What goes around comes around!

A phoenix named Fawkes gently used its beak to tidy Ian's messy hair.

The atmosphere in the room had frozen slightly.

It was a staring contest.

Dumbledore's raised hand was left hanging in mid-air—keeping it up felt awkward, but lowering it felt equally strange. Despite having mastered Occlumency, the old man could not entirely mask the embarrassment on his face.

"It seems Fawkes is very fond of you. That is truly rare. Most of the time, Fawkes maintains a rather aloof attitude toward humans."

Dumbledore could only use words to break the somewhat awkward situation he had landed in.

"Professor..."

Ian knew very well that the fluffy bird perched on his head belonged without a doubt to one of the most terrifying creatures in the magical world. He looked to Dumbledore for help, trying his absolute best to keep his head balanced.

Though he had always felt a sense of curiosity toward phoenixes, it was like the story of Lord Ye's love for dragons; even a cat lover who adored lions would hardly want to exchange a greeting kiss with one.

"There is no need to worry. Phoenixes possess wisdom far surpassing that of humans. It is merely playing with you." Dumbledore's eyes behind his spectacles were now filled with astonishment.

He had genuinely never seen Fawkes show such intimacy toward anyone other than himself. Even those kind and brave young witches and wizards were never permitted by Fawkes to so intimately preen their "feathers."

Indeed.

Fawkes currently looked as though it were grooming Ian's feathers with the utmost affection.

"Madame Elena mentioned that you are quite fond of playing with birds in your daily life. Perhaps you possess an innate magical affinity for magical beasts, much like Master Newt Scamander."

This was probably the most logical explanation Dumbledore could come up with. It was common knowledge that only members of the Dumbledore family possessed the ability to summon a phoenix in times of crisis.

Such special and powerful magical creatures did not derive their lives from generational reproduction, but rather as a response to a certain bloodline possessed by the Dumbledore family.

Perhaps other families might harbor similar bloodlines.

However.

Regarding Fawkes specifically, the phoenix had been born for Albus Dumbledore, and its will and emotions should theoretically share a profound connection exclusively with Albus Dumbledore.

"Newt Scamander? Is he the author of *Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them*?" Ian still dared not move rashly, trying his best to keep his body and head balanced.

Tycoon billionaires from Dubai might claim their pet lions were docile, but would any of those billionaires' servants dare to test that theory?

"Yes, he is an old friend of mine, and we once fought side by side as close companions." Dumbledore gazed at the boy and the bird before him, his eyes flickering slightly in an inexplicable manner.

"If he knew there was a child like you at the school, he might no longer refuse my recruitment invitations. It seems I will need to write a tempting letter to Newt upon my return."

A look of anticipation appeared on Dumbledore's face.

"Um, I personally feel that I don't have any such talent... I only feel like your bird is toying with me..." Ian could feel the phoenix moving atop his head.

It had already begun grooming Ian's eyebrows. This danger zone, located merely a hair's breadth away from his eyeballs, made Ian terribly worried that he might suddenly be pecked.

Heaven knew if a phoenix possessed any curiosity about rolling eyeballs.

It was too terrifying.

Who could have imagined that an expert at handling birds would one day find himself being handled by an actual bird!

"Alright, Fawkes, it is time for us to return."

Dumbledore perceived Ian's tension and finally issued a summons to the phoenix.

"Chirp-chirp!"

After letting out a reluctant cry, the phoenix finally responded to Dumbledore's call. It lifted gently from the top of Ian's head, transformed into a streak of red light, and returned to Dumbledore's side.

"If you ever need any assistance, you are welcome to come find me or Professor Snape. Though he wears a cold exterior, he is warm at heart, and both of us would be more than happy to help you solve any difficulties."

Whether Dumbledore's words referred to magical research or other matters remained unclear. He smiled and waved at Ian, then vanished instantly from the room along with the phoenix.

The spatial undulations gradually subsided.

As the quiet living room returned to its stillness, Ian was left entirely by himself, lingering in a state of lingering fear.

Perhaps because he was still too shaken.

He failed to notice a delicate pattern slowly fading from the back of his hand—in truth, not even Dumbledore had noticed it glowing just moments before.

Perhaps.

It was because no one other than Ian could see it.

...

"Whoosh~"

A distortion rippled through space.

Dumbledore's figure materialized in a corridor of Hogwarts Castle.

Night had fallen.

The castle corridors were draped like a layer of soft, mysterious moonlight. Ancient wall sconces lined both sides of the winding corridor, casting a dim and warm glow.

"Fawkes, you were a bit too discourteous today; you frightened that child." Dumbledore walked over to a window, the phoenix resting upon his shoulder.

"Chirp-chirp!"

The fiery red phoenix let out a soft trill.

"You mean to say... you believe he requires your care?" Dumbledore did not speak the language of phoenixes, but after all, he had lived with Fawkes for many years.

"Chirp!"

The phoenix responded once more.

"How incredible... Two extraordinary children, it seems."

A night breeze swept in through the window.

Dumbledore gazed out at the moon beyond the glass. His aged face remained calm, yet within those deep, captivating eyes, the distinct reflections of a young man and a young woman seemed to dance.

He was thinking.

He was doubting.

He was murmuring softly under his breath.

"I only hope... it is not as I imagine..."

The old man's figure appeared somewhat stooped in the night wind, laden with a sense of exhaustion.

And right at that moment.

"Clack, clack, clack~"

Footsteps sounded.

A man entirely enveloped in black robes emerged from the depths of the castle, carrying several boxes in his hands as the scent of medicinal herbs began to permeate the air.

"Severus."

Dumbledore did not turn around, yet he accurately called out the newcomer's name.

"Hah, Albus, it seems you are suffering from insomnia once again. Perhaps I could provide you with a draught of Dreamless Sleep to at least spare you the torment of a night of nightmares."

Snape halted his steps with a humorless smile.

"I have merely just returned from outside."

Dumbledore finally turned his head, glancing at the boxes in Snape's hands. "Although I do indeed feel that I will suffer from insomnia tonight, I still wish to rid myself of my reliance on potions."

Faced with this reply.

Snape merely nodded.

"A foolish choice."

His tongue remained as sharp as ever.

"Aren't you supposed to be brewing Felix Felicis?"

From the herbs in Snape's hands, Dumbledore deduced what Snape had been working on, which served perhaps as a way to change the subject.

"If you wish to take medicine, I shall be available all night."

Snape resumed his steps, walking toward his office.

And just then.

"Wait a moment."

Dumbledore spoke up abruptly.

"Changed your mind?"

Snape turned his head with an expressionless face.

"I merely wish to make a request regarding something else. Of course, this request is merely to satisfy my own curiosity, and I hope you will not develop any misunderstandings because of it."

Dumbledore seemed to be weighing his words. Seeing the impatient look cross Snape's face, he lowered his voice with some hesitation and asked:

"When you have a moment, could you go back and check the genealogy of the Prince family, and see if within the last five generations, the Prince family has ever intermarried with the Dumbledore family?"

The same corridor.

The exact same two people.

However.

This time.

It was Snape's turn to be utterly dumbfounded.