"Even a formal duel is against school rules," Dumbledore adjusted his glasses with a faint smile. "However, since Severus has already given you the appropriate punishment, I won't say more on the matter."
"Now then, Mr. Doom." Dumbledore pulled out the goblin-silver wand he had confiscated from Ivy before the start of term and handed it back. "It's time for this to be returned to its rightful owner. I hope you always remember—Hogwarts is your home."
That sentence made Ivy frown. He had expected this meeting to be full of verbal sparring and subtle probing, but instead, Dumbledore had asked only a few mild questions, gave no firm response to his answers, and now suddenly spoke with genuine sentiment.
The old wizard's unexpected manner left Ivy momentarily dazed, his hand hovering in midair when reaching for the wand.
Sensing Ivy's hesitation, Dumbledore pressed the wand firmly into his hand and explained, "No matter what, you saved Hogwarts. Without your efforts, we would all be attending classes in a pile of rubble."
Ivy relaxed, smiling as he replied, "You're right, Professor Dumbledore. Hogwarts will always be my home."
After all, who wouldn't love this magical school? The teachers and classmates here were all talented, their conversations entertaining, and Ivy adored Hogwarts more than anything.
"That's all I wanted to discuss today. If I recall correctly, you don't have any afternoon classes, yes? Then you should enjoy your weekend." Dumbledore pushed forward a dish of lemon sherbet. "I would be delighted to see you take some to share with your friends, Mr. Doom."
To Dumbledore's shock—and slight dismay—Ivy promptly grabbed a huge handful, leaving behind only a few pitiful sweets in the dish.
"You did tell me to take some," Ivy said righteously.
"Oh—by all means," Dumbledore muttered, looking a little forlorn. "You know, most of my visitors aren't quite so… liberal."
The image of this elderly wizard haggling with a shop clerk over the price of a bag of sweets, eventually resorting to magic, stirred a twinge of guilt in Ivy's heart.
But once something was in his hands, there was no way he was giving it back.
So instead, he summoned the Codex of Destruction, pulled a ten-pound banknote from its pages, and placed it on the desk.
"Next time, don't bother with Galleons. This will buy you plenty of lemon sherbets." Ivy stuffed the candies into his pocket and cast a small charm to keep them from melting and sticking together.
"Thank you, Mr. Doom." Dumbledore picked up the note, holding it to the light for a long, careful look.
Leaving the Headmaster's office, Ivy wandered down the path outside the castle, with vegetable patches on either side and the trail leading straight toward the Forbidden Forest.
At the forest's edge stood the hut of Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.
Harry had invited Ivy earlier for tea, and hopefully, it wasn't too late to accept.
"Hagrid!" Ivy overheard Harry shouting, "The day of the Gringotts break-in—it was my birthday! We might've been there right when it happened!"
"Seems I'm not too late." Ivy raised his hand and knocked on the door.
"Hey! Someone's here, I'll get it," came Hagrid's booming voice, relieved to have an excuse to cut Harry off. He clearly disliked discussing what had happened at Gringotts.
"Hello, Mr. Hagrid." Ivy stepped back slightly so he wouldn't have to crane his neck painfully upward. "We met before in Professor Dumbledore's office. This time, Harry invited me over."
"Oh. Right. Hello to you, too." Hagrid's tone carried a hint of wariness and distance—likely because of the Slytherin heirloom robes Ivy was wearing.
"Harry! Your friend's here," Hagrid called over his shoulder as he moved aside to let Ivy through.
"Ivy!" Harry and Ron exclaimed in delight. "We thought you weren't coming. What did Dumbledore want with you?"
Taking a seat on a shabby cushion, Ivy glanced around the rustic hut. Aside from an oversized wooden bed that matched Hagrid's size, all the furniture exuded a rough, natural simplicity.
"Dumbledore returned my wand." Ivy pulled out the goblin-silver wand and laid it on the table.
"You've got two wands?" Ron leaned closer, inspecting the runes carved into it. "This one's actually made of metal!"
"Goblin-silver—the same material as Gryffindor's Sword," Ivy explained.
As they spoke, Hagrid fetched a mug from the cupboard, poured tea from a brass kettle, and set it before Ivy.
"Thank you, Mr. Hagrid."
"Mmm…" Hagrid grumbled something under his breath. His voice was loud, but Ivy couldn't quite make it out.
"Is that what's used to cast ancient magic?" Harry's attention had shifted away from Gringotts, his curiosity now piqued.
Ivy nodded. "Exactly. It was forged for ancient magic specifically, with extraordinary magical conductivity—stronger than any wand in the world. But I rarely use it."
"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed. "Tell us about your adventures—about those ancient-magic wizards from a hundred years ago!"
"I've never heard of any 'ancient magic.'" This time, everyone heard Hagrid clearly, and both Harry and Ron turned to look at him.
"Ivy's magic is amazing! He made us float without saying a word or even using a wand," Harry eagerly recounted the stories he'd heard on the train.
"A dragon attacked your carriage?" Hagrid asked skeptically. "What kind of dragon?"
"I think it was a Hebridean Black." Ivy's eyes grew distant with memory. "The beast took a single bite and ripped away half the carriage. But I don't think it was acting of its own will. I remember it had a massive goblin-silver collar around its neck. At the time, I was riding with Professor Figo and one of his acquaintances. That man was killed instantly. Later, I learned the creatures pulling the carriage through the sky were Thestrals."
"Oh… only those who've seen death can see Thestrals. That must have been a shock for you." All trace of suspicion vanished from Hagrid's face. He even pulled out a filthy handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. "Enslaved by goblins, the poor things… how awful."