Dumbledore did not arrive alone.
Perched upon his shoulder was a magnificent crimson bird—
about the size of a swan,
with a long, golden tail and gleaming talons.
Fawkes.
A phoenix.
As a magical creature, a phoenix could Apparate freely—
even within Hogwarts, where such magic was normally restricted.
Lewis had no doubt—
this was how Dumbledore had returned so quickly after being lured away.
"Harry has a bit of a headache, but I'm fine," Lewis said first.
"…As for Professor Quirrell—"
He gestured ahead.
At the… puddle.
"Oh dear…"
Even Dumbledore's composure wavered slightly.
"What happened to him?"
"Possibly… because of Harry," Lewis replied carefully, sounding like an ordinary student.
"I saw him grab Harry's wrist, and suddenly he was in terrible pain. I thought… maybe Harry's skin could hurt him, like before."
His voice lowered.
"So I used a spell… and stuck his hands to Harry's wrist."
Harry, still clutching his head, nodded weakly.
"…."
Even Dumbledore fell silent.
Who would have thought—
the Dark Lord's plan would collapse because of something as simple as a sticking charm.
The world truly worked in strange ways.
Dumbledore sighed softly.
"Poor Quirrell… he was merely a victim of Tom's influence."
Then he looked at the two boys and smiled.
"I must apologize. It was my fault you faced this alone. It seems the owl I sent and Miss Granger's owl missed each other."
"I realized my mistake the moment I reached London… and returned immediately."
"…Though it appears you have already resolved the situation."
His gaze shifted to Harry—
and grew serious.
"We must get Mr. Potter to Madam Pomfrey at once."
He reached out—grasping both their wrists.
"This time, let's not stick anyone together," he added lightly, giving Lewis a knowing wink.
Lewis suspected that was meant to ease tension—
though honestly,
Quirrell melting into a puddle had been far more disturbing than anything else.
"Fawkes," Dumbledore said softly,
"take us to Madam Pomfrey."
Standing so close, Lewis couldn't help but observe the phoenix carefully.
To most people, such proximity to a phoenix was unimaginable.
They were rare, powerful, and beautiful creatures.
Their song inspired courage in the pure of heart—
and struck fear into the wicked.
Their tears could heal.
Their strength far exceeded their size.
And in this world—
they were almost never seen.
Domesticated phoenixes were even rarer.
Aside from Fawkes…
only a single Quidditch team in New Zealand was rumored to keep one as a mascot.
Lewis's thoughts drifted.
Could I use a phoenix as one of my Wild Shapes?
It could replace the owl-like form symbolizing wisdom—
which he still had no idea how to obtain.
New goal for next term: get a feather from Fawkes.
As he pondered—
a warm, gentle aura surrounded him.
Like sunlight.
Comforting.
Unlike the nausea of Apparition or Floo travel—
this felt… perfect.
Before he could fully savor it—
they had arrived.
The hospital wing.
Phoenix travel really is something else…
Lewis was now even more determined to get that feather.
Inside, he explained Harry's condition to Madam Pomfrey.
The healer immediately rushed Harry onto a bed and began treatment.
After some time, she relaxed slightly.
"It's nothing serious. He just needs a few days of rest."
She turned to them.
"Albus, Mr. Green—if there's nothing else, please leave. The boy needs quiet."
Outside the hospital wing, Lewis was about to take his leave—
but Dumbledore spoke first.
"Mr. Green,"
"after such an eventful evening, perhaps you would join me in my office for some refreshments?"
He smiled kindly.
"I would also like to hear more about your… adventure."
As expected.
Lewis had anticipated this the moment he chose to get involved.
If it had been Neville or Seamus—
they wouldn't have received such an invitation.
But Lewis was different.
Top of his year.
A recognized prodigy.
Dumbledore's attention was inevitable.
And refusing?
Not an option.
So Lewis nodded.
"Of course, Professor."
As they walked—
Dumbledore spoke casually.
"You know, Mr. Green… I have been observing you since you enrolled."
"You come from very humble origins, yet your talent and performance are exceptional. The professors admire you greatly—and the students respect you."
He paused.
"I once taught another student like you. Also from a Muggle orphanage. Brilliant… well-liked…"
His tone grew quieter.
"…but I was not as wise then."
Lewis's heart tightened.
He knew exactly who Dumbledore meant.
Still, he feigned curiosity.
"Who was he, Professor?"
Dumbledore smiled faintly.
"A boy as gifted as you… perhaps slightly less so. You are certainly better at Quidditch."
"…Unfortunately, he chose the wrong path."
Lewis said nothing.
They climbed a staircase together—
and arrived at the headmaster's office.
"Toffee Fingers."
The stone gargoyle rotated aside—
revealing the spiral staircase beyond.
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