"I thought resurrection was a common thing," Anthony said, glancing discreetly at Dumbledore's silvery white beard. "I mean, it's common for you wizards."

To be honest, the other man looked like he had lived for centuries. If this kindly old man told him he had been resurrected five times, he would believe it.

"Actually, no, Mr. Anthony. You certainly startled Rufus and me," Dumbledore smiled. "But I think you misunderstood; what you experienced was not resurrection."

Scrimgeour wore a stern expression. "I thought you would try to convince me this was a case of resurrection."

"No, Rufus, I haven't become so senile as to lose my respect for the rules of magic," Dumbledore replied. "If you ask me, I would say Mr. Anthony experienced his first magical surge at the age of twenty-six. He was sent a month into the future by time magic and was surprised to find that everyone thought he had already passed away. This is rare, but not impossible."

"All your inferences are based on the word of this undead wizard," Scrimgeour said. Compared to his expression, his tone was much calmer.

Dumbledore's blue eyes looked kindly at him. "I may not be a master of potions, but you should trust that an old man might be able to discern the truth serum. I must say, you are being a bit aggressive toward our guest."

"An undead wizard and a fugitive from Azkaban," the head of the Auror office muttered. "He should be glad Mad-Eye isn't here."

Anthony frowned. "But I really…"

Dumbledore interrupted him. "I believe you did not intend to lie, my boy. But the truth isn’t necessarily the same as reality, is it?" He shot a sharp glance at Anthony from behind his crescent-shaped glasses, so Anthony did not attempt to argue further.

For a moment, the other man looked too much like his high school teacher—if his teacher had suddenly decided to transition, grow a beard, change his eyes to blue, somehow break his nose, and develop a fondness for deep blue robes and hats—someone he had always held a certain awe for.

Scrimgeour took his silence as acquiescence. "An inherently undead wizard who has experienced time magic, Dumbledore, you're giving me a conundrum. What should I do, send him to the Department of Mysteries?"

His yellow eyes fixed intently on Dumbledore, like a lion waiting to pounce.

"Of course not, Rufus," Dumbledore smiled. "While no one can deny Mr. Anthony's talent, he has not received formal magical education. Yes, this is certainly my oversight, so I sincerely suggest that you allow me to make amends, if I may?"

Scrimgeour and Dumbledore exchanged glances.

"Dumbledore, are you going to vouch for another dark wizard?" he asked.

"If that's how you want to interpret it, then yes," Dumbledore became serious. "I don't want to argue with you further; he will return, and that is a matter of fact for me. Think about it—an undead wizard who can freely enter and exit Azkaban, with the future of countless undead legions at stake. Wouldn't he be tempted?"

"Even… even if we could nip this possibility in the bud early!" Scrimgeour said fiercely in a low voice. "A Dementor's kiss."

Dumbledore gave him a meaningful look. "Think about history; you've seen more detailed history than what is in the textbooks. Think it over."

Scrimgeour sat back down at the desk. He suddenly looked quite tired.

"Hogwarts is a school for underage wizards," he finally said. "Twenty-seven is not underage, anyway."

Dumbledore pondered. "That's true. Hmm… perhaps, Mr. Anthony, would you like to take a position at Hogwarts?"

Anthony considered seriously.

"I don't have a better option, do I?"

"Afraid not," Dumbledore said apologetically. "Being a cashier sounds great, but I assure you that a teaching position at Hogwarts is quite stable… usually. That being said, Henry—if I may call you that—I warmly welcome you on behalf of Hogwarts…"

"Oh, no." A pretentious voice rang out from the fireplace. Anthony jumped. A woman's head floated in the flames, grinning with a toad-like mouth.

"Umbridge, so nice to see you," Scrimgeour said, his tone sounding utterly unconvincing. "What does our esteemed Minister Fudge want?"

"Ahem, I apologize for interrupting you. I just wanted to remind you that if you let an undead wizard teach the lovely children, the public won't be particularly happy about it," Umbridge said. "You know who they would complain to, right?"

She said sweetly, "Furthermore, even if you decide not to pursue the matter of undead magic… oh, the Aurors would understand, wouldn't they? Just tell them it's Dumbledore's idea. (Scrimgeour glared at her, seemingly struggling not to douse the flames with a bucket of water) According to Article 73 of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, we at least have to destroy his wand. Given that he claims he has no wand, it should be standard procedure to revoke his magical abilities."

She didn't even glance at Anthony while speaking, as if discussing how to dispose of a statue. No, it shouldn't be thrown on the roadside; let the recycling people take care of it.

Anthony interjected, "Revoking magical abilities?"

Somehow, even as a head in the fireplace, Umbridge was able to adopt an air of superiority. She smiled, "Life without hands might be a bit tough at first, but you'll adapt, dear."

"That won't do, ma'am. I still need my hands to handle the inventory," Anthony stared at her. "And I don’t need hands to perform magic."

Umbridge squealed and disappeared.

Scrimgeour leaped from his seat. "What did you do?" A beam of red light shot from his wand straight at Anthony but was blocked midway by a blue light. "Dumbledore!"

"Don't panic, Rufus. What is the prototype of the Muggle-Repelling Charm?" Dumbledore retracted his wand, as casually as if guiding students in class. "A spell commonly used by dark creatures?"

"Stunning Spell," Scrimgeour realized. "Brilliant, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a dark creature."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Quirrell will return to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. If you recall, he was previously the Muggle Studies professor. Given Henry's experiences, I believe he is perfectly qualified to teach Muggle Studies."

"But Professor Burbage…"

"Charity did wonderfully, didn't she? She's an enthusiastic partner, but compared to academia, she seems to want to get down to some real work lately. Perhaps she will become your colleague in the future," Dumbledore smiled. "We might even see her in the Muggle Liaison Committee. She would be glad to have someone share some of the teaching duties."

Scrimgeour looked almost persuaded.

At that moment, there was a knock on the office door. A plump face peeked in, smiling kindly. "Oh, Albus, what a surprise! I heard you had a bit of a problem."

"Minister," Scrimgeour stood and nodded at him. "Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to hire Mr. Anthony as a professor at Hogwarts."

"Ah, Albus, you never cease to amaze me," Fudge nodded. "Of course, that's perfectly fine. As long as Mr. Anthony accepts the appropriate punishment for his illegal actions, he can become a law-abiding magical citizen again, and he can pursue any career he wishes."

Anthony cleared his throat. He didn't understand why these bigwigs from the Ministry of Magic were so skilled at treating him like a statue.

"I am an innocent citizen," he insisted, emphasizing the "am."

Dumbledore smiled at him, almost making him feel he was being unreasonable.

Dumbledore turned to Fudge and simply asked, "So, what does he have to give up?"

"Undead wizard, multiple violations of the Statute of Secrecy, resisting Ministry operations…" Fudge pondered. "Sigh, why hasn't Hogwarts registered this wizard? Now things have become much more complicated. Let's go easy on him, shall we? Revoking magical abilities?"

Dumbledore apologized for the school's oversight and rejected Fudge's proposal.

The headmaster of Hogwarts proposed that he vouch for the future professor.

The Minister of Magic rejected the headmaster's guarantee.

A holder of the Merlin Order, First Class, vouched for the headmaster's guarantee.

A member of the Wizengamot rejected the First Class guarantee.

The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot vouched for the First Class guarantee.

Fudge was defeated, somewhat irritated. "Of course, Albus, of course! As long as you're willing!"

Scrimgeour remained silent throughout.

Anthony was in awe.

Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "Alright, Henry, we have some contracts to sign. Perhaps you would like to return to Hogwarts with me?" His hand conveyed an air of irresistible authority. "With a bit of luck, we might even catch the afternoon tea prepared by the house-elves."