Harry was sitting in the chair in front of the desk, looking a bit reserved.
Dumbledore smiled kindly at Harry, assuming he was simply nervous for being summoned by the headmaster for the first time.
"Ah, Harry, relax," Dumbledore said. "Actually, I was once a Gryffindor student myself, so I am your senior."
Harry looked at Dumbledore and quickly lowered his head again. He didn't intend to argue, uncertain of the possible consequences.
He had only heard about the headmaster from Hagrid's words, but he had never met him in person, and could not judge Dumbledore's attitude toward him.
"Lemonade?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes, with ice, thank you," Harry replied, nodding obediently, without any formal politeness.
Shortly after, a glass of ice-cold lemonade appeared in front of him. Harry picked up the glass and took a sip—
"Yuck!" he grimaced. "It's so sweet…"
He seriously doubted that the sugar was free at Hogwarts; otherwise, they wouldn't put so much in the lemonade without considering the cost. Was this lemonade or lemon-flavored syrup?
"Looks like you didn't like it, what a pity." Dumbledore opened his hands, picked a beetle from a jar on the desk, and popped it into his mouth.
If Harry hadn't known it was a magical sweet, he would have spat it out immediately.
"You two still have people sleeping here!" A familiar voice came from one of the portraits on the wall. "My goodness, Albus, you should know that even when I was headmaster, I never met a student this late! No student!"
It was Phineas Black; Harry would recognize the voice no matter how much time had passed.
Don't look at me, don't look at me… Harry silently prayed, trying his best not to draw Black's attention.
But, as Murphy's Law dictates, the less we want something to happen, the more likely it is to occur.
After insulting Dumbledore, Phineas Black noticed Harry sitting in front of him.
"You are…?" He felt the figure was familiar but could not remember from where.
After a moment, an expression of recognition appeared on his face.
"Ha! I knew it! Let me see… Gryffindor…"
Dumbledore, thinking Phineas was about to start his theories about houses and bloodlines, interrupted immediately: "Delis, could you do me a small favor?"
"It would be a pleasure, Albus."
Headmistress Delis Derwent bowed and, rubbing her hands, led a group of headmasters out of the frame and into Phineas' portrait.
"You… what are you going to do?" Phineas asked, terrified.
The headmasters did not answer, but instead leapt onto him, tying him firmly to a chair and gagging him.
Phineas struggled for a moment, but then relaxed, ceasing resistance.
I never imagined this Gryffindor boy would survive Lanlock and even travel a hundred years into the future… Judging by his appearance, is he even younger after the time travel? Ha, so what?
Even if he were reduced to ashes, I, the headmaster, would still remember him!
But!
Phineas shot an angry look at Dumbledore outside the portrait frame. Who gave you the right to have me tied up? Even if you beg, don't expect me to tell the truth! Don't even think about it!
"Phineas is like that," Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "Actually, he is not a bad person, he is a good—"
He stopped speaking.
"A good headmaster?"
Harry tried to finish the sentence, but a shiver ran through his arms as he spoke it.
A good headmaster? Him? Phineas Black? By Merlin's eyes…
Dumbledore wore a complex, unreadable expression. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
He had truly endured seven years of Phineas' misdeeds at Hogwarts during Phineas' tenure as headmaster.
The headmasters in the surrounding portraits remained silent for a moment. Then someone, unnoticed, burst into laughter.
"My goodness, boy," said Headmistress Delis, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, out of breath. "If you had been at Hogwarts when Phineas was headmaster, you would have realized how hilarious what you just said was…"
Harry shrugged. He had been in the headmistress' office before, but only when he transformed into Phineas using Polyjuice Potion.
Besides, he didn't know the other headmistresses, so it was normal that they didn't recognize him.
"However, it must be admitted that, at least in terms of fostering unity between the houses, Phineas is unmatched by any other headmaster," said Headmistress Euphrasia Moore. "I'm sure even if the four great masters returned from the dead, they couldn't achieve this."
Phineas kicked his legs in protest, making the chair rattle loudly.
"The portraits are truly remarkable, aren't they?" Dumbledore raised his glass of lemonade toward the headmistresses in the frames.
Harry felt he shouldn't prolong the matter any further; he was still young and needed plenty of sleep.
"Well then, Headmaster," he said, "I think we should discuss what happened on the Quidditch pitch today."
"Go ahead," Dumbledore said, pulling another beetle and dipping it into the glass.
The beetle's two antennae emerged from the glass, swaying and even trembling quite realistically.
"I think my broom suddenly went out of control because someone cursed it," Harry said confidently. "My teammate reminded me."
"It was Hermione, wasn't it?" Dumbledore smiled. "There are very few witches her age who are smarter than she is—"
"So, what I want to ask is: why did the person who cursed my broom dare to do it in front of you?" Harry avoided eye contact with Dumbledore, staring at the glass in his hand. "Or rather, why are you so indifferent?"
"Someone is already trying to protect you, aren't they?" Dumbledore stroked his white beard, removing the beetle candy from his mustache.
Having finally removed the beetle from his beard, Dumbledore looked up and saw Harry still staring intently at the cup in his hand.
"You… are you afraid of me?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but did not seem surprised.
It would be strange if a student weren't afraid of the headmaster speaking in his office.
"No, Headmaster, I read about a type of magic in a book," Harry said. "It said this magic allows you to read someone's thoughts by looking directly into their eyes."
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