The summons came just after dusk, when the castle began to quiet in a way that was never complete, but close enough to feel intentional.
A house-elf appeared at the doorway with careful timing, waited until Wayne looked up, and delivered the message without ceremony. The Headmaster would receive him this evening. Amber was welcome to attend for the opening, but the conversation itself would be brief and private.
"Brief," Amber repeated once the elf had gone, adjusting the sleeve of her robe. "That's optimistic."
Wayne smiled faintly. "It's Dumbledore's version of reassurance."
They walked together through corridors now familiar enough to feel less overwhelming, though the castle still shifted subtly around them, staircases pausing or redirecting with quiet precision. The movement felt purposeful tonight, as if Hogwarts itself understood the importance of timing.
When they reached the gargoyle, it stepped aside at once, without prompting.
"That's new," Amber said.
Wayne said nothing.
The spiral staircase carried them upward in a slow, measured ascent. The office revealed itself gradually, warm lamplight first, then the quiet hum of magical instruments already awake and attentive. Portraits turned their heads as Wayne entered, interest passing through them like a ripple.
Albus Dumbledore stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, watching the grounds below. He turned as they approached, his expression calm, but no longer casual.
"Good evening," he said. "Thank you for coming so promptly."
Amber inclined her head politely. "Good evening, Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled at her. "You are most welcome to remain for the beginning," he said gently. "But I will ask for a moment alone shortly."
"I understand," she replied.
Wayne took the chair opposite the desk, posture relaxed but attentive. Dumbledore did not sit immediately. Instead, he walked slowly back to his desk, picked up a folded newspaper, and placed it between them.
The headline shifted once before settling.
'TEACHER WAYNE' EARNS PRAISE AT HOGWARTS
"I assume," Dumbledore said mildly, "that this is not an announcement you authorised."
"No," Wayne replied evenly. "It's inaccurate."
"Mostly," Dumbledore agreed. "But inaccuracies have a way of becoming expectations if left unaddressed."
Amber glanced at Wayne, then at Dumbledore. "I can step out now," she offered.
"In a moment," Dumbledore said. "There is no harm in context."
He finally took his seat, fingers steepled lightly. "You caused a stir today."
Wayne nodded. "I noticed."
"Wandless magic in a public corridor," Dumbledore continued. "Discreetly done, but not unseen."
"The alternative was letting a child fall," Wayne replied. "I chose the faster option."
Dumbledore's eyes softened slightly. "I would have done the same."
A pause settled between them, deliberate rather than awkward.
"The rumours," Dumbledore said at last, "have reached the staff."
"I assumed they would," Wayne replied.
"Some are curious. Some are cautious. A few are… enthusiastic." Dumbledore's lips twitched faintly. "You are remembered, Wayne. More than you might expect."
Wayne exhaled slowly. "That's part of why I came."
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "And part of why I asked you here."
He turned his gaze to Amber. "If you would excuse us now."
She stood, giving Wayne a brief look that carried more reassurance than concern. "I'll be nearby."
When the door closed behind her, the office felt quieter, as though the walls themselves had leaned in.
Dumbledore gestured toward the newspaper. "You did not deny it."
"No," Wayne said. "I didn't confirm it either."
"Intentional."
"Yes."
Dumbledore nodded, satisfied. "Hogwarts responds well to restraint."
One of the silver instruments on the desk spun briefly, then stilled.
"Now," Dumbledore said, his tone shifting subtly, "there is another matter."
Wayne met his gaze without hesitation. "Merlin's Hands."
The Headmaster did not react outwardly, but something in the room changed. The lamps brightened slightly. The door sealed with a soft click.
"I wondered when you would raise it," Dumbledore said quietly.
"I wanted the right setting," Wayne replied. "And the right distance."
"From me," Dumbledore said.
"Yes."
Dumbledore leaned back, studying him with renewed focus. "Tell me what happened."
Wayne did not embellish. He described the shop, the squib proprietor, the private room, the interruption in memory. He spoke of the pressure in the air, the loss of rhythm, the way the man emerged confused and unaware that anything unusual had occurred.
He did not speculate.
He finished with a single sentence. "I did not intend to influence him."
Silence followed.
Dumbledore rose slowly and crossed to one of the instruments, adjusting it with care. A thin line of light appeared briefly, then faded.
"That is," he said at last, "concerning."
"I thought you might say that."
"You did not use a wand," Dumbledore observed.
"No."
"You did not speak a spell."
"No."
"And the effect," Dumbledore continued, "was selective, temporary, and precise."
Wayne nodded. "Yes."
Dumbledore turned back to him. "You understand why this cannot be discussed openly."
"I do."
"Good," Dumbledore said. "Because what you describe is not recognised magic. It does not appear in our records. And it does not behave as magic usually does."
Wayne's expression remained steady. "That's why I left Hogwarts."
Dumbledore regarded him for a long moment. "And that," he said quietly, "is why I am asking you to stay."
He moved back to the desk but did not sit. "Not as a teacher. Not yet. But as a presence. An observer. Someone close enough that I can understand what the world has already noticed."
Wayne considered this. "You're asking for trust."
"I am," Dumbledore replied. "And patience."
Wayne smiled faintly. "You always ask for both."
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "And you always give them, eventually."
Another pause settled in, heavier than before.
"At dawn," Dumbledore added, "the staff will receive the gifts you arranged. That will raise further questions."
"I expected it to."
"When those questions come," Dumbledore said, "I would prefer to answer them with truth rather than conjecture."
Wayne stood. "Then we're aligned."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "For now."
As Wayne turned toward the door, Dumbledore spoke once more. "Wayne."
He stopped.
"The castle is reacting to you," Dumbledore said. "That alone would have been reason enough to call you back."
Wayne glanced around the office, at the instruments, the portraits, the quiet awareness embedded in the walls. "It always did."
He left without another word.
Outside, the corridor felt unchanged, but the night had deepened, and Hogwarts seemed very awake.
Tomorrow would not be quiet.
But it would be honest.