Chapter 1 – Arrival
It was a week after the meteor incident, and once again, Albus Dumbledore sat brooding behind his desk, listening to the whirring of his silver instruments. This time, however, Dumbledore was thinking about the new candidate for Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. No, he hadn't managed to find a person who would take up the job, but the alternative was a hundred times worse. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, had passed a law allowing the Ministry to select a suitable candidate for a teaching post, if the headmaster was unable to find one. The Minister had subsequently appointed his Personal Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge, to the position.
Dumbledore grimaced inwardly. He knew that the appointment of Umbridge was simply an excuse to have a spy in the castle, and that the Minister didn't care whether or not his students got a good education. He picked up a leaflet advertising the job, looked at it angrily for a second, before placing back on the desk. Fawkes gave a soft crow, and Dumbledore went over to his perch and gave him a little scratch under the chin. A light breeze swept through the office, causing several pieces of paper to flutter off his desk and onto the ground. Sighing, Dumbledore turned to close the door, but it was shut, as was the window. Dumbledore frowned. Where had the breeze come from?
Dismissing it as one of Hogwarts' many secrets, he started walking up the stairs to his bedroom, when he heard a faint sound. Dumbledore stopped and frowned again. The noise was becoming clearer and louder, and seemed to be coming from the corner of the room, just to the right of the door. Dumbledore blinked in surprise. When he had looked at the spot a moment ago, it was empty, but now a small, pulsing light hung in mid air. Curiosity got the better of him, and he went down the stairs to get a closer look. By now, the noise was discernible – it was a wheezing, groaning sound. To Dumbledore's shock, the sound seemed to correspond to the pulses of the light, and to his further surprise, a shape seemed to be materialising out of thin air! Taking out his wand and hurriedly retreating a few steps, he stared in shock and awe as with a final thud, a blue box solidified in his office.
Moving cautiously, Dumbledore approached the box. It appeared to be made out of wood, yet it was emitting a humming sound. He reached out a hand to touch it, but quickly withdrew; the box was vibrating. Suddenly, doors to the box flew open, and a young man dressed wearing a tweed jacket and a bow tie stepped out, beaming at his surroundings.
"London, two thousand, one hundred and ninety-one," the man said confidently, looking around. "Damn, I've done it again,"he muttered, his smile faltering, realising he hadn't reached his destination. However, his eyes lit up once more when he noticed Dumbledore.
"Kazran Sardick, how good it is to see you again!" he cried, rushing forward to shake Dumbledore's hand. "How's the Cloud Belt going? And the flying shark? I'd intended to visit my granddaughter, but what the hell!"
The man had obviously confused Dumbledore with someone else.
"Is this your office?" the man continued, looking around. "I haven't had an office since I was elected President of the Ti -" The man coughed, before noticing Dumbledore's raised wand. "What's that you're pointing at me? And what's with the beard? You're not trying to copy your dad's appearance, are you?"
"Who're you?" Dumbledore eyed the man with suspicion. "And how did you get your box in here? I take it that it's some kind of machine?"
"Well, yes," said the man. "After all the times you've been in it, I would've thought that was obvious!"
Dumbledore ignored the last remark. "If it is a machine, then how is it working? No muggle technology works near Hogwarts," he said, more to himself than to the man.
"Sorry – muggle?"
"Non-magic folk."
"Magic?"
Dumbledore stared. "You don't know what magic is? Then how'd you break all of the, err, protection around this castle?"
The man frowned. "Okay, not Kazran," he said, before answering Dumbledore's question. "The TARDIS – that's what the box's called – doesn't care much for protections," he explained. "She just lands where she wants to."
Dumbledore lowered his wand. The man didn't seem much like a threat, and in any case, he, Dumbledore, had the wand, and therefore the upper hand, if the man did decide to turn hostile.
"...was trying to visit my granddaughter, but ended up here. Where exactly am I; what's the date?" the man said, looking at Dumbledore expectantly.
"You're in Hogwarts castle, in my office."
"And the date?"
"Friday, August twenty-five, nineteen ninety-five," answered Dumbledore, raising a sceptical eyebrow. How could anyone forget the date, let alone the year?
The man seemed satisfied. "Good year, nothing too bad happens," he said. "And you are?"
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I might ask you the same question, especially as you err, appeared in the room without my permission."
"I did, didn't I?" the man mused, before grinning. "My name's the Doctor," he said, moving forward to give Dumbledore an air kiss on both cheeks.
"Doctor? That's a muggle word," replied Dumbledore. "So I repeat my earlier question: if you are a muggle, how did you get your box in here?"
The man was now looked curiously around the room. "Oh, quite by accident. Imagine a big tub of water, then think of what happens when an object is placed in the tub. The water gets displaced, doesn't? Well same principle, where the water is the air, and the object placed in it is my box."
"I see," lied Dumbledore. The analogy didn't make any sense whatsoever.
"Good, because it's nothing like that," muttered the man, inspecting one of Dumbledore's silver instruments.
Dumbledore frowned. The man seemed to have no intention of telling him how he got through Hogwarts' protective enchantments; why else would he say such nonsense? Sighing, he tried a different method of getting the man to talk.
"Why are you here, err, Doctor?" he asked.
The man looked up, flustered. "Ah, good question! I'm here because...because." His eyes flickered around the room before landing on the pamphlet advertising the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. "I'm here for the teaching job!" the man finally proclaimed.
Dumbledore almost laughed. "Sorry, Doctor, but the job has already been taken, but I hardly think a person such as yourself would be capable of teaching such as subject."
"Oh," the man said, looking hassled, "Is there anything else I can teach? Maths or physics? Any of the sciences? I'm quite good at them..."
Dumbledore frowned once more. "I don't think you understand; Hogwarts is a school of magic, not of irrelevant muggle subjects."
"Irrelevant?" the man said indignantly. "Science isn't irrelevant at all, in fact, it's the most important subject of them all. Science is the study of the universe, how and why everything behaves in certain ways, the classification of organisms, the search for minerals under the earth, the discovery of distant planets! How can anyone call that irrelevant?"
Dumbledore considered. Would it be prudent to let the students learn more about the physical world? It would certainly increase their knowledge about some aspects of the muggle word, and he had to admit, that was a good thing. Weighing up all the options, Dumbledore made an executive decision.
"Very well," he coughed, and the man looked up hopefully. "Doctor, I have decided to employ you as the Professor of the new subject, Science. I trust you can devise a curriculum for seven groups of students before they arrive in a week's time?"
The Doctor nodded.
"Excellent. I'll show you to your classroom tomorrow morning, but for now, it is time to rest. Would you like me to provide temporary sleeping arrangements? The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade has good beds, apparently."
"No, that won't be necessary," the man said quickly. "I'll just sleep in here." He motioned towards the box. "If that's alright, Mister err?" he added hastily.
"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. Incidentally, Doctor who?"
The man grinned. "Smith. Doctor John Smith."
"Goodnight, John."
But John had already disappeared inside the box again.
Not worried about how John intended on sleeping in a box (he had probably put an undetectable extension charm on it), Dumbledore shook his head and slowly made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. He was very much aware that the Ministry wouldn't approve of his decision, but he felt he didn't really care what the Ministry thought, particularly not in the current circumstances. At least he might get a chance to find out how 'the Doctor' had managed to get into Hogwarts.
Inside the box, the Doctor wasn't displaying any sign of fatigue whatsoever; he was checking some instruments on the TARDIS console, namely the radiation indicator. The TARDIS was actually a time machine, capable of travelling anywhere throughout time and space, and was infinitely bigger on the inside than the out, allowing the Doctor to practically live inside. Despite his youthful appearance, the Doctor was really much, much older; he had just celebrated his 1, 313th birthday.
"Radiation: OFF THE SCALE!" the Doctor read in alarm, before descending into a mad panic, trying desperately to find the decontamination tablets left over from his first encounter with the daleks. By the time he found them, however, he had calmed down sufficiently to notice that the radiation indicator display had expanded.
'Radiation type: Upsilon. Upsilon radiation consists of charged particles existing in a magical field. Upsilon Particles were first discovered by humans in 103,459 AD, when the general population learned that a small portion of humans had developed the ability to harness the magical field and focus the particles through a 'wand'. Upsilon Particles are known simply as 'magic' by the general population
The Doctor looked up from the display, excitement evident in his eyes. "So that's why Kazran's look-a-like was going on about magic! He's a wizard, which means I'm going to be teaching young wizards and witches!" He rambled on for a bit more before realising that, if he was going to able to play the part of a wizard effectively, he would need to be able to perform magic. One quick infusion of his sonic screwdriver with upsilon particles from the atmosphere outside the TARDIS, and he was able to perform 'magic', although he noticed the screwdriver seemed to play up when trying to cast spells. He'd have to rectify that fault soon. The next several hours were spent researching the history of magic, and of wizards and witches. It turned out the magic population was quite primitive in terms of technology, having never really progressed out of the Middle Ages in that respect. Subsequently, the Doctor discovered that the magical population believed several ludicrous explanations for natural phenomena. Deciding that he had done enough research for the night, he exited the TARDIS, ready to settle into his new (temporary) home.
Author Note: Due to pleasing progress with the sequel, I now intend to update every four days, hence why this chapter is up today instead of Wednesday. The sequel currently consists of five and a bit chapters (including a prologue of sorts), with 12.5k words. I estimate that it's just over 50% completed, so I should have it done in about two weeks.
The explanation for magic is different than the one given in the original story, though both explanations do require quite a bit of suspension of disbelief!