"Would you be interested in taking a little trip with me?"
Seated behind his desk, Dumbledore smiled genially as he posed the question.
—And so, that evening's conversation between Qin Yu and Professor Dumbledore began with this simple invitation.
Though caught off guard by the old wizard's words, Qin Yu still nodded instinctively. "Sure."
His ready agreement seemed to throw Dumbledore for a loop, as though the rhythm of the conversation he'd planned had been abruptly derailed, leaving half his lines stuck in his throat.
But Dumbledore was nothing if not seasoned. He recovered quickly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "You agreed without even asking where we're going. Isn't that a bit… reckless?"
"…"
Qin Yu scratched his head, momentarily at a loss. He realized he had, indeed, been a bit too quick to say yes.
Then again, he thought, can you really blame me? You're Dumbledore. If there's anyone in this world I can trust without question, it's you.
Still, the headmaster's words were a good reminder—not to let old habits or blind trust dictate his decisions. He'd need to keep his wits about him, take things as they came.
After a brief silence, Qin Yu nodded. "Next time, I'll make sure to ask first."
"Ha! You're quick to take advice, aren't you?" Dumbledore chuckled—not entirely clear if it was praise, gentle teasing, or a bit of both.
"So… where exactly are we going?" Qin Yu finally asked the question he should have led with.
"How about you try to guess?" Dumbledore grinned, winking at Qin Yu with a mischievous glint worthy of a schoolboy.
"Er… I really haven't a clue! You called me here out of the blue and didn't give me a single hint. I'm just a kid, you know—I can't possibly match your fathomless wisdom and experience." Qin Yu spread his hands, feigning helplessness.
"All right, all right, perhaps I was being a bit unfair not giving you any clues." Dumbledore privately thought that Qin Yu's constant reminders of being "just a child" were a tad much, but then again, if he didn't remind people, most would probably forget to treat him like one. There was something oddly mature about the boy—far more than his years.
After a fleeting moment of reflection, Dumbledore offered a hint: "All right then, who's the person you most want to see right now?"
"Hermione?" Qin Yu blurted out immediately, then muttered, "If it's about Hermione, does that mean we're going back to London?"
His answer left Dumbledore speechless. The old wizard's beard twitched, but he said nothing for a long, long moment.
"Try again," Dumbledore managed at last, suppressing the urge to whack the boy with his wand.
Don't get angry. Don't get angry. Anger is bad for the health, and no one's going to step in for you if you drop dead.
He's still a child, he's still a child.
This mantra echoed through the headmaster's mind.
Honestly, what is it with kids these days, always thinking about little witches?
Unaware of Dumbledore's inner turmoil, Qin Yu could still feel the pressure in the air, and shrank back a little. "Um… who else could it be?" He racked his brain, but nothing came to mind.
"It's someone you haven't seen in a long time!" Dumbledore prompted, huffing out a sigh.
"Oh! Charlie! Are we going to the dragon reserve in Romania?" Qin Yu perked up, his voice laced with anticipation. "I've heard there are loads of rare dragons there—I've always wanted to see them. And I heard Charlie's fallen for a girl. He keeps asking me for advice, pretending it's for a 'friend.' You know, Professor, I'm a decent chap, not some playboy—how would I know anything about wooing girls?"
"…" Dumbledore said nothing.
"So… not Charlie?" Qin Yu frowned, realizing he'd missed the mark again.
Meeting the boy's puzzled gaze, Dumbledore sighed, his tone drifting into the philosophical. "I do wonder what goes on in the minds of young people these days."
When he was young, all he'd thought about was how to improve his magical prowess. Now, it seemed, all these children cared about was their crushes and romantic escapades.
Qin Yu was thrown by the sudden change of topic, but after a moment's thought, he offered a genuine reflection: "You know, unless someone actually becomes young again, it's impossible to truly understand what it's like to be young. So, Professor, don't worry too much about not getting us."
He'd experienced it himself—his body had grown young, but his mind was still different. He could only partly relate to his younger self; he couldn't fully go back, nor could he completely understand his own youthful thoughts.
It was a strange, unique feeling. If you couldn't truly be "young in body and mind," you'd never really get it.
"Enough philosophy," Dumbledore decided, bringing the conversation back to earth. "We're wizards, not philosophers."
Qin Yu shrugged. It wasn't his fault they'd gone off on a tangent.
"So, not Charlie. Try again." Dumbledore was starting to regret this whole guessing game. If the boy didn't get it this time, he'd just spill the answer—there was no fun left in keeping secrets.
Qin Yu pursed his lips, thinking hard. After a long pause, he ventured, "Professor Swinton?"
"Oh? So you do remember that name," Dumbledore said, unable to keep a note of mock resentment from his voice.
"Of course I do! I actually wanted to guess Professor Swinton first, but it didn't seem likely, so I didn't say it…" Qin Yu replied, deadpan.
"Oh, really? You thought of him before Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked, archly.
Come on, whose side are you on, old man? No need to dig such tricky holes!
Luckily, Hermione wasn't here, so Qin Yu didn't have to worry about whether this was a "trap question." He responded with perfect composure, "Feelings aren't about who comes first or last, Professor. Isn't it a bit shallow to think otherwise?"
Dumbledore laughed heartily, clearly pleased by the comeback.
Qin Yu rolled his eyes, pretending not to notice the headmaster's smugness.
After this little detour, Qin Yu found his nerves about all things Swinton had eased a bit. Bracing himself, he asked, "Professor Dumbledore, when you said we're going on a trip… are we really going to see Professor Swinton?"
He was almost afraid to get a "no"—his second brother's whereabouts had always been a source of worry.
But Dumbledore didn't say yes or no. Instead, he replied, "If that person counts as Swinton, then yes, we're going to see him."
"That person? Ian Stanley?" Qin Yu immediately pictured the man from the newspaper photo.
"That's right," Dumbledore nodded.
"So we still can't be sure he's Professor Swinton?" Qin Yu pressed.
"That's why I'm making this trip. I thought if I brought you along, it might help us figure things out." Dumbledore looked at him kindly. "At the very least, he's willing to see us now. I think that's a rare opportunity."
"…"
Qin Yu had a thousand questions, but his mind was a mess—he couldn't even figure out where to start. In the end, he just grumbled, "Our Professor Swinton really is a handful, isn't he?"
His frustrated, exasperated look sent Dumbledore into another fit of laughter.
"So, are you up for a little trip?" the headmaster asked again.
"Of course, Professor," Qin Yu replied without hesitation, though his tone was half a complaint. "Professor Swinton doesn't really have any family left. As his student, I should at least look out for him."
"Haha! Not just a student, right? Didn't you three make a brotherhood pact? You're his little brother, too." Dumbledore teased, eyes twinkling.
"Ah, that was just youthful recklessness—no need to bring it up again!" Qin Yu waved his hands, embarrassed.
It was funny, really. Earlier he'd insisted "I'm just a kid," and now he was talking about "the foolishness of youth." Dumbledore couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Qin Yu shook his head inwardly. The headmaster's sense of humor was really something tonight.
After a while, Dumbledore said to the self-proclaimed child, "Well, if you've no objections, it's settled. After dinner tomorrow, come to my office and we'll head off together."
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore. I'll remember!" Qin Yu nodded.
After confirming he didn't need to pack anything, Qin Yu left the office.
As he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, his expression gradually grew serious—gone was the easy confidence he'd shown with Dumbledore.
He didn't know what had happened to Swinton, but it was clear something serious was afoot.
And this time, it was out of his hands—he couldn't rely on "foresight" to predict or avoid what was coming.
"What kind of script have I landed in this time? Please let nothing truly dangerous happen… not to Swinton, and not to me."
He muttered under his breath, shook his head, took a deep breath, and climbed the stairs to the tower with steady, determined steps.
Whatever story awaited him, he'd face it head-on.
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