compare themselves to the worst? Hanging sons at the gates and beating them—what's there to compete about?"
But even after a proper thrashing, the twins could still find the humour in misery, comforting themselves with a bit of classic Weasley optimism:
"Never mind, we hereby declare the Malfoy family banned from our joke shop for generations! Actually—no, they can come in, but whichever foot they step in with first, they'll have to pay a membership fee, and everything will cost ten times as much!"
All three burst out laughing, finally turning to their real topic: the joke shop.
"Have you sorted the location?" Jane Yu asked. "Are you planning to rent or buy?"
"Dad's helped us find a spot in Diagon Alley," Fred announced, beaming. "We were going to buy, but it's not as safe as it used to be, so we're renting for now—more flexible. Congratulations, you're officially our major shareholder! We've decided to name the shop after all three of us—W&J Wizarding Wheezes!"
"These past few days we've been sorting paperwork and picking out products," George added cheerfully. "We came here today just to see if you were in. We're counting on you to give us some advice in the shop. And if you could help us deal with some Ministry types, that'd be even better!"
She had no idea which Ministry pests they meant, but she was one step closer to the dream of earning gold while lying flat.
Jane Yu gave them a relaxed smile and offered her heartfelt congratulations.
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