Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Ministry of Magic Atrium, London, England August 23rd, 1996
Carson Wolf immediately found out that he didn't like magical transport very much. After grabbing onto what looked like an innocent looking teddy bear (missing an eye), he was pulled by his stomach at immense speed until landing very hard in some sort of Atrium full of chimneys. Only his old training kept him from serious injury, rolling and taking the brunt of the impact with his shoulder before even registering where he was. Then he hurled this morning's cheerios all over the polished wood floor, much to the disgust of several passerby's. The old man chuckled, and with a wave the mess was banished. (Lord only knew where Dumbledore and all the others banished their sick to.)
"Urrrgh, that was terrible" the young man groaned while hunched over, hands resting on his knees.
"Please tell me we don't have to do that again."
"No, not unless you wish to return to the United States." The old man answered in a far too cheerful voice. Sadistic Prick.
He shook his head enthusiastically, and the two headed towards the security checkpoint. The gray suited ministry guard confiscated Dumbledore's wand, but looked confused when the younger stranger handed him a black metal muggel artifact. The headmaster chuckled lightly at the reaction, but said nothing.
"Pretty tight security." Carson casually stated. "Is it always like this around here?" The former Marine easily spotted the brown coats lingering in the most strategically placed locations around the lobby. 'Clear lines of fire, easily defensible positions, and good cover close by. These guys had training. They also looked nervous.'
The older man sighed, for the first time showing his true age. "No Mister Wolf, but in light of recent events it became necessary once more." Clearly Dumbledore didn't wish to explain at the moment, so the younger man didn't press. He did wish for his sidearm back though. The looks he was receiving were at best disinterested. Most just looked at him suspiciously, like he was going to pull an RPG from behind his back and blow up the lobby's statue.
They passed various offices on the main floor before stopping in front of an ancient looking elevator. When the metal door screeched open, several paper airplanes zipped out, followed by more strangely dressed folks.
They emerged on another floor, walked through countless cubicle farms, before stopping in a small and rundown section of the ministry. The bronze plaque above the office read; Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.
At this point Carson felt like he was just along for the ride. Like a tourist in a foreign land. Then he realized he was in fact in another country. England, according to the old man. Using nothing more than a stuffed animal to get there. There was a slight headache coming on, one which he was sure would balloon exponentially by the end of the day. 'Best just not to think about it too much', he thought while pinching his the bridge of his nose.
"Arthur!" Dumbledore greeted the middle-aged man with flaming red hair jovially. "Good to see you again. How are molly and the kids doing?"
The two spoke for a few more minutes while Carson had a look around. The office was cluttered with a hodgepodge of items. Everything from eating utensils to a running lawnmower in the corner. It simply idled there. No exhaust, not even any noise until he was about a foot away. Backing away, then back forward, he was puzzled by how such a thing was possible. Was this a cursed lawnmower?
The two wizards in the room turned their attention to the curious young man.
"Is this the muggle you were telling me about?" There was definite excitement in Arthur's voice.
Carson turned away from the magical mower to greet the exited Wizard.
"Arthur Weasley!" the man practically shouted. "So very pleased to meet you." The man shook Carson's hand vigorously. Immediately after the exited red haired man began to bombard his visitor with all kinds of questions. He horribly mispronounced a number of items, and Carson had to hold back his laughter out fear of insulting the man. He seemed nice, and was the first person here besides Dumbledore to actually take interest in him.
Carson politely answered all of his questions until the Headmaster cleared his throat.
"Oh yes, right! The documents! "The man turned to his desk, shuffling around a pile of papers.
"Arthur was nice enough to gather the required forms to integrate you into Magical Society.," Dumbledore explained. "You will retain your name, and will be given Squib status."
"Squid what?"
"Squibs. Oh right, they are non-magicals born to wizards or witches. Not very common, but it does happen. Most of them choose to live with muggles. There seems to be an unfortunate double standard towards them."
Carson was not thrilled to be called a squib. Even muggle sounded better than that he had to admit.
"Now, the last bit of paperwork regards our society's statue of secrecy." He pushed the yellow parchment in front of the young man. "It is similar to your government's 'Non disclosure Act'."
Carson shrugged, signing the document as well. "Not like anyone would believe me anyway. But hey, if it makes you happy by all means."
"Excellent." There was that damn twinkle again. "Now that that's all settled, shall we proceed to Hogwarts?"
Carson's easy going expressions fell off his face, replaced instead with a look of dread. "I'm not touching that Teddy Bear again."
oOo
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry August 23rd, 1996
Floo travel, while still somewhat strange (but what wasn't) was infinitely more preferable to that horrible key port thing. Again he had come out on the other side with great speed, and again he rolled to break the fall. Only this time there was a solid oak desk in the way. Fawkes watches in surprise, then amusement as the human came flying out of the fireplace with a green 'WOOSH', then the dull thud and groan as he hit. The headmaster casually strolled out of the flames smelling like a rose, so to speak. Carson had a snarky remark on his lips but paused when he noticed the dozens of eyes on him.
Moving eyes.
Belonging to moving pictures. He stared at them, forgetting that he was about to insult the bearded Wizard.
"Albus!" a rather serious picture hollered. "I just received word from my twin in the ministry. How dare you bring a muggle here, let alone allow IT to teach!"
Not sure of what to say, said muggle simply raised his eyebrows, as if to say; 'oh really?'
"Now, now Sagittarius, we've talked about your behavior before. Things are different now. I will not have you slander Professor Wolf here, nor any other staff or muggle born students. I will flip your portrait to face the wall if you keep up this behavior, understood?"
The man in the frame huffed in defeat, but continued to glare at the younger man. Carson gave him the two fingered salute and turned back to take in the rest of the Office. There were spinning instruments, old and dusty tomes on overtaxed bookshelves, and last but not least a rather large Butterball sitting on a perch next to the rich hardwood desk.
Noting his newest staff member's obvious fatigue Dumbledore decided it was a good time to show the man to his classroom and attached sleeping quarters. Then he un-shrunk Carson's meager belongings and bid the young man good night. Tomorrow he'd get a tour of the castle, and meet the other staff.
oOo
A new day dawned in the Scottish Highlands. In another week the blissful piece that had prevailed over the summer would be shattered with the arrival of hundreds of rowdy magical school children. The staff sighed longingly at another year sure to be filled with trouble makers, detentions, and general mayhem. On the bright side that bitch Umbridge was gone, and while she might have been a terrible person, all of the staff secretly thanked her for driving out the Weasley twins. There were still damp spots in front of the great hall from that swamp they conveniently left there.
And so, at eight am the staff came together for their first meal of the day. That is, all but one.
"Albus, are you sure the lad knows where to find us?" Minerva asked between sips of her Earl Gray.
She was curious about her new colleague despite him being a non-magical. Surly Albus wouldn't have picked him if the boy didn't have some form of Education. Oh, she was certain he knew more about Muggles than all of the staff combined. But teaching was not something anyone could do. Just look at Snape.
Breakfast came and went, and by 11 am the deputy Headmistress felt it was time to check in on their new professor. The classroom was unlocked, and a quick peek confirmed it to be empty. 'He couldn't still be asleep'. With more of a 'head of house' attitude she knocked on the wood door. "Mr. Wolf, are you in there?"
No answer. After a few more seconds she repeated the process, knocking with enough vigor that it sounded more like banging. Finally the door swung open to reveal a partially clothed young man sporting a rather impressive case of bed head. He looked barley conscious.
"What?" he half hissed half asked.
"Professor Wolf. You didn't show up for breakfast, and I began to worry." McGonagall supplied, trying to keep the disappointment out of her tone. So he was sleeping.
"Tell me", she added cautiously. "Is it normal for muggles to sleep in this late?" She saw his eye twitch in annoyance.
"Ma'am, I'm sure you're not familiar with the term, so I'll explain myself this once. Up until yesterday my sleep schedule revolved around Pacific Time. If I remember correctly this Castle is located in Scotland. That's about 8 hour's difference. I'm experiencing what is called 'Jet lag'."
Without another word, the irritated youngster (compared to her) shut the door, leaving her speechless.
That evening dinner was the first real introduction between the grouchy Muggle professor and the rest of the staff. He seemed polite enough, but the face of the Transfiguration teacher said it all.
Carson cursed himself for being so rude to the Woman on their first encounter. So his first action of course was to walk up to where she was sitting and publically apologize. After all, they would be working together soon, and he'd hate to make an enemy simply because of his sleeping habits. She accepted, though was still rather cool when addressing him.
Apart from the brief interactions during mealtimes, Carson had chosen to isolate himself for the days prior to the beginning of term. Yes, he wanted to learn as much about magic as possible, but he'd been hired to be a teacher, and that was above all his first priority.
Seated behind his new desk in his classroom (the thought still made him smile) he looked over Mrs. Burbage's syllabus for each year. Then he tore the damn thing apart because of how ridiculously easy it was.
The third and fourth years however stayed the same…mostly, with the latter being marginally harder. Better to ease them into it rather than slam the book down hard. After all he wanted the pint sized magic users to like him. The sixth and seventh years weren't so lucky, and would be in for a surprise.
Speaking of surprises, there was next to no practical aspects to Muggle studies. It was all theory. He'd have to talk to the Headmaster about that. There was a broad range of skills that these kids should have if they wanted to blend in with the real world. Field trips would definitely be in order.
This class used to be called the easy alternative to Arithmancy (basically math from what Professor Vector told him) and Ancient Runes. The later was something which he was eager to learn, seeing how one needed very little magic to make them work.
That would change. He cackled evilly, imagining the poor kiddies faces after handing out the revised class outlines in a few days' time.