Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, and Howl's Moving Castle belongs to Diana Wynne Jones

Welsh Rugby
In which Howl is nearly pinned down

Megan Parry scowled as she drug the rubbish bins down to the edge of the driveway. It did not particularly bother Dumbledore, for he was rather used to the sulking of disapproving Muggle relatives. And she was not nearly as unpleasant as she was… spirited.

He had taken to sitting outside the front gate, waiting for the mysterious Howell to appear. As it was getting rather close to the start of term, he worried. He did not need the Ministry deciding he was incapable of finding a replacement teacher.

He gave a good-natured sigh. "I suppose it would be imposing too much to ask to be invited in for tea. Lemon drop?" he offered, but only received a stony silence. He popped the candy into his mouth.

Hands on her hips, Megan glared down at him. "I hope you don't think you're going to sit here again all day while Gareth's gone. If you don't stop stalking myself and my family, I'm going to call the police!"

"No, no, of course not, I was just resting!" Dumbledore desperately wanted to avert any run-in with the Muggle authorities, due to a few bad experiences. He had been accosted once or twice for being a suspicious character, and being the helpful old man that he was, each time he immediately pulled out his wand and assured the officers that it was harmless unless he wanted to go around poking out eyes. For whatever reason, they always seemed to find this offensive, and Albus found himself receiving an educational tour of the Muggle prison system.

"Rest someplace else!" While she was yelling at him, Albus felt a curious little bit of magic behind him. Naturally, he turned around to investigate.

A familiar young man was approaching down the sidewalk, apparently nonplussed by his sister's angry shouting and strange visitor. "Really, Megan," he laughed, "leave the poor man alone. Since when did you stop inviting guests into the house?"

She glowered impressively. "Your guest, more like. What do you mean by vanishing and sending your friends to my home?"

Howl blinked and glanced at Dumbledore, seeming to notice the aged wizard for the first time. His green eyes, Albus noted, looked much more alive than the last time he had met him.

"Hm… do I know you?"

Dumbledore sighed; this did not bode well for his hopes of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Yes, we met at your Rugby Club Reunion. I offered you a teaching position at my school, and you accepted. It's quite irresponsible of you to vanish after I hired you. What have you been up to?"

Howl tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I did get married."

"Married! When?" Megan's blue eyes were wide in surprise, anger, and hurt. "You've never brought a woman with you. And when was the wedding? Do I even want to know why you suddenly decided to run off and find yourself a wife?"

Howl seemed to shrink, as if preparing to slither back the way he came. "I've been very busy lately. Did it slip my mind to mention it to you?"

Dumbledore sighed again, fetching another lemon drop from his pocket as he sat on the roadside and waited for the family bickering to end. Really, petty arguments of jealousy were rather tiring at his age.

When Megan had stormed back up the length of the sidewalk and slammed the door behind her, he fished a roll of parchment from his robes and turned to Howl. He ventured, "You may not remember our agreement, but I have the contract you signed, if you would like to refresh your memory."

"I'm on my last apprentice, sir." Howl seemed to turn a very sad and noble figure upon which to look. "He wants to get married soon himself, you see. I don't think I shall be able to go on teaching after that."

"Nonsense, that's just what you need to get your mind off of moping!"

Howl took the parchment delicately into his hands. "Well then, I'm resigning."

"No, my dear Professor Jenkins, you cannot quit," here Albus tapped a line of writing, "until the first accident of the year."

"…Accident?"

"Oh, it's a finicky little position, Defense Against the Dark Arts," he replied with vague lightness.

Having now read to the end of his contract, the reluctant teacher smiled triumphantly, and he looked quite dashing. "I'm sorry, but you have the wrong man. This was signed by H-O-W-L Jenkins, and my name is H-O-W-E-L-L Jenkins."

Dumbledore squinted at the line, then remarked, "Well, so it is, I hadn't noticed. That's strange, the magical binding took to you anyway. There's really no getting out of this, I'm afraid. But don't worry, it's only for a year. Less than that, even, so I'm certain you'll manage. And I won't even ask you to return next year. Lemon drop?"

Howl ignored him, searching for another last resort, so Dumbledore shrugged, ate the candy himself, and apparated them both away.

…
to be continued
…

-Windswift