The rain poured down even harder, the thunderous sound mixing with the surging waves crashing against the lake shore, as if ten thousand dragons were roaring around Hogwarts.
The temperature was unexpectedly low. As Ares walked, he found thin mist rising from the damp ground in many leaking corridors, just like the clouds rising between mountains in spring and autumn.
Yet, it was clearly well past the chilly spring; midsummer was just around the corner.
Ares's expression was not his usual sickly listlessness, but a calmness of someone who had seen through the ending.
It was as if the events about to befall him didn't exist at all.
With steps as calm as his expression, he climbed the small tower where Dumbledore's office was located, ready to face the outcome frankly.
Speaking of which, it was quite ironic—he had studied here for five years, yet he had never been to Dumbledore's office even once.
Of course, many students never set foot here throughout their entire student career at Hogwarts, and his only chance to enter was because he was about to be expelled.
"Go in, Ares. Professor Dumbledore wants to speak with you alone—"
Seeing Ares, Professor McGonagall, who was waiting at the door, stepped forward and put her arm around his shoulder, looking at his face with pity.
The boy, who was still three months shy of sixteen, was incredibly frail. Minerva could even feel his shoulder blade directly under her palm resting on his shoulder.
Objectively speaking, such a physique was never the type young girls would fancy.
But the problem was, this boy's appearance was simply too outstanding—clear black eyes, a high nose bridge, thin red lips. If not for the hint of masculine heroism between his brows and his short hair, it would be easy to mistake him for a girl.
However, everything had two sides.
Minerva lamented for Ares in her heart. She had never expected... she could even be certain that Ares hadn't expected either, that his handsome face would bring him such huge trouble.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall."
Ares's face was expressionless as he bowed slightly to Professor McGonagall.
"A piece of advice, Mr. Delfino—"
Severus stood in the shadow of the stone gargoyle, his expression cold but without the usual sarcasm he directed at Gryffindor students in class.
Before Ares stepped into Dumbledore's office, he spoke suddenly.
"Whatever questions you face, try to tell the truth—if you still want to stay."
The teenage Ares turned to face Professor Snape, raising a delicate eyebrow.
After a moment of silence, Ares bowed slightly again.
"Thank you too, Professor Snape."
With that, the teenage Ares stepped forward again and walked into the Headmaster's office.
Inside this legendary office, many magical creatures cast interested glances at Ares, including the portraits of former Headmasters on the curved walls, representing the history of this ancient magic school, and Fawkes the phoenix, almost a symbol of Albus Dumbledore.
Under the calm gaze of those blue eyes, Ares walked forward. As he passed the golden perch where the phoenix rested, Fawkes, who had been sleeping, suddenly opened his ruby-like eyes.
Screech—
Fawkes tilted his head, curiously examining Ares. Then, he suddenly flew down to the brazier below and rubbed his hard beak against Ares's shoulder and arm.
"Astonishing, Mr. Delfino—"
Even Dumbledore couldn't help but express surprise at Fawkes's unusual behavior.
"I've never seen Fawkes... show such friendliness to anyone. You are the only exception."
"I assume that's not my problem."
Ares spoke a barbed sentence with polite manners.
Dumbledore's silver eyebrows twitched imperceptibly. He scrutinized Ares, depth flowing in his eyes as profound as the starry sky—not because of this student's "defiance," but because of... the calmness Ares Delfino displayed... and his posture of equal dialogue.
The greatest wizard of the age continued to scrutinize Ares Delfino as he approached.
He never considered himself high and mighty or superior to others.
However, people were used to glamorizing his past... deifying him. Very few could display such calmness in front of him.
Dumbledore watched Ares sit down, watched Ares's gaze sweep over the parchments on the desk.
"This is your..."
"Homework since first year," Ares nodded, his handsome face expressionless as if petrified.
"I know, Professor Dumbledore. I also saw all my library records from the past five years registered by Madam Pince... Is there a problem with them?"
The vertical lines between Dumbledore's brows deepened, and the heart within his aged body beat with increasing unease.
After a long silence—
"No," Dumbledore said.
"There is absolutely no problem with your library records. I can't even find a single record of you entering the Restricted Section... From this perspective, the corrosion curse that hit Mr. Foley was indeed not cast by you, Ares."
"But?"
"But your homework—"
Dumbledore's tone deepened, his gaze piercing into Ares's eyes like an arrow.
"—presents some... puzzling aspects."
"Please give examples, Professor Dumbledore," Ares said, his tone still polite.
"You seem to be concealing your true level, Ares. You do it very subtly... but my intuition tells me my judgment is accurate—"
Dumbledore said.
"For example, at the end of May the year before last, Professor Flitwick assigned you an essay asking you to list as many spells as possible that can make people laugh happily. You gave two correct answers.
This question appeared again in the Charms final exam half a month later. You only listed one—a completely different spell from the ones listed in your homework.
Another example: in your second year, Professor Sprout asked you to write an essay on the precautions for repotting Mandrakes and their medicinal properties. That essay... was graded at least Acceptable by Professor Sprout.
Just three days later, Professor Snape asked you to write a foot-long Potions essay analyzing the specific effects of each ingredient in a potion. That potion contained Mandrake, and the answer you gave...
Oh, although I don't quite agree with Professor Snape's evaluation of your essay, you did... I mean, none of the points you made had any connection to the correct answer."
Every wrinkle on Dumbledore's aged face radiated seriousness. He interlaced his long fingers, staring deeply at Ares.
"Not to boast, Mr. Delfino, but I am very good at finding patterns in seemingly unrelated things... This is one of the few things I pride myself on."
In the suffocating air, Dumbledore's penetrating gaze held a cold sharpness deep within.
"I found at least a dozen similar issues in your homework... I believe they can't all be coincidences, can they?
So, this leads me to a conclusion: as a young wizard, your grades are actually excellent... probably far more excellent than Bill Weasley's, but you have been trying your best to appear inept."
The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows on Dumbledore's face. His eagle-sharp gaze never left Ares's eyes.
"Forgive me for not understanding your behavior, Mr. Delfino. This behavior also deviates from my understanding of the general habits of young people... So, can you satisfy an old man's occasional curiosity, Mr. Delfino?"