What?
When had Rose and Edward ever said he wasn't allowed to take flying lessons?
Ethan distinctly remembered reading the letter from home that morning, and there had definitely been nothing about broomsticks inside it.
This had to be another trick from the old man upstairs.
As a child, it was important to protect yourself around suspicious elderly wizards with white beards.
Especially when the suspicious elderly wizard happened to be the Headmaster.
Ethan followed the older student named Smith back into the castle and climbed the moving staircases toward the eighth floor. Along the way, he enthusiastically attempted to build a friendship with the senior.
Unfortunately, Smith appeared deeply introverted and answered most questions with increasingly painful silence.
"Senior, do you have a girlfriend?"
"…No."
"Then do you like older people or younger people?"
Smith's expression immediately became complicated.
"Why are you always around Professor Dumbledore?"
"I help deliver messages sometimes."
"Oh." Ethan nodded thoughtfully. "Senior, let me tell you a secret. Professor Dumbledore is single now."
Smith nearly tripped on the stairs.
By the time they reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office, the poor boy's face had turned bright red.
"Lemon sherbet," Smith said stiffly to the stone gargoyle.
The statue jumped aside while appearing deeply entertained by the entire conversation.
"If you like sweets, that's understandable," Ethan continued thoughtfully while stepping onto the spiral staircase. "At least lemon sherbets are better than helicopter gunships and shopping trolleys—mmph!"
Smith finally snapped and covered Ethan's mouth with one hand while physically shoving him upward before he could continue talking.
Ethan wiped his mouth afterward with visible disappointment.
That had been dangerous.
He had almost bitten the senior's soul by instinct.
Once they reached the office door, Ethan paused briefly.
The tracking curse Quirrell had placed on him was still active.
Of course, Ethan already knew there was no such thing as a delayed Killing Curse. But "Ethan Norton" did not necessarily know that.
Pretending ignorance gave him a perfect excuse for future questionable behaviour.
After all, who would blame a frightened first-year being threatened by Dark wizards?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Please come in," Dumbledore's calm voice called from inside.
Ethan slowly pushed open the office door and peeked inside cautiously, even though he had technically explored the place already in soul form before.
The circular office was lined with portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses. Most appeared asleep, though Ethan clearly noticed several paintings secretly opening one eye to stare at him.
Was he really that frightening?
They were paintings. He couldn't even eat them.
"Ethan," Dumbledore said warmly. "Come in and sit down."
A chair slid smoothly across the floor toward him under magical control.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."
Ethan carefully climbed onto the seat and immediately spotted a magnificent crimson bird perched nearby.
Fawkes.
The phoenix was enormous, elegant, and radiant in the afternoon light.
Ethan stared at it with deep resentment.
Why was Dumbledore's bird majestic and beautiful while his own bird was a deeply unstable menace?
[Perhaps pets resemble their owners.]
Ethan was beginning to suspect he could hear the Count's voice inside his own head now.
"Phoenixes are fascinating creatures," Dumbledore said kindly after noticing Ethan's attention. "I have a wonderful book here titled A Detailed Study of Living Mythological Creatures. If you'd like, you may borrow it for as long as necessary."
Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"The last student who borrowed a book from me returned it over twenty years later. Apparently he needed extra shelf space for Gilderoy Lockhart's complete works."
The Headmaster chuckled softly to himself.
"Oh, but before that—would you like some tea?"
The tea set on Dumbledore's desk bounced cheerfully toward Ethan.
"Tea? Pumpkin juice? Milk?"
"I want milk tea," Ethan answered after serious consideration. "The kind made with milk and black tea mixed together. Muggles make it a lot."
"Oh, excellent choice," Dumbledore said immediately, looking genuinely delighted. "I'm rather fond of it myself. It's a shame so many wizards refuse to appreciate Muggle inventions simply because of prejudice."
The teapot tilted automatically.
A steaming cup of light-brown milk tea filled itself in front of Ethan, while an enormous bowl of sugar cubes floated onto the table beside it.
Naturally, Ethan added several.
Possibly too many.
Dumbledore watched approvingly.
People with similar tastes naturally found each other more agreeable, and Dumbledore's own diet was catastrophically overloaded with sugar. The more he observed Ethan, the more convinced he became the child was fundamentally good-hearted.
That did not mean certain educational conversations could be avoided.
"Well then," Dumbledore said after Ethan took a large sip of milk tea. "Let us begin with the matter of flying lessons."
Ethan looked up.
"Your mother did, in fact, write to me requesting exemption from broom lessons."
"…What?"
This time, Ethan's confusion was completely genuine.
Rose really had written that?
Why?
Did she somehow discover he could already fly by transforming into a Dementor?
That seemed absurd even by his standards.
"Rose mentioned that you're somewhat afraid of heights," Dumbledore explained gently. "Hogwarts never forces students into situations that genuinely distress them. Whether you choose to participate is entirely your decision."
Then Dumbledore lowered his voice slightly and smiled over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.
"In a mother's eyes, a child remains a child forever."
Suddenly everything made sense.
Rose was worried he might panic and fall off a broomstick.
Dumbledore had truly summoned him here just to discuss flying lessons.
…Hadn't he?
"And there is one other matter," Dumbledore continued casually. "I heard you visited Professor Quirrell twice this week. Were you experiencing difficulties in Defence Against the Dark Arts?"
His blue eyes sharpened instantly.
The feeling resembled invisible light scanning directly through Ethan's thoughts.
Legilimency.
Unfortunately for Dumbledore, Ethan blocked the attempt effortlessly.
A little mind-reading magic barely registered against him.
Ethan lowered his head immediately and forced his shoulders to tremble slightly.
"Professor Quirrell asked me to visit him," he mumbled weakly. "He… he…"
"What did he say to you?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"He gave me a book," Ethan answered quietly. "Theory of Transformation. The second time I only went to return it…"
"Don't be afraid, Ethan," Dumbledore said softly. "Nothing at Hogwarts can harm you."
Then he added carefully, "But if there is anything you wish to tell me, you may do so."
Ethan shook harder.
Unfortunately, he shook slightly too hard.
The teacup slipped from his hands and shattered against the floor.
"No, Professor," Ethan whispered quickly.
At the same moment, his finger brushed silently through the spilled milk tea across the table surface.
Dumbledore's eyes flickered downward briefly.
Then the Headmaster smiled warmly again.
"Well then, Ethan," he said kindly, waving his wand to open the office door. "You should go enjoy the afternoon sunshine with your classmates."
"Thank you for the milk tea, Professor."
Ethan left obediently.
The moment the office door closed behind him, one of the portraits on the wall exploded into outrage.
"The creature is lying!" Phineas Nigellus Black shouted immediately.
"I know, Phineas," Dumbledore replied calmly.
He walked slowly around the desk toward the place where Ethan had been sitting moments earlier.
"But he is still a child. Fear and uncertainty often lead children toward unfortunate decisions."
On the table, traced faintly through spilled milk tea, was a single word.
Threat.
"It seems Tom has taken an interest in Ethan as well," Dumbledore murmured thoughtfully.
"He placed a tracking charm on the boy. Perhaps he convinced Ethan it was dangerous to reveal his secret."
"Then why not explain everything directly?" Phineas demanded irritably. "What if the child truly sides with that Dark Lord?"
"Ethan is a good boy," Dumbledore said quietly.
He looked toward the office window where sunlight poured into the room.
"An eleven-year-old child risked his life to leave behind that warning. That alone proves courage greater than fear."
One of the older portraits stirred awake.
"Your plans are progressing, then?" the former Headmaster asked.
Dumbledore folded his hands behind his back.
"Sheltering someone too completely only weakens them," he said softly. "Only storms allow trees to grow tall enough to face the sky."
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