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Chapter 25: Threatening People — Dumbledore Is a Professional
The concert ended at 10:30 p.m.
By 11:30, the siblings had returned to their new home in London.
It was a villa Rick had just purchased, located in Wimbledon—only a five-minute walk from Richmond Park.
The moment they arrived, they found an elderly man already waiting at the door.
As soon as Audrey saw him, her first instinct was to turn around and run.
This was the last person in the world she wanted to be anywhere near.
Albus Dumbledore.
"Good evening," the old man said pleasantly.
"Good evening, sir," Rick replied politely. "And you are…?"
"I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore said calmly. "Your sister has been accepted into our school, so I took the liberty of making a home visit to discuss Miss Audrey Astray's education. As Hogwarts is a boarding school, parental—or guardian—consent is required."
"But sir—"
Rick was about to speak when Dumbledore gently interrupted him.
"I know what you wish to say. Why don't we go inside and talk?"
He raised his wand—the Elder Wand—and lightly tapped the door.
Click.
The door unlocked and swung open on its own.
Dumbledore stepped inside as naturally as though this were his own home.
With an elegant flick of his wand, a tea set, kettle, cups, water, and an assortment of snacks floated through the air and arranged themselves neatly on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
Everything landed in perfect order.
When Rick first heard the words Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had suspected a con artist.
But what he was seeing now made him hesitate.
He knew many internationally famous stage magicians.
None of them could do this.
"They can't," Dumbledore said mildly, as if he had heard Rick's thoughts.
He tapped his wand again. The vase on the table transformed into a dove, which fluttered into the kitchen and returned a moment later carrying a sugar cube in its beak.
"This is not stage magic," Dumbledore said. "It is magic."
Rick's mouth fell open.
"Ah… ah… wh—"
"Because young witches and wizards born into non-magical families have never encountered our world," Dumbledore continued, sending a cup of sweet black tea floating gently toward Rick, "a professor like myself must pay them a visit. Go on—try it. Tea brewed with magic."
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Audrey cut in quickly, stopping Rick's hand, "it's already past midnight. If my brother drinks that, how is he supposed to sleep tonight?"
"Ah—yes, quite right," Dumbledore said with a nod.
Rick immediately agreed. Audrey always seemed more reliable than him—something that both irritated and impressed him.
That's my sister.
"It's quite alright," Dumbledore said calmly. "To a wizard, putting an ordinary person to sleep is no more difficult than offering them a glass of water."
Rick scratched his head. Under Dumbledore's encouraging gaze, he lifted the cup and drained it in one gulp.
"This tastes amazing!"
He stared in disbelief at the empty cup.
The tea leaves were his. The water was his.
So why did it taste this good?
A warm, inexplicable joy welled up inside him.
Rick grinned foolishly, looking utterly blissful.
Audrey, however, did not.
She knew perfectly well that Dumbledore had slipped a euphoria-inducing potion into the tea.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Audrey said coolly, "setting magic aside, aren't you worried about harming my brother by drugging his tea?"
"A sharp little girl," Dumbledore chuckled.
"Though it may sound immodest, I am indeed among the most skilled wizards alive. Miss Astray, you need not worry about potion dosages. The potion was brewed personally by our Potions Master, with a refined formulation. It has no side effects whatsoever."
"I merely added a trace—to make the conversation… smoother."
"Audrey, I'm fine," Rick said cheerfully, patting her hand. "I've never felt better."
He picked up a biscuit mid-sentence, his words slurring slightly.
"The Headmaster means well. If possible, I'd even like to ask for some of that magical… potion?"
Dumbledore smiled.
"So, regarding Miss Audrey's enrolment—what is your opinion?"
"I'm fine with it," Rick said readily. "But the final decision isn't mine. It's Audrey's."
Dumbledore turned toward her.
Audrey sighed inwardly.
You useless brother. At a moment like this, shouldn't you be refusing outright? Saying you can't bear to let your little sister leave home?
Then Rick spoke again.
"When Audrey was eleven," he said slowly, "I already knew she was different from ordinary people."
Both Audrey and Dumbledore froze.
"She was never normal," Rick continued. "Her talent, her quirks, the strange things she brought home… I knew from the start."
"This explains everything."
"She's a witch," Rick said, looking straight at her. "She belongs with her own kind."
"Even if it hurts me," he added quietly, "I still have to say—Audrey, if you want to go, then go."
"This will always be your home. If the wizarding world treats you badly, you can come back anytime."
"I'll support you for the rest of your life."
Audrey rolled her eyes.
Who said I want to go to the wizarding world?
Besides, it wasn't even clear who would be supporting whom.
Her final resting place might be the wizarding world—but definitely not now.
Still… she felt a flicker of warmth.
She didn't know how she ended up with such a foolish older brother, but at this moment, they truly felt like siblings.
Support?
Either way, money was essential.
And the moment she thought of money, an idea struck her.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Audrey sat upright, her expression serious. "Do you know how much money I earn in a year?"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"Five million pounds annually," she said calmly. "And that number will only increase."
She spread her fingers, forming a five, and waved it lightly.
"If I attend Hogwarts, I will lose tens—possibly hundreds—of millions of pounds in income."
Dumbledore kept smiling, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
Hundreds of millions of pounds.
That was equivalent to over ten million Galleons.
An astronomical sum.
"If I graduate from Hogwarts and seek employment in the wizarding world," Audrey continued, "will I ever earn that much?"
The answer was obvious.
Professor McGonagall herself earned less than two hundred Galleons a month.
Dumbledore fell silent.
Audrey's smile widened.
So I don't have to run to America after all.
And I don't have to go to Hogwarts either.
Money truly was omnipotent.
Even Albus Dumbledore couldn't argue with it.
"So," Audrey pressed, "what exactly do I gain in exchange for losing all that income?"
"Wizarding fans?"
"Or perhaps Hogwarts intends to compensate me?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
This child was far more troublesome than during their last meeting.
Back then, she'd been as nervous as a mouse before a cat.
"Mr Astray," Dumbledore said instead, turning to Rick, "may I speak with Miss Astray alone?"
"Oh—of course," Rick stood up. The potion had mostly worn off by now. "Audrey, I'll be upstairs. Call me if you need anything."
Once only the two of them remained—one young, one old—Dumbledore's demeanor changed.
His smile became inscrutable.
"Miss Audrey Astray," the old fox said softly.
"Or should I call you… Bobby Graham?"
"Or perhaps—"
"Hydras Lestrange?"
Audrey's mind exploded.
Holy shit.
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