Man of Archives

The second date—or rather, the second part of the first date—with Nymphadora went well. Overall, I’m glad she’s matured since her Hogwarts graduation, but I’m also happy she’s still the same Nymphadora I once helped.

 

I visited Hermione, who was still studying theory. She was pleased to see me and immediately began explaining how she felt and whether anything had changed. Naturally, she feels much better now, even better than before, which is expected after taking Panacea. We haven’t started practicing yet, although I did ask her to wave her wand.

 

That’s when we encountered a problem: the wand she currently has no longer suits her. This means we’ll need to get her a new one for effective magic. That won’t be an issue. We agreed to visit Ollivander’s soon.

 

The responses from the Hogwarts professors who received gifts from me were pleasant. Some replied with a cool tone, like Professor Snape; others with gratitude, like Professor Flitwick, and warmth, like Professor McGonagall. The only one who surprised me was Hagrid. Not only did he send me a long thank-you letter (I won’t ask where he got the paper from…), but he also sent several bundles of herbs and some rock cakes as a token of his appreciation.

 

Speaking of rock cakes, they turned out to be quite tasty, although to eat them, I had to brew a special tea. After dunking the cakes in the tea for a few seconds, they softened into normal food.

 

A reply from Isolde arrived a bit later, as she’s currently not on the islands but somewhere in mainland Europe, attending a Charms workshop. She thanked me for the gift and even sent a “blown kiss” with a lipstick mark on the paper. That was a nice touch.

 

Brock didn’t respond immediately either, as he’s currently swamped with work. He invited me to go on another hunt with him or complete a few Guild tasks. I neither agreed nor declined. For now, I have no desire to hunt magical creatures. Maybe in the future, if I feel the need.

 

With all that, I had enough time to continue my research on the Philosopher’s Stone, visit Stormhammer Fortress to download books for analysis, and keep myself busy with magical research.

 

That’s why the time for my meeting with Dumbledore snuck up on me. By evening, I Apparated to Hogsmeade and immediately spotted Hogwarts in the distance, bathed in the light of the setting sun against a pale blue sky. There weren’t many people around. The students were likely inside the school, resting or heading to dinner. The villagers were either preparing for the next day or heading to a pub to discuss the day's events or their future plans.

 

I entered the restaurant, which was somewhat tucked away, and glanced around. A few distinguished gentlemen, cigarettes in hand, were loudly discussing the latest Quidditch match between England and Ireland. I walked past them, entered further into the restaurant, and immediately spotted Dumbledore sitting in the far corner, his back to the wall. He waved me over.

 

Nodding to the waitress, I made my way to the headmaster.

 

“Good evening, Headmaster,” I greeted him with a nod. He smirked and gestured for me to take the seat across from him.

 

“And good evening to you, Timothy,” he nodded back. “I really liked your gift. Thank you very much.”

 

I grinned at that. Of course, he liked the gift—it was sweets I had bought in New York.

 

“I remember being in New York a few decades ago,” the headmaster mused. “It was quite an amusing time. Can you believe I ended up at the wedding of a witch and a Muggle?”

 

“Wow,” I raised an eyebrow. “Did the witch enchant him?”

 

“No,” Dumbledore shook his head. “It was true love.”

 

“Really?” I replied, somewhat impressed. “That doesn’t happen often.”

 

“Indeed,” he agreed. “I also watched your master class on Transfiguration. Excellent work.”

 

“Thank you, Headmaster,” I said. “And how has your year been?”

 

“Oh, nothing much,” he waved it off, though his gaze clouded for a moment as if remembering something. “Nothing unusual.”

 

“I recently met with Hermione, by the way,” I mentioned.

 

“Ah, young Miss Granger,” he sighed. “How is she?”

 

“She’s doing exceptionally well,” I nodded, noticing a brief flicker of surprise on his face, followed by a quick realization that vanished just as quickly.

 

“Panacea?” he said, his voice dropping to just one word.

 

“Yes,” I nodded. “So, what exactly happened at Hogwarts that required me to use such an expensive potion?”

 

“A basilisk crawled out of the toilet,” the headmaster said calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “An ancient basilisk, to be precise.”

 

“Hmm, cool,” I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief.

 

At that moment, a young waitress approached, immediately batting her eyelashes at Dumbledore.

 

“Gentlemen, are you ready to order?” she asked.

 

“The usual for me,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

 

“Of course, a stuffed Napoleon with sweetened condensed milk,” she nodded, then turned to me. “And for you, sir?”

 

“What would you recommend? Or perhaps you have a menu?”

 

“Of course, I’ll bring one right away,” she said, waving her wand and softly saying, “Accio Menu,” summoning a small paper menu. “Here you go.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

I quickly skimmed through the menu, noticing that most of the options were various sweets, pies, and cakes. There was a smaller selection of regular food.

 

“Headmaster, can you recommend something?” I asked, figuring he was a regular here and would know what was good.

 

“Hmm,” Dumbledore thought for a moment. “If you’re in the mood for something meaty, I’d suggest the Nigerian Mask. Or, if you want something unique, try the Indian Train.”

 

“I’ll go with something simple—potatoes with bacon.”

 

“Of course,” the waitress nodded. “Would you like to order any drinks?”

 

“I’ll have the Troll Elixir,” Dumbledore said.

 

“I’ll take apple juice.”

 

She quickly noted everything down and disappeared into the kitchen to place our orders.

 

“So, as I understand it, Hermione Granger will return to Hogwarts next year?” the headmaster asked.

 

“Yes,” I nodded. “I’ll catch her up on the second-year material, both in practice and theory, if necessary.”

 

“Wonderful,” Dumbledore nodded. “Minerva speaks very highly of her. She believes Hermione has a bright future in theoretical magic.”

 

“Perhaps,” I agreed.

 

Dumbledore fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. Just then, our food arrived. Dumbledore’s dish was an unusual cake shaped like the number nine, with the round part facing me and the thick stem pointing toward him. The cake had odd ridges slightly protruding from the surface, and on the right side of the round part was a sprinkling of black chocolate shavings.

 

The headmaster took a spoon, ran it along the stem of the cake, and pressed down gently. A thick white liquid began to ooze out of the stem. He collected the liquid with his spoon and savored it slowly. I leaned back slightly, eyeing the cake with growing suspicion.

 

I never would have guessed that Dumbledore had such peculiar tastes. It’s strange to think someone like him could be the headmaster of a school full of children.

 

“Hmm,” he moaned in satisfaction. “This milk… is so delicious. Want to try some?”

 

“I think I’ll pass,” I said, shaking my head.

 

“As you wish,” the wizard nodded, returning to his cake and squeezing more condensed milk from it.

 

At that moment, my own meal arrived, along with Dumbledore’s drink. His drink came in a strange container that resembled an erect phallus—two round orbs filled with a grayish liquid, and a tall cylinder between them with a metal straw sticking out. He sipped from the straw as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 

After a while, Dumbledore began eating his cake with a spoon.

 

“I heard you’ve mastered Charms,” Dumbledore said finally, once he finished eating. “Congratulations. That’s quite an achievement.”

 

“Well, I had to work hard for it,” I replied, showing him the ring symbolizing my mastery of Charms. The headmaster nodded approvingly.

 

“That’s good,” he said thoughtfully. “You’re much more talented than I was at your age. Have you thought about what to do next? More mastery, or perhaps focusing on a research topic?”

 

“That’s a good question, Headmaster,” I said, pausing to consider for a moment. Given the various domains of magic, the best option for me would be to pursue mastery in Potions. “Potions. I’d like to earn a title in that subject.”

 

“Not a bad choice,” he nodded. “I might even have a potential teacher for you.”

 

“Severus Snape?” I asked.

 

“No, no,” he shook his head. “If you’re serious about studying Potions, I can put you in touch with someone else.”

 

The headmaster certainly wouldn’t recommend someone unqualified, so why not? Though, I had no idea what this potential mentor might ask in return. Honestly, I can’t even imagine what he could want.

 

“Headmaster, may I ask why you’re helping me?” I inquired.

 

“You know, Timothy,” he began, his tone suddenly serious, “once, a long time ago, I refused to help a talented Hogwarts student. He went off to seek knowledge on his own… and that didn’t lead to anything good. That student was incredibly gifted, but he dedicated his life to destruction.”

 

“Hmm,” I muttered in response. “Then yes, I’d like to study Potions, and a mentor would certainly help.”

 

“Excellent,” the headmaster smiled broadly. “I’ll reach out to my acquaintance and see what he says.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

From there, our conversation turned to various Transfiguration topics of mutual interest, as well as my progress in combat magic and martial arts. Dumbledore suggested that I return to Malta to complete my training there. After a warm farewell, we parted ways.

 

Since the headmaster had invited me to the meeting, he insisted on paying for all the food, though my order wasn’t particularly expensive.

 

When I got home and checked the mail, I found a letter addressed to me. It was from Lucia de Mendoza, congratulating me on achieving mastery in Transfiguration and Charms. Apparently, one of her distant relatives works in the Charms Guild in the U.S. She also invited me to visit her whenever I had the time.

 

Honestly, I hadn’t expected to receive such a letter, but it was nice to know I hadn’t been forgotten.

 

The next few days were spent on research, but I quickly realized that working in my room—constantly setting up and taking down my laboratory—wasn’t the most efficient way to go about it. I needed a proper, permanent lab for conducting experiments. This meant I needed my own space.

 

That brought me back to the idea of needing personal property. If I couldn’t buy an already developed magical plot, then I’d have to create my own. And if I was going to build a home for myself, I would need to do it on my own—laying the wards, constructing the walls, and preparing everything. For that, I needed knowledge of magical architecture. And what would that require? Knowledge.

 

With this goal in mind, I headed to Diagon Alley, straight to the bookstore, to search for information on how to construct magical buildings. There were plenty of interesting books to help me with this, so I immediately began reading and analyzing them.

 

As I delved deeper into the subject, I was surprised to discover how much I didn’t know about certain aspects of magic. Yes, I had a good understanding of runes, but that wasn’t enough. My knowledge of Arithmancy was also lacking. These gaps forced me to make more trips to the bookstore to stock up on books for further study.

 

“Tap-tap-tap.”

 

It was the sound of a beak knocking on glass. I opened the window, allowing a small but proud owl to fly into the room and perch on the chair. It held out its leg, where a letter was attached.

 

“Hoot!” the owl cooed.

 

“Are you hungry?” I asked, pulling out some leftover owl treats.

 

The owl nodded.

 

I poured some treats into a small dish and opened the letter. It was from someone named Horace Slughorn. He mentioned that he had heard from the Hogwarts headmaster that I was interested in studying Potions. He wanted to know if I was still interested and invited me to discuss my education further.

 

Quickly scribbling a response, I sent the owl back. After closing the window, I returned to analyzing the book on magical architecture.

 

The next day, I called Hermione to ask if she wanted to go buy a new wand. During this time, she had been diligently studying second-year material. She was delighted by the offer and immediately agreed.

 

After giving her some time to get ready, I Apparated to the Grangers' home and picked up the young student. Over the past few weeks, she had grown even more radiant, practically glowing with happiness. It seemed like all her insecurities and personal doubts had vanished. I was sure she, like most girls her age, had been self-conscious about her appearance. But now… it was different. She could easily outshine many models her age.

 

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

 

“I’ve never felt this good,” she replied. “It’s like I’ve been born again.”

 

“Well, that’s great,” I chuckled. “So, are you ready?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then hold onto my hand tightly.”

 

She grabbed my hand, and we were swept away by Apparition. We arrived in a small alley, and I quickly pulled her aside to avoid colliding with a young boy who was running past.

 

“Sorry!” the boy shouted as he ducked down and disappeared from sight.

 

“What was that?” Hermione asked, surprised.

 

“One of the oddities of the magical world,” I responded calmly. “Magical anomalies can pop up in the most unexpected places.”

 

“Magical anomalies?” Hermione frowned. “What’s that? I’ve never read about anything like that in any of the magical books I’ve studied.”

 

“It’s a complicated subject,” I began as we made our way toward Ollivander’s shop. And since we had the time, why not tell her something interesting? “You need to focus on what magical energy is, where it comes from, and what the difference is between wizards and Muggles. So, what do you think magic is?”

 

“Well,” Hermione hesitated, furrowing her brow. She didn’t have an answer, which was understandable.

 

“I get why you’re stuck,” I sighed. “There’s no single, definitive answer to that question. For some, magic is simply a way to live carefree; for others, it’s a mystical force. Some see it as an art. The answer for each wizard will be personal and complex.”

 

“What is magic to you?” Hermione asked.

 

“An opportunity,” I replied quickly, though I paused for a moment, wondering if that was the right answer. “Yes, an opportunity. But again, I’ll say this—each person must decide for themselves what magic means to them. Maybe it’s just a set of methods to change the real world and its laws.”

 

“Then what is magical energy?” Hermione asked, following up.

 

“It’s what allows us to perform magic,” I explained simply. “It’s present in wizards, magical creatures, and can even exist on its own. And it’s because of this energy that anomalies sometimes occur. It’s not a complete answer, but it’s something.”

 

“Then what’s the difference between wizards and regular people?” Hermione pressed.

 

“The ability to manipulate this magical energy,” I answered, giving her the straightforward version of a much more complicated concept.

 

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes, clearly expecting more. “Anything else?”

 

“I’ll give you a book on magical theory later,” I said calmly. “Read it, and you’ll find the answer yourself.”

 

At that moment, we entered Ollivander’s shop. It was dusty, as usual, but everything was well cared for.

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” came an energetic voice from the back.

 

In about ten seconds, Garrick Ollivander appeared. He was an elderly man with hair sticking out in all directions, and his sharp eyes immediately scanned both Hermione and me. He paused on her.

 

“Mr. Jody, Miss Granger,” he greeted. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

 

“Good day,” Hermione said politely.

 

“What brings you here?” Ollivander asked, curious.

 

“Miss Granger needs a new wand,” I explained.

 

“Ah, vine wood and dragon heartstring, right?” Ollivander said. “Ten and three-quarters inches. What happened?”

 

“Some magical events occurred with Hermione,” I said calmly. “And now she needs a new wand.”

 

“Well, let’s see what we can find,” he said. “Miss Granger, please demonstrate a spell.”

 

Hermione gave me a questioning look. I nodded, encouraging her to proceed.

 

“Lumos,” she said, her voice slightly shaky. The spell worked powerfully. “Nox.”

 

“Well, well,” Ollivander muttered. “Miss Granger, you do indeed need a new wand. And I think I have just the right one for you.”

 

Ollivander disappeared into the shelves, quickly climbing a ladder that appeared at the far end of the room.

 

“Hmm-hmm-hmm,” he hummed as he ran his fingers over the boxes. He picked up one, squinted, then nodded to himself before moving further down the shelves to grab another box. “No, no, no, not this one. Ah, there!”

 

The wandmaker slid back down, grabbed one more box, then another, and finally a fourth. Nodding in satisfaction, he returned with the boxes.

 

“Let’s try these,” he said, handing over the first wand. “Hornbeam wood with a veela hair core. Very dreamy, but always on target.”

 

Hermione repeated the Lumos spell. This time, it came more easily, and it felt more natural. But even so, it was clear, even to me, that it wasn’t quite the right match for her.

 

“Hmm, no,” Ollivander agreed with me, though I hadn’t said a word. “How about this one? Hornbeam and unicorn hair?”

 

Hermione tried again, but this time the spell worked even worse. Still not right.

 

“Perhaps hornbeam and vampus hair?” Ollivander mused, handing her the next wand. This one suited her much better. The magic felt smooth and elegant. The spell flowed from the wand even before she completed the movement.

 

Buying the wand was quite affordable, so I had no problem paying for Hermione. She was truly delighted with her new magical tool. Afterward, I took her to Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlor, where I began quizzing her about the material she had been studying. It turned out she had many questions, and I did my best to answer them. Charms and Transfiguration were the easiest subjects for me, as I had mastered them, but the other subjects were progressing well too, though not as smoothly as I would have liked.

 

Once I was confident that her knowledge was at a sufficient level, we headed to the familiar training grounds. The same old man was there, pretending not to recognize me and showing no interest in Hermione.

 

There, Hermione began practicing her spells, slowly returning to her former status as the best student in her year. Of course, you can’t get back into shape in just one day, but the important thing is to start, and the rest will follow with time. And not giving up, of course—but that goes without saying.

 

Hermione was thrilled with how the day had gone. Honestly, I hadn’t expected to spend so much time, but it was worth it. Now I had a clear idea of her knowledge level. Let’s just say she knows a lot more than I did at her age. Hermione turned out to be incredibly eager to learn, with a remarkable ability to absorb vast amounts of information. You could even call her a magical genius, if not for one caveat—she was born to non-magical parents, and that always makes things harder. I might be an exception because of the Archive’s magic.

 

After dropping her off at home and handing her over to her parents, I returned home and began preparing for my meeting with Slughorn.

 

Horace Slughorn is famous for being a Potions Master. The Potions Master, in fact. He’s taught the best Potions Masters in England. The most famous of his students is Snape, currently the youngest Potions Master.

 

Horace Slughorn lives in a large house outside of London. If I’m not mistaken, he’s the last heir of the Slughorn family, with no children and none expected in the future. He’s the last of the Slughorns. The wars his family fought in, followed by Voldemort’s reign of terror, wiped out many magical families. The Slughorns were one such family.

 

Arriving at the large gates, I waited. They opened almost immediately, allowing me to enter Slughorn’s estate. The sensation of the warding spells wasn’t particularly pleasant, but I would have used similar measures to ensure my own safety.

 

The house itself appeared suddenly, as if it had leaped out from around the corner. Or maybe it really had... I felt a shift in space. It would be interesting to study how and why that happens the way it does.

 

As I approached the door, it opened, revealing a short, slightly chubby man with a small bald spot on his head. He held a glass of some drink I couldn’t immediately identify.

 

“Timothy Jody?” he asked.

 

“Yes, that’s me,” I nodded.

 

“Come in, come in,” he waved, inviting me inside. “No need to take off your shoes.”

 

Inside, the house was just as intriguing as the exterior. Moving portraits hung on the walls, between which were mounted house-elf heads, their eyes wide open, staring blankly into the distance.

 

“As you’ve probably gathered, my name is Horace Slughorn,” the man introduced himself. “I heard from Headmaster Dumbledore that you’re interested in studying Potions. Is that right?”

 

“Yes,” I nodded. “I want to learn proper potion-making.”

 

“Mmm,” Slughorn nodded. “Then let’s sit down and discuss things more thoroughly.”

 

We moved into a large room with a view of the inner courtyard. In the center, there was a small pond surrounded by a few trees, and magical birds casually strolled around.

 

Snacks and drinks appeared on the table in front of us.

 

“It’s good that you want to advance your knowledge in Potions,” Slughorn began. “I already know about your mastery in Transfiguration and Charms, so I’m pleased to meet someone so talented.”

 

“I’m glad to meet you too,” I nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about your work in Potions, especially with the Felix Felicis potion.”

 

“Ah,” he nodded proudly. “That was a wonderful time when I was actively researching. Now I’ve toned it down a bit and enjoy my old age. But enough about me. Tell me, why do you think you need to earn another mastery?”

 

“Potions are an incredibly important part of any wizard’s life, and I don’t think striving for advanced knowledge in this field is a bad thing. I believe every wizard should aim to study all branches of magic to truly call themselves a wizard.”

 

“Mmm,” Slughorn nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. So, how much time are you willing to dedicate to Potions training?”

 

I answered this question somewhat vaguely because it was hard to give a straightforward response. I didn’t have any specific plans at the moment, but I knew that in the future, I’d need to tackle various other matters. One of those might be continuing my studies in Malta… but for that, I’d need to gather some additional funds, as it wouldn’t be cheap.

 

We continued our conversation, shifting to more magical topics and general life. Slughorn wasn’t the most exciting person to talk to, as he had only left the country once in his life—for a master class in France. The rest of his life had been spent in England, gathering a club of influential people. And about that club, as I soon learned, he could talk for hours. I won’t say the club isn’t fascinating—it is. It’s full of wizards who hold significant positions in society, including well-known Quidditch players, talented wizards, Ministry workers, and members of ancient magical families. It’s a mix of people with high social capital.

 

“In general, I think we’ll get along,” Slughorn nodded after we had finished our third cup of tea and dried fruit. “But I can only start your training in a year.”

 

“Why the delay?” I asked, surprised.

 

“I already have a student at the moment,” he said, with a slight note of regret in his voice. “So, you’ll have to wait a year. In the meantime, I can give you plenty of reading material that will provide you with an understanding of more advanced potions. What do you say?”

 

“That sounds good,” I nodded, accepting his offer. What else could I do? I wasn’t about to refuse. He might have something interesting.

 

“Excellent,” he nodded, allowing himself a smile. “I’ll send you the materials once I’ve gathered them all.”

 

“Is there anything else I need to do?” I asked. “Materials, cauldrons, perhaps?”

 

“No need to rush into that,” he shook his head. “For now, during this year, you can focus on other things.”

 

I could only nod at that. What else was there to say? He was right.

 

After thanking him for his time and his offer to begin lessons in a year, I headed home. I still had other things to attend to. When I got back, I found some distant relatives visiting. This little distraction pulled me in for a while, as everyone was eager to hear about my travels.

 

I need money. I already have a lot of knowledge, but I still don’t have enough for a normal existence. And on top of that, I need to finally conduct the Superanalysis.

 

How can a wizard earn money? There are two ways—legal and illegal. I think that’s the case in every world. The legal path for me is to take on guild orders for masters. Such tasks aren’t very common, to be honest. Most jobs are for wizards of lower ranks. For me, the pay wouldn’t be very high. There’s also the option of producing some unique product and selling it, but for now, I don’t have any ideas for my own production.

 

Of course, I could borrow money from others, but that’s not the best option, as I’d have to pay it back later.

 

What if I went down the illegal path? The question isn’t what I’ll do with the money afterward, but how to get it in the first place. Who has enough money to make it worth my while? Moreover, I need to figure out exactly how much money I need. Five thousand galleons? Ten? Maybe a hundred thousand?

 

As I thought about this, I remembered a witch from the Netherlands… she has stashes of money I could take. But that’s not enough for me. There’s barely five thousand galleons there. I could take that, but then I’d have to find something else.

 

Another option is to use the Philosopher’s Stone to create gold. But how much gold would I get if the Stone is consumed in the process, just like when making Panacea? It’s too costly a solution.

 

Exchanging Muggle money isn’t a great idea either, as the more pounds I want to exchange, the worse the rate gets.

 

In short, there aren’t many viable options for quickly earning the money I need, other than pulling off a simple “yours is now mine” trick somewhere.

 

I never thought I’d have to think about this.

 

***

 

Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts, gazing at the portraits of the previous headmasters. His mind was occupied with many thoughts, but most of them revolved around one person: Timothy Jody, a former Hogwarts student.

 

Albus knew very well that after achieving mastery so quickly, it was easy to fall into the trap of arrogance, but that hadn’t happened. This surprised him. As it turned out, Timothy hadn’t lost a shred of common sense, unlike Tom Riddle, who had after his own world tour.

 

The conversation in the restaurant had been productive. It became clear afterward that the young man had no intention of stopping in his development or his quest for knowledge. Deciding to study Potions was a big choice that not everyone would make. Yes, his old friend Slughorn had warned that he could only take on a new student in a year, but even that waiting period didn’t deter Timothy.

 

“Hmph,” he muttered, pulling out a dish of sweets from his cabinet. Allowing himself a moment of relaxation, he let go of all his thoughts and began enjoying the delicious lemon drops. Just then, his phoenix flew over and gave him a reproachful look. “Alright, alright. Here you go.”

 

He poured some treats into the phoenix’s dish.

 

“Hoot!” the bird cooed in gratitude, tapping its beak on the dish as it devoured the sweets.

 

“What do you think, my dear Fawkes,” Dumbledore addressed his phoenix. “What plans do you think Timothy has for the future?”

 

“Coo-coo-hoo,” the phoenix replied after a few moments of thought. “Coo-hoo.”

 

“Females?” Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t compare yourself to him. You might need a mate, but he may need something else.”

 

“Coo-coo.”

 

“Don’t be pushy,” the headmaster chided. “You know I’ve always had trouble with the opposite sex.”

 

“Coo-hoo-coo-hoo-hoo-hoo-coo-hoo,” the phoenix trilled confidently.

 

“Magic, you say?” the headmaster asked.

 

The phoenix remained silent, but opened its wings slightly before tucking them back in.

 

“You know, Fawkes, I think you’re right,” Dumbledore mused. “If he didn’t love magic so much, he wouldn’t have been able to master Charms and Transfiguration at such a young age. He’s not even twenty yet… I think.”

 

Dumbledore drifted back into his thoughts. He had much more to ponder. For instance, Hogwarts needed a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, as the last one had died. The statistics for Defense teachers over the past two years weren’t exactly encouraging. The first had been killed by young Harry Potter. The second had died because of a situation involving Harry Potter. Once is a fluke, but twice is a pattern. They needed someone who could teach well, knew the subject thoroughly, but also wouldn’t be missed too much if they met a mysterious end.

 

His next thought was about Hermione Granger. She was indeed a talented girl, and what had happened to her wasn’t the worst outcome. But after receiving Panacea, she would return to Hogwarts as a stronger witch, capable of achieving even better results in her studies. As a politician—a mask he didn’t wear too often—he wished he could claim such talent as his own. But… Hermione wasn’t his student, not his family, just a school pupil. She was under the wing of someone else entirely, a young man who had already made a name for himself in the magical world as the “first violin” of the future.

 

When Timothy first arrived at Hogwarts, no one could have predicted that this Muggle-born boy would one day storm into the magical world like a whirlwind.

 

Dumbledore understood all too well that he wasn’t immortal, unlike his phoenix. Even possessing the Elder Wand offered no guarantees of immortality. The Philosopher’s Stone could prolong his life, but that kind of immortality didn’t interest him.