During a casual chat with the visiting staff from the Wizarding Examinations Authority, Douglas quickly picked up on an undercurrent: these professors were, intentionally or not, hinting that the Ministry of Magic harbored significant criticisms of Hogwarts' educational standards.
Yet, the Examinations Authority themselves seemed rather indifferent to the Ministry's grumbling.
This sparked an idea in Douglas's mind—one he'd need to discuss with Professor Dumbledore at the right moment.
Apart from the Authority's staff, there were also reporters and photographers from the Daily Prophet covering the Hogwarts exams. They showed up nearly every year for O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. week. Douglas glanced over at the unfamiliar journalist, but paid them little mind.
The exam routine was unchanged: written tests in the morning, practicals in the afternoon. Defence Against the Dark Arts wouldn't be tested until Thursday. Meanwhile, the magical study room was packed to the rafters; Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick spent every spare moment after class coaching the fifth and seventh years.
The Authority's professors each had their own take after touring the study room. Some believed that motivational banners truly helped spur students to self-study. Others insisted that wizarding ability was a matter of talent: all the pressure in the world couldn't make a great wizard out of someone without the gift.
After the first day's Herbology exam wrapped up, Douglas found Professor McGonagall and together they made their way to the headmaster's office, where Douglas laid out his thoughts.
"From today's conversations with the Examinations Authority, I've gathered that the Ministry has its own opinions about Hogwarts. They seem to think the school has become your personal fiefdom, Professor Dumbledore, and that your influence is why so few top graduates choose to serve the Ministry these days."
In truth, things weren't nearly so dire. Each year, plenty of talented graduates still chose the Ministry. After all, it was the most coveted career path in the wizarding world.
But Minister Fudge was eager to fill the Ministry with young wizards loyal to him, gradually replacing the old guard and freeing himself from Dumbledore's shadow. That's why he was always searching for faults in Dumbledore's leadership.
According to the Authority's professors, Fudge had privately complained more than once that Dumbledore was getting on in years and that his choices for Defence Against the Dark Arts professors were increasingly unfit for the job.
Dumbledore himself seemed unconcerned by Fudge's mutterings, but Douglas knew he couldn't afford to ignore them.
Given that Dumbledore and Fudge were still, at least publicly, on good terms, Douglas left out some of the more pointed criticisms.
Dumbledore blinked, a smile tugging at his lips. "I believe every Hogwarts graduate should be free to choose their future."
Douglas shrugged, helpless. "Which is precisely why the Ministry thinks there's something wrong with Hogwarts' education. I suspect they'll try to plant their own people here—raise students who share their values, perhaps even maneuver their own candidate into the headmaster's chair, and bring Hogwarts under Ministry control."
Professor McGonagall gave a disdainful snort. "Typical politicians. Hogwarts is a place for young witches and wizards to learn. The headmaster isn't a position just anyone can claim."
She shot Douglas a sharp look. "I don't recall you ever working at the Ministry. Where did you pick up such a taste for political intrigue?"
Douglas gazed at the ceiling and let out a long sigh. "Wherever there are people, there's politics."
Dumbledore found Douglas's world-weariness rather amusing, but offered a gentle reassurance, "From what I know, Fudge wouldn't go that far. Even when it came to the basilisk incident, he said that since this is Hogwarts, the Aurors would defer to the school's arrangements."
Douglas was at a loss—he couldn't tell if Dumbledore was simply overconfident, or if Fudge was just that skilled at currying favor. He suspected the latter. In fact, he sometimes wondered if Fudge's rise to power hadn't been quietly supported by Dumbledore himself. After all, Fudge was always writing to Dumbledore for advice, leaning shamelessly on his reputation. Without Dumbledore's tacit blessing, Fudge could never have held onto the Minister's office for so many years.
With that thought, Douglas decided to stop beating around the bush and got straight to the point:
"Actually, what I'd like is for all the Hogwarts professors to work with the Wizarding Examinations Authority to publish a set of books—Seven Years of N.E.W.T.s, Five Years of O.W.L.s."
Seeing their puzzled expressions, Douglas explained, "This series would cover all eight core subjects and six electives at Hogwarts, along with years' worth of N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. exam questions—both theory and practical. With these materials, our fifth and seventh years could revise with clear targets in mind."
Professor McGonagall's face darkened. "Douglas, how is that any different from cheating? The exam content is in the textbooks. If students would just memorize everything in the book and practice every spell their professors teach, they'd have no trouble with the exams."
Douglas countered, "Professor McGonagall, we've had monthly exams for a whole term now. What do you think of the results?"
She considered. "Very good. After each test, students can pinpoint their weaknesses and we can spot who hasn't mastered certain Transfiguration spells. I expect we won't see any basic magical errors on this year's O.W.L.s. Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout have both praised the system. But the problem is, creating all those questions takes up a lot of the professors' time."
Douglas nodded. "Exactly. That's why I want to work with the Examinations Authority—they already have question banks. Our role would mainly be to explain the answers. Since we'd be using old questions, they'd just need to write a new set each year, so Seven Years of N.E.W.T.s, Five Years of O.W.L.s would always be up to date.
Even more importantly, the Authority's professors each have other roles in the wizarding world. They can set questions that reflect the current state of things. We professors keep up with the news, but when it comes to practical, real-world applications, we might still fall short.
And, of course, the best part is—we'd never have to write our own exam questions again."
Dumbledore glanced at the pensive Professor McGonagall, popped a sweet into his mouth, and winked at Douglas.
Douglas smiled awkwardly, realizing that, when it came to practical matters, it was better to approach Professor McGonagall directly—Dumbledore never seemed too fussed about the day-to-day of teaching.
McGonagall snapped out of her thoughts. "I doubt the Hogwarts staff would object, but how can you be sure the Examinations Authority will agree?"
Douglas chuckled—that was the heart of the matter. "That's where Headmaster Dumbledore and Minister Fudge come in. I'm sure Minister Fudge would be happy to support a suggestion from the headmaster."
Dumbledore nodded, the sweet in his mouth not muffling his words in the slightest. "I'll bring it up with Fudge. Of course, we'll respect their decision. If they're unwilling—"
Douglas cut in quickly, "Then we'll drop it. I'll just use this approach in Defence Against the Dark Arts from now on!"
Professor McGonagall shot him a disapproving look—as if he were implying the other professors were lazy—but she understood his good intentions.
The truth was, the standard of teaching in some Hogwarts subjects had slipped badly in recent years, which had led to a noticeable decline in the magical skills of Ministry staff. The Ministry had complained about this more than once. If not for Dumbledore's presence, they'd probably have interfered with Hogwarts' management long ago.
Douglas's goal was simple: if the Ministry wanted to meddle, why not give them a way in—on Hogwarts' terms? After all, Seven Years of N.E.W.T.s, Five Years of O.W.L.s would become a kind of internal textbook, officially sanctioned by the Ministry. They could use it to slip in their own ideology if they wanted.
But where there are policies, there are always countermeasures. The right to interpret the exam questions would remain with the Hogwarts professors.
In the end, all the Ministry would achieve is making students resent their interference even more.
Another benefit: it might focus the Ministry's attention on the Examinations Authority, serving as a buffer between Hogwarts and the Minister. Maybe, in the future, instead of having to deal with a High Inquisitor from Hogwarts, they'd get an Examinations Authority High Inquisitor instead—a much less intrusive option.
The only real unknown was how the Ministry would behave after Voldemort's return. But that was still two years away—plenty of time to find a solution.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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