"Kid, did you just make a prophecy or something?"
"Is this another round of psychological evaluations?"
The cramped room fell back into silence, so quiet you could faintly hear the distant whistle of a steam train in the background.
Tonks, lurking outside the observation room door, felt a surge of restless frustration. She'd been crouched there for nearly twenty minutes.
Ever since Dumbledore stepped into the room, neither he nor the boy had said a word. Finally, someone broke the stifling quiet, but of course, they spoke at the exact same moment.
"Tonks? What are you doing here?"
A Ministry of Magic employee's puzzled voice called out, spotting a vibrant blur of red, orange, yellow, green, and purple huddled in the corner.
Tonks shot to her feet, brushing off the dust with an awkward grin. Her bubblegum-pink hair instantly shifted to a more serious black.
"Nothing… just taking a breather…"
Amos Diggory didn't press further. He passed along a message that the Head of the Auror Office was looking for her, then walked off.
After hesitating for a long moment, Tonks left the corridor, silently wishing the boy inside the room the best of luck.
"You and Tonks must've had a good chat last night. She seems quite worried about you."
The old man sitting across from Adam spoke with a gentle smile, his weathered face showing faint traces of exhaustion. Yet his piercing blue eyes remained as clear and bright as ever.
"Maybe. You seem to know a lot about me, sir."
Adam raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Not at all, my boy. In fact, I only heard your name for the first time yesterday, from Professor McGonagall."
"She was grumbling about how some owls are too lazy to deliver letters to young witches and wizards, but I suspect you might have a hunch about why that's happening."
Dumbledore's expression turned a bit mischievous as he pulled out a letter written in emerald-green ink and slid it across the table to Adam.
The letter bore a wax seal shaped like a shield, with a bold 'H' surrounded by four distinct animals.
"I had planned to deliver this to you in person at the orphanage, but it seems now's as good a time as any."
Adam's fingers rested lightly on the letter, but he didn't open it. After a moment's hesitation, he couldn't help but ask, "You didn't come here just to hand me this letter, did you?"
"I thought you'd first ask what Hogwarts is, but it seems you're more curious about something else."
Dumbledore drew his Elder Wand from his sleeve and gave it a gentle flick.
A soft, ethereal melody drifted in from the corridor, dispelling the lingering chill and oppressive atmosphere of the cramped room.
Adam looked up to see a golden-red phoenix materialize in a burst of flame. Its dazzling golden tail feathers cut through the darkness, sparks of crimson arcing gracefully through the air. Its gleaming claws clutched…
A black cat.
The shadowy feline darted like a breeze straight into Adam's arms.
Blinking its sapphire-blue eyes, the cat pointed a paw accusingly at the phoenix, looking thoroughly aggrieved.
The phoenix, in turn, tilted its head haughtily, aiming its shimmering tail feathers at the cat and letting out a dismissive chirp.
Meow meow meow!
Adam rubbed the black cat's head with a wry smile before grabbing the scruff of its neck.
"Sorry, Amy, I know you got roughed up by a phoenix…"
"But first, I've got to ask—have you been chasing off all the owls that came to the orphanage lately?"
Amy the cat let out a string of indignant meows, but under Adam's narrowing gaze, she eventually drooped her head and flicked her tail weakly.
"It's alright, my boy," Dumbledore said, stroking the phoenix's feathers with a chuckle. "I don't think she did anything wrong. Kneazles are fascinating magical creatures. Like most feline magical beasts, they can sense potential threats."
"This also confirms the thrilling adventure you had last night. She was probably just trying to protect you and mistook the school's owls for a threat."
Amy nodded her little head vigorously, meowing softly to express her grievances.
Adam set her down, unconvinced. He had a sneaking suspicion this little troublemaker was just greedy for treats.
"You know about what happened last night?"
"Of course. Or rather, the entire British wizarding world knows about it."
A copy of The Daily Prophet appeared on the table, its front-page headline featuring a dramatic image of Adam in a black trench coat.
The article, written in florid, exaggerated prose, recounted the tale of a young wizard riding a fire-breathing dragon, storming a dark wizard's camp to rescue a hoard of illegally smuggled magical creatures.
The vivid details were so intense that even Adam, who'd lived through it, started to wonder if he'd actually done all that.
"I've never raised a dragon…"
Dumbledore's gaze drifted to the playful tussle between the Kneazle and the phoenix.
"We know that. The dragon in question had just broken free from its cage, in a state of uncontrollable rage, and appeared over the orphanage. If you hadn't acted, the consequences could've been far worse than anyone imagined."
"But the Ministry isn't keen on admitting their own oversight, and people prefer to believe the version of the truth they want to hear."
Adam watched Amy chase the phoenix's flickering form through the firelight, staying silent for a long moment before speaking.
"So, Professor Dumbledore, what truth are you looking for?"
The simple question sliced through the fragile harmony, shattering the brief moment of warmth.
The oppressive atmosphere returned, so heavy that even the phoenix paused, giving Amy the chance to yank out one of its tail feathers. Furious, the phoenix swatted the cat with a wing.
Dumbledore's expression grew complex. He slowly removed his half-moon spectacles, letting out a heavy sigh.
His blue eyes betrayed deep weariness, and his stooped figure seemed to sag further.
"I'm glad you're willing to call me Professor, but you don't need to be so guarded around me."
"Your innate gift should tell you clearly—I've never used magic to pry into your thoughts."
From the moment Dumbledore entered the room, Adam had been constantly channeling his Occlumency, shielding his mind.
"Is it that obvious?"
Adam's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Not really. It's just that when you face me, you instinctively push your magic to its limits. Perhaps you could try easing up, letting your magic flow naturally with your breath."
Dumbledore looked at Adam, who remained unshaken, and gave a helpless smile.
His aged hands carefully drew a portrait from his robes.
The lifelike figure on the paper was all too familiar to Adam—he'd drawn it himself not long ago.
"Ariana… how is she? Is she doing alright?"
When Adam looked up, the stooped old man's face was streaked with tears.
In that moment, Dumbledore wasn't the legendary wizard who defeated two Dark Lords, the bearer of countless titles others could only dream of, or the so-called White Wizard some secretly feared.
He was just an old man, trapped in a lifetime of guilt.
His gaze flicked to the Elder Wand on the table, then to the phoenix shimmering in the firelight, suppressing a restless urge deep within.
Adam struggled to find words as he began to speak about Ariana.
He didn't know much about the relationship between the two. Before meeting the girl, he hadn't even known Dumbledore had a late sister.
His knowledge of the wizarding world was patchy, drawn from a few movies and fanfiction from his past life.
But he knew Ariana. Though she rarely spoke of her past, Adam could piece together fragments of the truth.
So he decided to take a gamble, betting on how much Ariana meant to Dumbledore.
The worst-case scenario? He'd flee to the "Otherworld" the next second, train under his cryptic mentor, and emerge as a magical swordmaster years later.
If he won the bet, though… Adam's eyes flickered as he paused mid-sentence while describing Ariana's favorite things.
He met the old man's anxious gaze and spoke softly.
"So, have you ever heard of the Otherworld?"
A soft knock came from the door, and a flicker of regret passed through Dumbledore's eyes.
After a response, an Auror pushed open the door to the interrogation room.
Tonks, hesitating outside the iron door, caught a glimpse of Adam still seated in his chair. The tension she'd carried for hours finally eased.
The moment Adam saw the Auror, it was like watching an aged lion stride into the room.
Tea-brown hair streaked with gray, bushy eyebrows, and sharp yellow eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses.
"Sorry, Dumbledore, I hate to interrupt this teacher-student moment, but I think you two could continue this in a better setting."
Adam and Dumbledore both froze. Adam's eyes filled with confusion.
"You mean I'm free to go?"
"Of course. Someone paid your bail and made a rather generous donation to the Ministry."
Tonks stared at Scrimgeour in shock. It was the first time she'd seen the Head of the Auror Office with that expression.
Though his smile was a bit unsettling—probably from dealing with too many dark wizards—it still carried a hint of kindness.
"Who was it?"
"Sorry, kid, I don't know. I only found out about it ten minutes ago."
Scrimgeour shrugged, his expression genuine.
He'd been at the Minister's meeting the previous night. Though Dumbledore's proposal had gained traction, Adam still needed to go through the proper procedures.
It wasn't just about answering the public's questions—it was a chance for the Ministry to conduct an internal review.
But an invisible hand had quietly squashed it all. Scrimgeour, who'd just begun investigating Ministry personnel, was pulled back by a sudden order.
He didn't know what was going on behind the scenes, but the message was clear: someone didn't want Adam staying at the Ministry.
Scrimgeour watched Adam and Dumbledore leave, his gravelly voice breaking the silence.
"I heard you did a psych evaluation on the kid last night. Even if it's been scrapped, mind if I take a look?"
"Uh… is that important? I was just worried about him last night and had a little chat."
Caught off guard, Tonks nervously clutched asony for the rest of the story!