"Very interesting magic. Looks like Nordic style?"
After Harry and Ron left, Dumbledore walked to Fluffy with great interest, cutting off a small section of thorns. The magical flames gushing from the break were bound by his unknown magic within an extremely small range.
"Nordic?"
"Yes, the people there like to disguise dark magic as ordinary magic... Oh, and curses. They're very skilled at all kinds of curses."
Dumbledore picked up a cluster of flames, and the originally life-force-burning magical fire docilely prostrated itself in his hands.
"To this day, you can still see black dragon sculptures in certain Nordic forests. Legend says this was an ancient great wizard who created most of the curses in today's Nordic magical world."
Black dragon? Sterling sensitively noticed this term, studying Dumbledore carefully, trying to discern whether he'd mentioned it casually or...
Unfortunately, the thoughts of a man who'd lived over a century weren't something he could penetrate.
From that kindly smiling face, Sterling could read nothing.
"Very interesting flames. They contain the power of curses. Let's spare poor Fluffy for now. Want some cookies? My office has some new French flavours that are popular lately. Hazelnut passion fruit, how about it?"
Hazelnut and passion fruit? Not that Sterling doubted it, but would this flavour combination really taste good?
Despite his mental reservations, Sterling's hands moved quickly, peeling away the thorns binding Fluffy layer by layer, retracting them into the mist spreading from his right arm.
Seeing this mist, Dumbledore's face flashed with momentary bewilderment.
This mist's feeling... was so close to that "portal" he'd encountered in Jerusalem long ago...
Dumbledore quickly adjusted his expression, taking Sterling's hand toward the headmaster's office.
"Sherbet Lemon".
Before the stone gargoyle at the headmaster's office, Dumbledore spoke this somewhat cringe-worthy password.
The headmaster of a magical school actually used children's candy as his office password? A bit too casual, wasn't it?
"I probably won't change the password for several months. If you encounter any problems, I'd be happy to help you solve them."
Dumbledore kindly guided him to sit down, tapping the table with his index knuckle. A plate of crispy cookies and two cups of perfectly warm milk appeared on the table.
"Considering you're at a growing age, drinking milk is better for your body. Most importantly, it pairs better with cookies."
Sterling picked up a pink cookie and took a bite. Surprisingly delicious.
While Sterling was drinking milk, Dumbledore spoke as if telling a story:
"Have you heard the story of Avalon?"
"Cough cough cough!" Sterling nearly choked on his milk. He looked up at Dumbledore, whose glasses reflected a beam of moonlight.
"Avalon, the Promised Land... a place every wizard pursuing magical truth must try to find... not limited to English wizards. It's arguably the holy land in all wizards' hearts..."
"And also where the universally acknowledged most powerful wizard in history, Merlin Ambrosius, is buried. Though Muggle legends say Merlin was imprisoned in an oak tree, in the magical world we generally believe he returned to Avalon with King Arthur's holy sword, never to show himself again."
"Of course, we all know the Avalon we're discussing now isn't that thing... right, Sterling?"
"Professor Dumbledore, you know Avalon truly exists?"
Dumbledore was pleased Sterling could be direct with him. He'd originally planned to approach more obliquely, but since Sterling was being straightforward, he naturally wouldn't mind abandoning the roundabout methods he'd never liked.
"Yes, Sterling, not only do I know it truly exists. In my youth, I once pursued its traces and glimpsed a corner of it... You might be surprised, but I saw it in Jerusalem."
"Jerusalem? But shouldn't Avalon be on British soil?"
Sterling's confusion was entirely genuine. Setting aside the Arthurian legends, Ravenclaw's diary clearly stated she'd found Avalon in England. How could Jerusalem, Christianity's holy land, possibly connect to Avalon?
"Right, I was as surprised as you then... But you know, for great wizards who've reached the pinnacle, space isn't something to worry about."
"Avalon can be wherever it wants, even if you want to call it something else. Asgard? Heaven? All possible. Different regions have their own names, but all names point to the same place."
Dumbledore raised his hands, sketching a large circle.
"The truly isolated magical world, unreachable by any material means. The realm beyond realms. Avalon."
"I followed heaven's legends and found a corner of it, later finding several clues pointing to it in England. Unfortunately, a person seems to have only one chance to behold it. Even when I reached where it should exist and desperately cast every magic I knew, its gates no longer showed themselves to me."
"Of course, its existence is only spread within extremely small circles... But since a thousand years ago, any wizard who reached limits in some aspect would eventually have their gaze drawn to it..."
"Because true magic exists only in Avalon."
He spread his hand toward Sterling, revealing an owl-shaped mark in his palm. Sterling felt a familiar aura belonging to Avalon from it.
"Sage Magic from the Thirteen Magics. My harvest from Jerusalem."
"Sage Magic... Professor Dumbledore, what can it do?"
Facing Sterling's question, Dumbledore shook his head.
"Nothing at all. The symbolic meaning of the Thirteen Magics far exceeds their practical significance, at least for those of us outside Avalon."
"Perhaps inside Avalon they possess world-changing might, but in our hands as people of this world, they're just qualifications. Qualifications to cross wizards' limits and glimpse broader skies."
"Among the three magic holders I know of, they obtained different Thirteen Magics from different Avalons, but except for names, they're all empty shells."
"No, we don't even know complete names, only judging them as 'such-and-such Magic' from slight remnants... After that, we forge our own magic to fill the marks, gaining their residual blessings, naturally advancing another level."
"However, it seems you're different from us."
Dumbledore studied Sterling. With his experience, he easily derived a subversive fact from Sterling's recent question:
"The Thirteen Magic you possess isn't just an empty shell. It's complete, genuine Thirteen Magic."
Sterling nodded.
"What... enviable circumstances..." Dumbledore sighed.
No wonder that person possessing Peeves, suspected to be from Avalon, valued him so highly, even claiming he was "Avalon's decision"... blatantly pressuring him with Avalon's authority.
The present world and Avalon basically didn't affect each other. Avalon's wizards, except for brief appearances when found at Avalon's edges to answer a few questions and grant further qualifications, never influenced the present world.
Would this status quo collapse because of this child?
Looking at the contemplating Sterling, Dumbledore couldn't help feeling expectant.
Voldemort's blessing from his Magic leaned toward death, the most aggressive blessing.
During his rampaging period, Dumbledore barely suppressed him using Sage Magic's resistance to time's passage with his youthful magical achievements. Now, having experienced death, Voldemort would surely gain more of death's favour. Then, he might not be able to suppress him.
Harry. He'd originally wanted to quietly guide him to Avalon, obtain the legendary attack-skilled Hero Magic, then fill it with his own magic to gain blessings, thereby using fate to counter Voldemort...
Unfortunately, even before Peeves approached him, he'd abandoned this plan.
Simply put, Thirteen Magic marks were things obtained only after reaching wizards' limits. From Harry's performance, Dumbledore didn't think he could touch those limits, let alone have the ability to fill the marks.
And now, a student guaranteed to reach his level stood before him.
Don't put all eggs in one basket.
Dumbledore put on an even more kindly smile.