While Dumbledore stood before the ruins deep in thought, Iain was still rummaging through them, searching everywhere like a scrappy little scavenger digging through a dumpster for dinner.
"They even stole my champion bloodline cat!" Iain cried, sounding genuinely pained, with the sort of sorrow that said, This hurts more than losing my money.
"If I'd known this would happen, I would've bought insurance..." he sighed, grief stretching to the horizon. This was not the first time he had been betrayed by a pet.
It was, however, by far the most devastating time.
Dumbledore turned and looked at the little wizard, who was bent over in the rubble with his backside in the air. His gaze drifted from Iain to the overturned stones and shattered beams, as if confirming something, before he finally spoke in a calm, clear voice.
"You needn't blame yourself. I'll see this place rebuilt."
The old headmaster paused slightly.
"As for your pet, I'm afraid you must bear the loss. A cat with traces of magical beast blood is still unlikely to survive the flames of a dragon."
He was trying, in his own tactful way, to comfort the little wizard.
The only problem was that he clearly had not been listening very carefully. What he thought had happened and what had actually happened were not even close.
Of course, it was also possible that he simply could not tell. He truly could not tell when Iain was speaking the truth and when he was spinning some highly specific fantasy.
"Especially not the fire of a Hungarian Horntail. Most magical creatures couldn't endure that."
As he spoke, Dumbledore looked toward the unconscious dragon tied up in the distance, obviously aware that Voldemort had not been the one to blow up the house.
"No, Professor, we are spectacularly out of sync here!"
Iain stood up from the rubble, dusted off his hands, and turned around with obvious exasperation. He had already realized that Dumbledore had not actually been listening to him.
"I said my cat and all my stuff were stolen by a magical skeleton. I can still feel him, too, but I don't know where he ran off to. Damn it. I'm going to revoke his local residency."
Even as he said it, he did not cancel the magic sustaining the skeleton.
While speaking, one hand gripped the silver sword, the other held his wand, making him look very much like a king signing an expulsion decree.
Quite clearly, Iain just wanted to show off the Sword of Britain's King and get used to his future identity as Supreme Commander of Europe.
He intended to reclaim everything on behalf of Ancestor Arthur.
Iain's emotions were soaring.
Unfortunately, Dumbledore did not indulge him.
The old man merely looked at the tightly bound dragon and fell silent for a moment.
"My old friend Newt will take good care of this dragon," he said, glancing at the diary now tucked into Iain's trousers. "At least until its owner comes to collect it."
"It's not a dragon!" Iain frowned harder. "It's a giant lizard. A non-magical giant lizard that just happens to look like a Hungarian Horntail!"
That was the excuse he and the witch had already settled on.
His second innate magic absolutely could not be exposed. If it was, he would become the one true calamity feared by every wizard alive.
It was magic that extinguished magic, magic that could reduce a wizard to a Muggle.
Even if the effect only lasted for a while, no wizard in the world would hesitate to make Iain their enemy.
No one would dare gamble that in the future Iain might learn how to turn wizards into Muggles permanently, so even Dumbledore would probably feel a chill at the thought.
The witch had said she herself was an exception, because she had never feared the arrival of a new age.
To Iain's ears, that just sounded like praise, as if she were saying he was the most brilliant monster of the era.
So, naturally, he was delighted, and the two of them were basically on good terms again.
"Hogwarts does not allow dragons. Even if you used sweet talk to convince your older schoolmate to gift it to you, school rules still apply."
Dumbledore's tone was earnest and instructive. The old headmaster clearly felt the need to instill a few proper values before the boy arrived at school and became as lawless as that older student of his.
After all, when he had attended Hogwarts, he had been perfectly well-behaved. He had certainly not raised dragons there.
"I did not use sweet talk! She gave it to me willingly. She was worried I might do something to her puppet in the middle of the night, so she started currying favor with me on her own."
"I'm not that sort of repressed person, but what she said did give me an idea. I swear, I've discovered a path no one in Hogwarts history has ever considered!"
Iain's eyes gleamed.
Across all the heavens and worlds, there might truly be no one with wisdom quite like his.
He did not continue.
Because the old headmaster had already stepped up to him.
"You need to come with me to Hogwarts. At this point, I suspect I'll only sleep peacefully if I can keep an eye on you every day."
That was Dumbledore's conclusion after serious thought.
He could not bear to leave Iain here any longer, quietly terrifying the local dead. Since Hogwarts had chosen him, Hogwarts would simply have to take responsibility for him.
"Hm? Does this mean I'm enrolling early? Will all the new students have to call me upperclassman?"
Iain was instantly distracted.
"At most, you can call it getting used to school life ahead of time."
Dumbledore thought for a moment before answering. Then he paused again, looking at the boy's utterly untroubled face with a hint of approval.
"You don't seem nervous at all about going to Hogwarts. That's good."
He still preferred encouragement as a teaching method. At least, he had in recent years.
The reason he said that was simple. In Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, the version written by Iain, Hogwarts had come across as an unspeakably sinister place.
Dumbledore had assumed the boy had developed a rather alarming misunderstanding of the school.
And yet...
The little wizard showed not the slightest fear toward the Hogwarts from his own story, the one that supposedly devoured a hundred children every year just to keep its magic running.
"Why would I be nervous? I'm going to Hogwarts, not the Vatican."
Iain tilted his head, sounding sincerely puzzled.
"..."
Dumbledore's expression twitched again.
He had to admit that he truly did not understand the boy before him. Just as he still did not understand where the prophetic seer "Ak Loren," mentioned in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, was supposed to be. There appeared to be no such seer anywhere in Britain.
Although his thoughts were racing, Dumbledore remained outwardly calm. He lifted a hand and once more rested it on Iain's shoulder.
"Ready?"
"Mm."
Iain knew what was coming. He tightened his grip on what little property he had left.
The world began to spin.
When Iain opened his eyes again, he found himself in a completely quiet village.
The houses here were all stone-built, the lanes paved with flagstones, and flowers he couldn't name bloomed along the roadsides. In the distance, beyond a lakeshore, a mysterious castle rose from its island, turrets clustered high and sharp, glowing with ancient solemnity in the morning light.
That was Hogwarts.
"Iain, welcome to Hogsmeade."
And this place, of course, was the location of the famed Honeydukes, the only all-wizarding village in Britain.
"Yeah! This place doesn't lose to Diagon Alley at all! My gold coins are already itching to spend themselves!"
Iain tore his gaze away from the castle.
He swept his eyes over the shops: Honeydukes, The Three Broomsticks, the Hog's Head.
The little wizard was ready to spend until something exploded.
Good thing he still had a habit of hiding coins in the lining of his underwear.
"Before term begins, perhaps you can stay in this little house."
Dumbledore led Iain to a quiet corner and opened the door to a small wooden cottage.
"I'll investigate this magical skeleton you mentioned. And I'll try to find poor frightened Fawkes as well. I dearly hope that before tomorrow, you don't give this old man any further shocks."
This sounded like a heartfelt plea. Dumbledore's retreating figure carried the heavy caution of a man bracing for impact.
"Well, it's not just tomorrow. I'd also prefer not to run into anything troublesome the day after. I just want to study magic in peace at Hogwarts."
Iain did not have much luggage left now, so he could only stand there empty-handed, surveying the simple furnishings.
And just as he was about to pull out the money hidden in his pants and count it—
Clack.
The floor moved.
Iain turned his head.
Then he saw it.
A skull, white as snow, pushed up through the floorboards.
The little skeleton, filthy with dirt from head to toe, emerged from the opening, gripping Phoenix Fawkes by the neck like a chicken in one hand.
With the other hand, it was dragging Iain's enormous suitcase.
The opening in the floor was probably too small, though, because no matter how hard it tugged, it could not quite yank the case all the way through.
"Meow~"
Perhaps because it was straining too hard, its movements became too violent, and the handsome tabby cat slipped out from its pelvis and tumbled to the floor.
At last, the little skeleton could only turn and look toward the completely frozen Iain for help.
"What the—?"
Iain was genuinely stunned.
He had never imagined the little skeleton would come back.
And certainly not in such an... efficient way, complete with all his property.
Was he moved?
Of course he was.
But more than that, he was utterly baffled.
"You really are the living embodiment of an excavator, aren't you? You tunneled all the way from Godric's Hollow to Hogsmeade?!"
At last, the little wizard could no longer suppress his curiosity.
He marched straight toward the hole the skeleton had dug and started climbing in headfirst.
Even if he wound up buried alive down there, he was determined to find out what in the world this tunnel actually was.