Chapter 170: What Bad Intentions Could a Little Phoenix Possibly Have?
Harry, loaded with bags from his shopping trip, dropped his things off in his dormitory and then went to find Dumbledore. He wanted to ask for permission to join Ryan on his adventures during the summer.
He had picked up a bad habit: he now liked to visit the Headmaster at night, just like Ryan.
When he had mentioned this idea to Ryan, Ryan had nodded enthusiastically on the surface, but inwardly, he was looking forward to the show—I don't even dare to disturb the old couple when they're being affectionate at night. Harry, you're a brave one!
But Harry, unable to perform Legilimency, boldly walked down the path of no return. He arrived at the stone gargoyle, gave the password, and knocked on the Headmaster's door.
He knocked for a while. There was no answer.
He knocked again. Still no answer.
As Harry knocked a third time, he heard a bright, clear trill from behind him. He turned and saw Fawkes, his feathers brilliant and his gaze serene, perched on the railing of the spiral staircase.
Harry had gotten to know Fawkes well during his "Voldemort power-up" training sessions. After all, they were both at the bottom of the Headmaster's office ecosystem. "Fawkes? Is the Headmaster not in?"
Fawkes trilled, a melodious sound that Harry took as an affirmation. "Where is he? Can I go find him?"
Fawkes nodded, then took flight, indicating for Harry to follow.
Harry trailed behind him, unable to see the cunning, mischievous glint that, combined with the fluffy face, made for a very sly expression. Of course, even if Harry had seen it, he wouldn't have recognized it. After all, what bad intentions could a little phoenix possibly have?
The oblivious Harry followed Fawkes all the way to the Astronomy Tower.
Fawkes, that "kind-hearted" and "ever-helpful" phoenix, pointed his wing toward the top of the tower, indicating that Dumbledore was up there. Then, after watching Harry's small figure disappear up the stairs, he let out two satisfied chirps and flew triumphantly back to his perch in the Headmaster's office—which was now on a display cabinet.
His perch had originally been on the Headmaster's desk, but that old coot had moved it, forcing him to sit at the same level as the Sorting Hat! A scholar might endure such an indignity, but a phoenix could not!
Fawkes curled up in his nest and drifted happily off to sleep. In his dreams, Dumbledore had come to his senses, stopped listening to that old coot, and had once again become an excellent... servant.
On the Astronomy Tower.
Harry's hands and feet went cold. His heart went cold. He felt that he was probably already dead. And if he wasn't, he would be soon.
His face was blank, his eyes lifeless. His entire eleven years of life flashed before his eyes...
When the slideshow ended, the image in his mind settled on the present moment. Dumbledore and Gellert—the two old gentlemen he respected most—were standing with their fingers intertwined, pressed so closely together that "intimate" was an understatement.
Is this... right? Even the young, ignorant Harry knew that this was unconventional. He also knew that the current atmosphere was life-threatening. And he knew that the Headmaster... probably... wouldn't kill a student? Maybe?
"Mr. Potter." Gellert's voice was slow and measured. He hadn't moved, but the moment he spoke, Harry understood exactly who was in charge.
"Mr. Gellert! Headmaster!" Harry stammered, his mind racing. He knew, with a survival instinct he didn't know he possessed, that this was not the time to ask about going on adventures. He had to find an excuse that wasn't a death wish. Gratitude was a good one.
"I—I just wanted to... to thank you."
"Thank you, sir, for arranging for Senior Ryan to go home with me. And thank you for preparing the ten-fold payment in pounds, so that Senior Ryan could—" Harry tried to recall Ryan's lessons on the art of wording— "could settle my debt to the Dursleys from a position of moral high ground."
"But I didn't prepare... any pounds..." Dumbledore said, trying to pull his hand back, only to find it held fast in Gellert's grip. He could only remain impassive. "That was likely Ryan's own idea. He handled the entire matter."
Senior Ryan... paid for it all himself?
If Harry set aside all the small interactions and focused on the key moments, his view of Ryan had evolved. At their first meeting in Diagon Alley, Ryan had given him hope. He had worshiped him. When he was invited to the Adventurers' Club, he had felt valued. He had respected him. After Voldemort's capture, when Ryan helped him harness that power, he had felt the joy of his parents' avenger. He had begun to revere him.
And now... Ryan had not only made the Dursleys apologize, allowing him to end that chapter of his life with his head held high, but he had also covered the entire cost himself and never mentioned it.
Harry's eyes grew moist. He suddenly thought of Vaisey.
"Headmaster," Harry asked, changing the subject, "will I be allowed to freely leave Hogwarts during the holidays?"
"You may," Dumbledore replied. "But you must promise to only visit your friends' homes or Hogsmeade. You are not to go to Diagon Alley unless you are accompanied by Hagrid or Ryan, or another professor."
Dumbledore couldn't yet trust Harry to be on his own. He was still too young. Although Ryan had also been young when he was running around, Dumbledore remembered clearly that Ryan, even as a first-year, had possessed the sharp logic of a seasoned veteran. If not for that trace of childishness, he would never have believed Ryan was a child at all.
Watching Harry leave, Dumbledore sighed softly. "Why is he like that?"
Gellert knew his partner all too well and understood what he was asking. "It's a good thing, isn't it? As long as a person's heart retains a core of truth, goodness, and beauty, as long as he believes the world is not without love, he will never stray too far. He is willing to forgive and to help... It's just a pity he only feels that way about his people. The life or death of others is irrelevant to him."
His observations over the past few days had been enough for Gellert to trust Ryan. Because Ryan accepted him, it meant that Ryan would always prioritize the friends and mentors he respected.
"Take Fudge," Gellert continued. "Ryan has disliked him ever since that expulsion incident in his first year. He probably wouldn't have targeted him for no reason... but the moment Fudge stood in the way of his grand blueprint, the choice between 'convincing Fudge' or 'helping Fudge' or 'removing Fudge' was instantly reduced to just the last one."
Fudge, who had spent his entire life immersed in power, would probably never understand that his swift and total downfall was the result of a minor friction with a schoolboy. He couldn't grasp the logic. To a political creature, interests are paramount; minor frictions are just trifles, not worth a second thought.
But Ryan Welles... he could be a wizard, a student, a designer, or a Seer. The one thing he could never be... was a politician.
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