“Cockroach Clusters?” Standing before Potter Cottage, Harry stared at the old man beside him with an expression of pure disgust.
Don’t think he didn’t know what Cockroach Clusters were.
The nerve of him, trying to get Harry to taste such bizarre candy!
The old man was bad news!
And Ian was just as bad—did he think Harry was just some brainless glutton, or did he think he was out of his mind?
With those thoughts swirling in his head, Harry took a discreet step to the side, widening the distance between them.
The smile on the old man’s face instantly froze.
Ian, stepping off the bottom stair, caught this moment in full view.
He chuckled inwardly, giving Harry a silent nod of approval for his move.
Opportunities to see Dumbledore caught off guard didn’t come around often.
Ian strode over, ignoring the awkward look on the old man’s face, and wrapped him in a warm, overly enthusiastic hug.
“Professor Dumbledore, long time no see!” Dumbledore blinked, clearly caught off guard by Ian’s bold and exaggerated welcome.
Though Ian had been rather unremarkable during his school years, Dumbledore actually remembered him somewhat, thanks to Lily.
He was quite sure Ian hadn’t been anything like this back in his student days.
Still, the venerable wizard had lived through far too much to stay rattled for long.
Behind his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled, and the corners of his mouth curved into a subtle smile.
Shooting a sly wink at the stunned Harry, he clapped Ian heavily on the back, responding with equal warmth, “Indeed, Mr.
Evans!
Long time no see!” “Cough, cough, cough!” Ian was hit so hard he nearly lost his breath.
Coughing twice, he released his grip and feigned a complaint.
“Headmaster, you certainly have a lot of strength in you.” “Seeing you so energetic gives me peace of mind!” As Ian caught his breath, he muttered internally, The old man’s got a grip like a vise!
“Heh heh, is that so?” Dumbledore’s eyes flashed with amusement, seemingly entertained by Ian’s banter.
“Then I had better try to live a few years longer.
To tell you the truth, I’ve felt lately as though my age is catching up with me.” Ian pretended not to understand whatever riddles the old man was spinning.
Shaking his head, he smoothly went along with Dumbledore’s words.
“Nonsense, Headmaster, absolute nonsense.” “If you ask me, you’ve simply stayed cooped up in the castle for too long.
A bit of fresh air and movement will do you good.” “When I was traveling in the East, I met many elderly folk who made a wonderful habit of taking daily strolls in the park.
I think you should try it!” Dumbledore merely gave a gentle smile, offering no reply.
He could see right through it: the present Ian was a slippery little fox, no longer the quiet, unassuming Hufflepuff from years ago.
Yet while the change in Ian was considerable, Dumbledore had witnessed far too much over his lifetime, and he naturally formed his own guesses.
The first possibility was that Ian had always been this way by nature, merely learning to keep a low profile during his school years—after all, a Dark Lord had been terrorizing the land back then.
The second possibility was that Ian had suffered some monumental hardship over the past eleven years, altering his personality drastically.
Dumbledore leaned toward the former.
Regardless, Dumbledore knew he could no longer judge the student before him using his old impressions.
What was more, he could sense that Ian’s current magical strength was hardly inferior to his own.
That realization caused a faint flicker of concern to stir within him.
Right at that moment, Harry finally snapped out of his shock at meeting the living Dumbledore.
“You…
you’re Headmaster Dumbledore?” Harry stared wide-eyed, pointing at Dumbledore’s crooked, twice-broken nose with an expression of sheer disbelief.
Hearing Harry’s gasp, Dumbledore turned his attention back to the boy.
After all, Harry was the real reason for his visit today.
It had all begun when Hagrid returned to Hogwarts the previous night…
Rewinding time to the previous evening.
Hogwarts, the Headmaster’s Office!
“So, Hagrid, you didn’t see Harry at all?” Seated in his grand chair, Dumbledore listened to Hagrid’s account, his expression turning grave.
Hagrid nodded repeatedly, completely certain.
“That’s right, Dumbledore.
By the time I arrived at that family’s house, Harry was already gone.
They said his uncle had taken him away.” Saying this, he slapped his own forehead with a smack that sounded painful, groaning in dismay.
“If only I’d gone a bit earlier!
According to those folks, I was late by a mere ten minutes!” Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully at this revelation.
Harry’s special significance to the British wizarding world was beyond question.
The level of public scrutiny on him was astronomical; one could safely say that every young wizard born after the Dark Lord’s fall had grown up listening to the legend of Harry Potter.
In other words, Harry was the ultimate superstar of the wizarding world—any news involving him could generate a sensation.
(Gilderoy Lockhart: Exactly!
That would be me!) That was precisely why Dumbledore had tasked Hagrid with visiting Number Four, Privet Drive.
He had very few people he could truly trust, and Hagrid was one of them.
“Ian Evans!” Dumbledore repeated the name under his breath, showing none of the panic Hagrid had anticipated.
After a long silence, he looked up at Hagrid and asked, “Hagrid, do you have any impression of Mr.
Evans?” “Ian Evans?” Hagrid’s thick eyebrows knitted tightly as he racked his brain for any memory of Ian.
Regrettably, all he could recall was that Ian was Lily’s younger brother; beyond that, his mind was a complete blank.
Suddenly, Hagrid clapped his hands together, his face lighting up with excitement.
“Professor!
He was a Hufflepuff!” The smile on Dumbledore’s face visibly faltered for a fraction of a second, though he still warmly saw Mr.
Hagrid out.
Once Hagrid had completely left, the smile faded entirely from Dumbledore’s face.
He couldn’t help but wonder why he placed such unquestioning trust in Hagrid.
It wasn’t as if Hagrid’s ancestors had Veela blood in them, after all.
As for Ian Evans, Dumbledore only remembered him as Lily’s younger brother.
Compared to Lily’s brilliant talent, Ian had seemed entirely unremarkable back then.
Now, however, Dumbledore was beginning to realize that things were far from as simple as he had imagined.
“Mr.
Evans, I look forward to our meeting!” Dumbledore murmured, gazing out the window at the peaceful Black Lake, an unreadable light flickering in his eyes.
Back in the present, Ian was naturally unaware that Dumbledore had already turned his sharp eye toward him.
He casually took a subtle step forward, positioning himself squarely between Dumbledore and Harry.
“Professor, I wasn’t aware that today…” Before Ian could finish his sentence, Harry poked his head out from behind him, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Dumbledore.
Left with no choice, Ian shot Harry a warning glare, which finally got the boy to behave.
Dumbledore paid no mind to Ian’s defensive posture.
Smiling pleasantly, he stroked his long, silver-white beard and pulled a paper bag from inside his robes.
“Harry, perhaps you would care to try one of these?” he offered gently, a rustling sound coming from inside the bag.
“Honeydukes’ latest creation, an improved version of Cockroach Clusters—this time with a crunchy chocolate shell and a soft strawberry center.” Upon hearing this, the look of disgust on Harry’s face grew twice as pronounced.
He shook his head frantically and shrank even further behind Ian’s back.
Catching a glimpse of the playful gleam at the back of Dumbledore’s eyes, Ian felt a wave of helpless exasperation.
This was precisely why he disliked dealing with cryptic figures like him; you never knew how many hidden meanings lay behind a single word.
Dumbledore was like this, and Gandalf was no different.
“Professor,” Ian cleared his throat, his tone carrying a hint of amused resignation.
“Let’s stick to business first.
You didn’t make a special trip to Potter Cottage just to promote sweets, did you?” With that, Ian cast a glance at the contents of the paper bag, his face twisting into an expression of disgust identical to Harry’s.
They say a nephew takes after his uncle, and though Westerners didn’t share that exact idiom, the identical expressions on their faces left Dumbledore momentarily stunned.
“Professor?” “Professor?” Seeing Dumbledore standing there frozen, Ian couldn’t help but wave a hand in front of his eyes.
Snapping out of his daze, Dumbledore seemed to let go of some lingering worry, his face softening once more into that comforting, gentle smile.
“Mr.
Evans, I came today to discuss the arrangements for Harry’s enrollment.” “Enrollment arrangements?” Both of them frowned simultaneously at the words.
They had already purchased everything listed on the acceptance letter and were simply waiting for the term to start.
What enrollment arrangements could there possibly be?
Seeing their confusion, Dumbledore explained, “Hogwarts never received a reply from Harry, so yesterday I asked Mr.
Hagrid to check on his situation, only to find…” Ian slapped his own forehead in sudden realization.
“I completely forgot!” Harry’s eyes darted back and forth as he remembered that the letter had indeed requested a response, and he awkwardly rubbed his nose.
A second later, however, he glared right at Ian’s back.
Ian was a Hogwarts graduate!
How could he possibly forget something so important?
Sensing Harry’s gaze, a flash of embarrassment crossed Ian’s face, and he shot a glare back over his shoulder.
I graduated years ago!
How am I supposed to remember such tiny details?
Reading the silent message in Ian’s eyes, Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes, mouthing two words: “Sure, right!” Seeing this, Ian nearly turned green with annoyance.
This brat is beyond saving!
That was the final thought flashing through Ian’s mind.
Left standing to the side, Dumbledore showed no awkwardness at being ignored by the two.
Instead, he simply watched them with a fond, knowing smile.
He could tell that compared to before, Harry had opened up considerably today, and Ian’s affection for the boy was entirely genuine—and that was more than enough.
Having confirmed Harry’s safety, Dumbledore took the opportunity to bid his farewells.
Only then did Ian realize they had somewhat neglected the Headmaster, and he offered a series of hasty apologies.
“My apologies, Headmaster.
I will write a reply and send it over as soon as possible.
Thank you for taking the trouble!” Dumbledore shook his head gently, indicating he didn’t mind.
He swept a glance over the interior of Potter Cottage, a flicker of quiet sorrow passing through his eyes.
“Think nothing of it.
Perhaps you were right—an old man really ought to get out and walk around more.” With that, the old wizard turned to leave, his silhouette appearing strikingly lonely as he walked toward the door.
Just as Dumbledore was about to step across the threshold, Ian called out loudly behind him: “Headmaster Dumbledore, may I ask if the Board of Governors has approved the Herbology teaching assistant position that Professor Sprout submitted?”