Most professors at Hogwarts were single—needless to say, Severus Snape was one of them. His relationship with Lily, if placed in the online world of twenty-first-century China, would have been the hottest of all "forbidden crush" dramas.
Dumbledore himself had also loved and lost. His bond with Gellert Grindelwald was something so deeply entangled that even time could not untie it. The two had known each other for nearly a century, yet the only time they had met in the past hundred years was when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and imprisoned him in Nurmengard.
Most of the other professors had devoted their entire lives to Hogwarts as well. Professor McGonagall had once been in love and even married, but both experiences ended in heartbreak. At first, like her mother, she fell for a Muggle—only to leave him for the sake of the Statute of Secrecy. Later, she married her superior at the Ministry of Magic, but he died unexpectedly in their third year of marriage.
Clearly, the so-called Hogwarts Singlehood Curse was terrifyingly effective.
"Let's not make jokes about that," Dumbledore said, his tone carrying a hint of irritation. When a jest touched on someone's scars, it ceased to be a joke at all.
Charles immediately apologized for his tactlessness and promised not to bring it up again.
"Especially not in front of Minerva or Severus," Dumbledore added firmly. "Now then, back to the point."
"Ever since I repeatedly refused Tom's requests to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, he, in his resentment, placed a curse upon the position. From that day forward, no Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has ever completed a full year without incident."
Dumbledore's expression grew thoughtful.
"I've always wondered," Charles asked curiously, "how exactly did he manage that?"
After all, Hogwarts was no ordinary building—it was a fortress brimming with layers of ancient and powerful magic. In such a place, ordinary curses would have no chance of taking root.
"Quite right," Dumbledore nodded. "Before Tom's interference, the Defense professors did encounter misfortunes now and then, but none were fatal. The worst cases were a few months' stay in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."
Charles blinked."…I'd say that's already bad enough."
A wizard could heal broken bones in a matter of hours, even in the school infirmary. For someone to need hospitalization at St. Mungo's—a facility far more advanced than Hogwarts' hospital wing—that was already serious.
Even when Draco Malfoy had been beaten by Charles earlier that term, he'd only spent a week or two there—and that was merely because he'd been poisoned by Venusaur's Stun Spore and Poison Powder, for which no magical antidote existed.
"True," said Dumbledore, "but compared to curses that outright kill, it's mild. I believe the castle's own magic dampened Voldemort's power. That's why I call it more a malefic charm than a true curse."
He paused, eyes glimmering beneath his half-moon spectacles. "However, based on the future you've told me about, it seems this curse is growing stronger. In the seven years to come, every Defense professor meets a grim fate. It's about time we take the initiative and break it ourselves."
"Is that even possible?"
"Difficult, yes," Dumbledore replied with an almost mischievous smile, "but worth attempting."That confident grin suggested at least an eighty percent chance of success—perhaps even more.
"To answer your question," he continued, "as to why Voldemort could curse an entire course—one reason is, of course, his exceptional power and mastery of the Dark Arts. But the other… is that he is the heir of Slytherin."
"What does being Slytherin's heir have to do with it?" Charles asked, puzzled. The Chamber of Secrets only housed a thousand-year-old Basilisk—was there some other legacy of magic left behind?
"Everything," said Dumbledore. "Salazar Slytherin was one of Hogwarts' founders, meaning he possessed certain privileges tied to the school itself. Tom, being his descendant, inherited a portion of those privileges—and as it happens, Dark Magic was Salazar's greatest strength."
It was partly conjecture, but not without merit. Hogwarts itself could be seen as a vast magical artifact, and artifacts had hierarchies of authority.
For instance, one could not enter the Headmaster's office without the castle's own recognition—even if they were Headmaster in name. When Umbridge took the position, she was forced to sulk in the Defense office instead.And as shown in the films, the Headmaster had the power to lift the school's anti-Apparition wards.
If that authority existed for the Headmaster, it wasn't far-fetched for the heir of Slytherin to hold some degree of access as well.
"So how do we break it?" Charles asked.
Breaking a curse—or even a malefic charm—was no simple matter. Such enchantments weren't like ordinary hexes; they couldn't be dispelled by standard countercurses. Even identifying the proper target was impossible.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was not a tangible object. Even if he aimed his wand, where exactly was he supposed to point?
At the classroom itself? Impossible—Hogwarts' classrooms were riddled with layers of enchantments. A miscast counterspell could easily unravel something else entirely.It was like defusing a bomb with a dozen wires—all tangled together. Cut the wrong one, and you'd make it worse.
Maybe aim it at Quirrell?
Or perhaps just cast Fiendfyre straight at the back of Quirrell's head and let the flames deal with Voldemort directly. Once Voldemort was dead, the problem would solve itself.
"I'll need to borrow your magic and wand later," Dumbledore said casually. "But we'll handle that after this term ends. I'd like to leave Tom a little gift. Hopefully, his own magic turns against him."
He chuckled, clearly proud of the idea.
Only Dumbledore would think of using Voldemort's own curse against him.
Charles shrugged. It wasn't his problem, after all—he wasn't the one teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Why Snape and Voldemort both coveted that cursed position was beyond him.
It wasn't exactly the most enviable post.
"Speaking of Tom," Charles asked, "how's that diary of his coming along?"
"Oh, splendidly," Dumbledore said with an amused twinkle. "He doesn't trust me yet, but he's already trying to seduce me to his side."
He winked. "But I, my dear boy, am the Dark Lord here. He's playing with fire."
He rose, walked to a cabinet behind his desk, and pulled out a sleek black diary. Charles's sharp eyes caught sight of another book beside it—Advanced Dark Arts.
Thanks to Heisong Evergreen for the generous hundred-point tip!Much appreciated, boss!
(End of Chapter)