41: The black tea suddenly lost its sweetness.

"Finite Incantatem?"

The old man walking slowly down the cobblestone street did not chant a spell. Ian, naturally, could not make an accurate judgment based on that. He could only sense an invisible hand halting the runaway magical process. The moment the scorching light vanished, it was as if the entire world had dimmed, and a faint, lingering scent of smoke permeated the air. It was perhaps the only evidence that a great fire had ever existed.

Moonlight pierced through the clouds. Under the veil of night, everything seemed as if it had never happened. Even the fence that had been burned to the ground was restored to its original state.

"Headmaster Dumbledore..." Ian recognized the approaching old man and lowered his head in embarrassment. While he felt a sense of worry and trepidation, he also harbored some confusion—why would Dumbledore come to Hogsmeade in the middle of the night?

"I prefer it when you young wizards call me Professor; it makes me seem less stuffy than I might appear." Dumbledore reached Ian quickly. He did not reprimand Ian for his recklessness, but instead teased himself with a playful tone.

"Understood, Professor Dumbledore." Ian corrected himself immediately.

"Won't you invite me in for a seat?" Dumbledore looked toward the door of the wooden cabin.

"My apologies, I must have been a bit stunned." Ian hurriedly pushed open the door and gestured for him to enter. He felt uneasy, unsure of what Dumbledore’s intentions were. His mind-reading ability could perceive Snape's emotions, but it didn't work nearly as well on the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"I certainly didn't expect to run into a daring wizard on my way back to the castle—someone actually bold enough to attempt creating a new spell right on their own doorstep." Dumbledore walked in, sighing with emotion. He glanced around the tidy living room, looked toward the direction of Ian's bedroom, and finally chose to sit at the desk by the window.

"That could hardly be called creation; it was more of a disaster." Ian hurried to the tea table and poured a cup of black tea for Dumbledore.

"At the very least, you have embarked on this path, and that is profoundly significant." Dumbledore produced a bag of brown sugar from nowhere and began pouring it heavily into the tea.

It was a direct compliment, yet Ian could not bring himself to be happy. "If not for your help, Professor, I fear I would have caused a catastrophic disaster." He did not wait for Dumbledore to reproach him, choosing instead to preemptively conduct a self-critique. "I shouldn't have attempted such a dangerous experiment; I nearly burned down the entire village. What a fool I am!" Looking back, Ian was genuinely shaken.

His pained reflection and self-reproach left Dumbledore momentarily stunned. Then, the old man shook his head with a faint, amused smile.

"For a young wizard like you, we cannot be too harsh." Dumbledore did not look up at Ian, appearing focused on mixing his tea. "I only hope that this harrowing encounter allows you to take to heart that, on the path of exploring magic, 'prudence' is far more important than any other quality."

In the quiet wooden cabin, Dumbledore’s earnest words were gentle yet filled with weight.

"I will take your teachings to heart." Ian nodded with utmost sincerity.

"Relax a little. Perhaps... you should put on your clothes and trousers first." Dumbledore suddenly smiled. Only then did Ian realize he was only wearing his underwear.

"It's fine, consider it a bit of a breeze," Ian said, his face flushing slightly, though he tried to act casual.

"????" Dumbledore’s expression was slightly bewildered.

"Professor, are you here specifically to see me?" Ian seized the opportunity to ask. He did not think Dumbledore lived in Hogsmeade under normal circumstances.

"No." As expected, the old bee-keeper shook his head and took a sip of his tea, which was now filled with a "lethal" amount of sugar. "I was just here to deliver a notice, and I happened to see the fire on my way back."

"Actually, I have been observing you from not far away for a while now, and I must say..." A flash of complexity crossed Dumbledore's eyes, and he continued in an amazed tone, "Your way of understanding magic is quite different from most wizards." He was clearly referring to the study of magical circuits, something many wizards would never delve into deeply throughout their entire lives.

"Oh?" Ian feigned ignorance, still carrying a trace of trepidation.

"Do not worry, this is not a bad thing. It belongs to a kind of... talent that only a few possess." Behind Dumbledore’s thick-rimmed glasses lay a pair of profound eyes. "I heard you learned Snape's *Sectumsempra*?" he asked suddenly, appearing curious.

"Oh?" Ian paused, then nodded. Although Snape had warned him not to tell anyone, since Dumbledore had already asked, refusing to answer might be seen as disrespecting a master of Legilimency. Regardless, Ian dared not gamble. "It wasn't that I wanted to learn it; Professor Snape held me down and told me that if I didn't learn it, he would lock me in an incredibly evil place." Ian maintained his policy of telling the truth, but not the whole truth, vividly describing Snape's coercion and how weak and pitiful he had been.

However, Dumbledore clearly didn't care about his story. "How long did it take to learn?"

The old bee-keeper sipped his tea as if it were a casual matter.

"An hour?" Ian lied. There was no helping it; if he didn't lie, heaven knows what unnecessary misunderstandings might arise from the fact that he could master Dark Magic in an instant. "It was mostly because Professor Snape is such a good teacher!" he added, not forgetting to cover his tracks.

"..." Dumbledore did not respond. He used a conjured stick to stir the tea, not taking another sip. "I think I understand..." Dumbledore turned to look at the starry sky outside the window. "You will surely achieve great things, child. Never let your brilliant..."

Before he could finish his sentence, a faint and strange ripple emerged in the air. Immediately afterward, a flash of brilliant red light appeared as a red phoenix flapped its wings and flew out. Its feathers were like dazzling radiance in the dim room, breathtakingly beautiful.

"Mr. Prince, it seems tonight's tea party must end here." Dumbledore set down his cup, stood up, and straightened his slightly wrinkled white robes. He seemed to suddenly remember something. "A small hint: magic circuits are not the direct cause of magic's birth. You might want to shift your focus as you pursue the path of magic."

Dumbledore spoke concisely.

"Shift my focus?" Ian was lost in thought.

By then, Dumbledore had already raised his arm, waiting for the phoenix to land. However, neither he nor the pensive Ian expected that after circling the room a few times, the phoenix would dive down from the ceiling.

Its two talons landed directly on Ian’s head.