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Following the declassification of numerous files at the Ministry of Magic’s Internal Investigations Department, it turns out that a long-standing rumor was true: a Hogwarts personality was seeking to run for political office. Notoriously private in life, this transcript of a vetting session took place in the year before his death. It reveals what many already suspected: that Dumbledore was unfit to run a school, let alone an ice cream van.

[Due to an injunction by one of his former students with formidable clout, one Harry Potter, the former headmaster’s name has been redacted from the document. We will comply with the law, Mr. Potter, but know that this cover up makes the subsequent revelation infinitely worse.]


Dumbledore [Hereafter referred to as Client]: I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Myra.

Myra: Yes, well, what’s an hour between friends?

Client: Yes, yes. Every Flavor Bean?

Myra: (Pause) They’re all moldering blackberry flavor, aren’t they?

Client: (Pause, laughter) How did you know?

Myra: I know because it’s my job to know, Mr. Dumbledore. Those kinds of pranks may win you friends with your precious Gryffindors, but that will not play well to voters.

Client: Gryffindors?

Myra: I suppose that’s as good a segue as any.

Client: Oh, I certainly enjoy this. So businesslike.

Myra: Huh. Anyway, take a look at this. (Papers rustling)

Client: What is this?

Myra: It is a printout…

Client: A what?

Myra: A printout of…

Client: Whassat?

Myra: (Sigh) A muggle thing.

Client: What ingenuity!

Myra: Beats quills that carve words into your skin.
Client: Umbridge…

Myra: Oh, we’ll get to her. Rather start with the small things. Makes it a little bit less ragey.

Client: You’re the headmistress! (Laughter)

Myra: (Pause) Quaint. (Shuffling papers) Do you notice anything odd about this list?

Client: I see the winners of the house cup.

Myra: Quite. Does the makeup of the winners strike you as noteworthy?

Client: Just Gryffindor kicking its fair share of hinders.

Myra: (Pause) Are you aware of the Law of Averages, Mr. Dumbledore? (Pause) Of course not. All things being equal, it is preposterous to assume that four houses, equal in student body, would have such a lopsided distribution in winners.

Client: Well, just because the numbers are the same…

Myra: Are you prejudiced for Gryffindor? (Pause) Do you need me to repeat the question?

Client: I certainly am not.

Myra: Then why this odd distribution?

Client: I am not…

Myra: Mr. Dumbledore, you asked me to look into your vulnerabilities for a potential run. If you do not have an explanation for this, based on student complaints alone…

Client: Students don’t complain!

Myra: Yes. They do. A slightly larger number from a… (Rustling papers) Draco Malfoy… but nevertheless, students have complained.

Client: About what?

Myra: Blatant favoritism. Arbitrary point distribution. If you run, some reporter is going to get a subpoena for your magic hourglasses, and your penchant for last-minute score dumps for Gryffindor is going to look very bad to voters.

Client: (Inaudible)

Myra: What was that?

Client: Fucking Slytherin.

Myra: Ah, yes. Slytherin. Let’s talk about a June 13th, 1991 staff meeting, shall we?

Client: For goodness sakes…

Myra: Did you not tell the head of Slytherin house that the wizarding world would be better off if you, quote, got together every Slytherin who got on their knees for the parseltongue geezer, lock them in the dungeon, and set the bloody place on fire, unquote?

Client: That was taken out of context!

Myra: Did you start the sentence with “I would have to be an idiot to believe”?

Client: Not quite…

Myra: Then it’s hard to really see what kind of context would justify it.

Client: No one even likes Slytherin!

Myra: Except the hundreds who have gone on to leave Slytherin and acquire a lot of money. Money you will need.

Client: They were traitors!

Myra: Yes. And I would agree that having a house at our one major wizarding school carry the name of a dangerous, power-hungry, anti-Muggle, snake-obsessed turncoat is a bit on the odd side. But we play with the cards we are dealt. (Pause)

Client: I can play nice with the inbred snake fondlers.

Myra: (Clears throat)

Client: Sorry. The respectable job creators.

Myra: Less sarcastically next time. (Pause) You’ll also need to stop referring to Hufflepuff as Humplepugs.

Client: Oh for the love of god!

Myra: The Hufflepuff Lobby…

Client: (Crosstalk) What’s the excuse? They don’t have any money!

Myra: Are a vocal part of this community…

Client: (Crosstalk) Are they trying to save newts this week?

Myra: And you can’t be alienating anyone…

Client: (Crosstalk) Or are they jerking us around with violence against wands again?

Myra: (Shouting) You need their support in light of what happened to Dolores.

Client: (Pause) With the centaurs?

Myra: So I take it you are aware of this.

Client: Of course I’m aware of it.

Myra: (Pause) Do you have a comment?

Client: Should I?

Myra: A temporary headmistress to came to power when a child army…

Client: It was just a name…

Myra: (Louder) Which you admitted to creating prompted you to flee Hogwarts. The abandonment of your responsibilities led to children suffering at her hands. And when she was dragged off and assaulted by centaurs, mysteriously they only stopped when you showed up.

Client: Did she put you up to this?

Myra: No. She’s still in shock. But people are talking, Mr. Dumbledore.

Client: (Muttering, inaudible)

Myra: You will need to speak up.

Client: No one liked her, you know.

Myra: And that means she should be assaulted?

Client: You’re twisting my words.

Myra: You used other people’s children as soldiers. (Pause) No defense for that one?

Client: They wanted to learn how to defend themselves.

Myra: Oh, well. Thank goodness you were the adult in that situation. (Sigh) It is my job to look at your candidacy at all angles. And this situation, coupled with the fact that two former students who you speak very highly of are selling mind-altering, dangerous substances that can be used to elicit sex from an unwilling victim…

Client: Those are just childish pranks.

Myra: (Pause) Will that be your official stance? That you presided over a school within walking distance to magic Mickey Finns because sexual assault is a prank?

Client: (Pause) I like how you’re getting all high and mighty on me, when it’s your Ministry…

Myra: I am a contract worker, Mr. Dumbledore. I am not looking to undermine you here.

Client: (Inaudible) You turned out fine.

Myra: I was educated at Beauxbatons.

Client: Of fucking course you were.

Myra: What can I say? My parents weren’t thrilled with Hogwart’s mortality rate. (Distant knocks)

Client: Come in. (Door creaking)

Myra: Excuse me, we are in an interview.

Severus Snape: I apologize, I was unaware.

Client: It’s nothing, Sweet Cheeks.

Myra: (Pause) Well, this is awkward.

Snape: I will come back at a later time.

Client: I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave. (Door shutting)

Myra: Did you just sexually harass Professor Snape in my presence?

Client: It was a complement.

Myra: Okay, in light of all your vulnerabilities…

Client: Oh, come on! Preferential treatment of a house during a meaningless game and a few dead children isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Myra: Oh? And what about the rumors of Harry Potter?

Client: What rumors?

Myra: That you are grooming him to be a human time bomb?

Client: More of a sacrificial lamb, really.

Myra: (Pause) Excuse me?

Client: It makes a lot of sense, actually. A drunk profit told me that he and Voldermort have to kill each other so I engineered a convoluted situation whereby Harry would briefly die so that he could risk death again at the hand of an evil dictator who brought our world to its knees.

Myra: (Muttered) I… just… what? How in the hell is this a good plan?

Client: We taught the boy expelliarmus. That should be good.

Myra: Expelliarmus?

Client: Yes.

Myra: The disarm spell?

Client: Yes. Actually that Malfoy brat you mentioned earlier is going to use that spell to disarm me and become the inheritor of the Elder Wand, thereby giving Harry the edge he needs to win. (Pause) Or something like that.

Myra: (Long pause) You. Albus way too many names to list Dumbledore. Are in possession of the Elder Wand? The legendary, most powerful wand in existence?

Client: Oh, yes.

Myra: And you need this as headmaster because?

Client: It makes me feel like a big man.

Myra: (Pause) And you don’t see this as a problem?

Client: No. I always had this kind of lust for power. Nothing cures flaccid masculinity quite like a big, hard wand in your pocket.

Myra: Professor Snape isn’t here.

Client: Oh, right. (Pause) The point is that I’ve always had a lust for power that’s made me do stupid, dangerous things. I mean, look at this shit.

Myra: Holy Christ!

Client: Yeah. Thought that ring would give me power. Turns out to be slowly killing me now. Horcruxes, I tell you.

Myra: I… I am sorry, Mr. Dumbledore. I can not recommend a run for public office at this time. Your complete disregard for the life and well-being of your charges, blatant sexual harassment, lust for power, and just all-around horribleness make it inadvisable to run.

Client: You mean, like, right now?

Myra: (Pause) Forever.

Client: Bugger. (Pause) What about Muggle politics?

Myra: (Pause) I think I can work with that.

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