Cookies
Chuuya was aware of the mission. Yes, he was informed of it before being sent off to France with his brother to play the role he was asked to. Dazai was there, which was a good thing because Arahabaki had been pretty upset since he left. His cover story includes the name of another wizarding school that he was forced to remember. Beauxbatons Academy for Magic.
His cover story was simple. Chuuya is the son of a muggle and a witch who had died during... Yeah no, he didn’t remember the title the dude had- his name was what... Baldymort? Yeah. His reign. Since then, he was adopted by some abusive old community adoption place before being taken in by Paul once the latter turned eighteen. His... brother. There was a knock on the door as Chuuya was putting away his curling iron. Paul was busy on a call (probably with one of his subordinates- Chuuya could tell by the volume of it), so he took it upon himself to answer the door. A man with a long, light grey beard and shining blue eyes behind half-moon glasses stood there. He spoke in English.
“Ah, hello.”
Chuuya made sure to keep the door only half open. Precautions. And to make his act more convincing. His eyes narrowed at the old man and the latter took the time to assess him.
“Is this the home of,” He checked the paper in his hand, “Chuuya Nakahara?”
“...Yes, that’s me. Who are you?”
He seemed (pleasantly) surprised that Chuuya spoke English. And, for a second there, did he think that Chuuya was someone else? Was it his height? He nervously looked over his shoulder when Paul yelled a little louder than usual. The old man noticed this, but the twinkle in his eyes never lessened. Yeah, there was something weird with him.
“Albus Dumbledore. The principal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I Believed you received an owl?”
Ah. He would totally have this door slammed on his face if it weren’t for this mission. Who just... admits that? Out loud? Is he under impression Chuuya would willingly learn that shit? What is it, waving a wand around while saying some random (not so random) Latin words? Also, what’s this thing about owls? By his confused look, Dumbledore looked a little embarrassed.
“...I don’t quite get what you’re talking about. Give me a second to go get Paul. Maybe he knows something about this whole thing. Please excuse me.”
He closed the door softly and set down the hall. The two of them had been living in this house for a few months now, but Paul had owned it long before then. Chuuya managed to convince the latter to get out of the basement and helped move his office upstairs. He thought it would help that bastard to get off of work, but it didn’t quite go well. Now that Paul had a comfortable bed and his set-up in the same room, he oftentimes locks himself in his room for days (Only unlocking it but never leaving it when Chuuya- the better cook between the two of them, decided on early on- gave him his meals) when he didn’t have to work in person.
He glanced at the kitchen timer after he heard it ticking. Almost done. He went upstairs and peered at the front door from his window. Dumbledore was still there, his eyes trained on the front door. He closed the curtains and knocked on Paul’s door. He knew the latter noticed but still finished up the phone call before answering.
“...Yes, Chuuya? Please don’t say you’re going to try force me to go somewhere with you.”
“No, that was a disaster last time. Some man named Albus Dumbledore is at the door. Apparently, he sent you an owl?”
“Oh, Shit. Already?”
“Hurry up and get changed. I’m going to invite him in.”
The door slammed (not too loudly) and Chuuya shrugged it off before returning to the front door. Dumbledore looked the same as always but took the time to observe Chuuya fully when he opened the door fully. He had definitely heard that door but slamming doors had been a very common thing between the two of them recently.
“...Paul said that he wasn’t expecting you to come so soon. Please, come in.”
Dumbledore followed him inside and sat down across from him in the open living room. The loss of frantic shuffling upstairs meant that Paul was on his way. Just as he made it to the living room, the kitchen timer went off. Chuuya clumsily got up, excused himself with a subtle tilt of his head and went off to the kitchen.
He took a glance over at Dumbledore and Paul while busying himself with organizing the food on the plate. Dumbledore had his (what he’s assuming) signature glint in his eyes and bright smile, but his eyes were downturned. Paul looked as he always did but add the fact that he was assessing Dumbledore. He cleared his throat and presented Dumbledore with a smile instead.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr. Dumbledore. I wasn’t expecting you to come along the day after you replied to me.”
“Yes. It’s a pleasure as well, Mr. Nakahara.”
Ah... It probably didn’t occur to him that they don’t share a last name. He was aware that the name he was using as his original name (that he’ll have to pretend he didn’t know- Kashimura) did really belong to a man who married a witch. They did have a son (who died alongside them) as well. But Dumbledore didn’t know that. No, only Baldymort would, aside from the Mafia.
“...Mr. Verlaine, actually.”
“Ah! Apologies for my insensitivity.”
Chuuya came back in as Dumbledore started explaining the aspects of magic. Both he and Paul paid quite the amount of attention- it would help the mission, after all. He placed the plate of cooled down cookies on the table between them while he sat next to Paul. Dumbledore reached for one right away, seemingly swayed into favor by the chocolate chip flavoring, but Paul raised an eyebrow.
“This doesn’t have sedatives in it again, does it?”
“Not at all. I’m not too keen on getting grounded for a fortnight again. Plus, we ran out of them last night.”
“...Having trouble sleeping, again? At this rate, you’ll grow an immunity to them. Plus, we wouldn’t be out if you and... Your friend didn’t put them in the cookies last time.”
“It was a harmless prank!”
“It put my work a whole day behind. Not only mine, but the rest of the higher-ups who attended that meeting were fast asleep by the end of it, leaving the two of you with free reign. You’re lucky I didn’t get any blame from that.”
Dumbledore didn’t seem too affected by the conversation, having already eaten three of the cookies and quickly approaching a fourth. Paul picked one up just before Chuuya did, while Dumbledore slowly moved the conversation back to Hogwarts. It was decided rather quickly that magic was real (and Chuuya was completely right about the whole thing. Latin, of all things, seriously?) And that Paul trusted Dumbledore to take Chuuya shopping for supplies the following day. All according to plan.
While Chuuya was leading Dumbledore back outside (Paul had returned to his room to shut himself in after very dramatically placing a lot of money on the bench) he lost himself in the rabbit hole that was his own thoughts. Arahabaki seemed quite pleased with the fact that he would be able to see Dazai again (as shown by their silence). Once Dumbledore’s gone, no doubt they’ll start celebrating.
“Would you mind sharing the ingredients for those cookies? My staff would love to try them.”
“Unfortunately, due to the trust the shitty mackerel put in me, I am unable to tell you. However, if I get access to the kitchen and the right ingredients, I'd be more than willing to bake them for you and your staff.”
He was surprised he said that, completely on autopilot. But the way it came out... Yeah, no, that would probably give that away instantly. Stiff, like cardboard. That's the only way to describe it. But he managed to zone back into the world in time to see Dumbledore disappear from his front door.
“...What the fuck?”
No one’s going to believe him if he said that, seeing as he was the only witness. He closed the door again and prepared himself for a long night.