Headmaster Dumbledore

Silas plunged from the bustle of Piccadilly Circus into a dim alley, his heart still pounding. The commotion and a few startled cries from outside the alley clearly indicated his "stunning entrance" had drawn attention. Leaning against the cold brick wall, he gasped for air, trying to calm his chaotic thoughts.

"I'm doomed, I'm doomed... This is going to be a huge problem." He clutched his forehead, a headache blooming. Not only had he been caught by his Auror uncle, but he'd also put on a massive magic show in the middle of London (which probably looked like a supernatural event to Muggles). This mess was far more serious than simply flying underage.

As he pondered his next move—whether to keep randomly escaping through portals or just find a phone booth to call home and surrender (though they'd likely dismiss it as a prank)—footsteps and voices echoed from the alley entrance.

A few stylishly dressed young people, seemingly drawn by the commotion, peered curiously into the alley. When they spotted the child in the strange, dark blue robe and crimson cloak huddled in the corner, their expressions shifted to surprise and curiosity.

Silas's heart tightened. In a moment of desperation, an absurd idea popped into his head. He took a deep breath, trying to strike a composed pose like a superhero in a movie (despite his height and age being wildly mismatched). Facing the young people, he said in the most serious tone he could muster:

"Hey! Guys! Ever read Marvel comics? I'm Doctor Strange, believe me. That was just... a little spatial teleportation trick."

He expected to see shock, admiration, or at least confusion. However, reality was harsh.

The young people blinked in surprise, then exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. One of them, with green hair, pointed at Silas, doubled over with laughter. "Hahahaha! Doctor Strange? Kid, have you gone too deep into cosplay? Did you buy that cloak from a Halloween store? The props are pretty realistic!"

Another girl, barely suppressing her laughter, said, "Hurry home, little one, your mom must be worried. Doctor Strange wouldn't get lost in a little alley like this."

Their eyes held a kind of teasing, perhaps a bit condescending, but not a shred of belief.

Silas's face instantly turned beet red, so embarrassed his toes could have burrowed through three rooms. He finally realized how chuunibyo and unreliable his explanation sounded to ordinary people. They were far more likely to believe it was a prank or a child's fantasy than to believe a kid was a superhero.

"Uh..." All his explanations caught in his throat, leaving only immense awkwardness. "Goodbye!"

He couldn't stand it any longer. Turning around, he frantically drew circles in the air, just wanting to escape the mortifying scene as quickly as possible. Sparks flew again, and a more unstable portal than before opened rapidly. Without looking, he plunged headfirst into it.

After a dizzying sensation of weightlessness and distorted colors, he landed heavily on damp grass. The cold air, carrying the scent of grass and earth, hit him.

Wincing, he got to his feet and looked around. Under the moonlight, rolling green hills stretched out, with sparse woods and low stone walls in the distance. The wind howled around him, and not a single city light was visible.

"Where is this now?" Silas was dumbfounded. He had intended to open a portal back home. "Some wilderness in Wales? Or the Scottish Highlands? Wasn't I trying to go home...?"

His knowledge of British geography was limited to major cities; this kind of remote wilderness was completely beyond his understanding. The cold night wind blew, making him shiver. His Levitating Cloak seemed to sense his chill, tightening around him and offering a sliver of warmth, but it couldn't dispel his anxiety about being lost.

"No, I have to try again. This time, I'll focus hard on what home looks like!" He encouraged himself, raising his hands again, trying to recall every detail of his bedroom: the Lego on the windowsill, the bedside lamp, the pattern on the rug...

He concentrated intently, guiding the energy with his fingertips, carefully drawing a circle. This time, the ring of sparks was much more stable, and the image appearing inside gradually became clearer—it was his familiar bedroom! The warm light, the messy desk, he could even see the teddy bear he often hugged on the bed!

"Success!" Silas rejoiced inwardly and lifted his foot to step through.

However, just as he was about to enter the portal, the image inside flickered, and a tall figure stepped out, standing directly in front of Silas and blocking his path.

The newcomer wore a long, purple wizard robe embroidered with stars and moons. His hair and beard were snow-white, and he wore half-moon spectacles. His blue eyes twinkled sharply and curiously behind the lenses as he looked at Silas with a gentle smile.

Silas froze as if petrified, his mouth agape, eyes wide.

"Oh... no..." Only these two words echoed in his mind. It was over. He was truly caught, and by the ultimate boss... no, by Hogwarts' Headmaster Albus Dumbledore himself, in the middle of nowhere!

He instinctively shrank into himself like a startled quail and mumbled softly, "H-hello, sir."

Dumbledore's gaze swept over Silas's wizard robe and Levitating Cloak. A flicker of extreme surprise crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a gentle smile. His voice was calm, carrying a reassuring power, "There, there, child, no need to be so stiff. In fact, I am very interested in the spell you just cast, one that seems independent of our traditional magical system."

Silas's heart skipped a beat. Independent of the traditional system? He could tell? Just then, he keenly felt an indescribable, gentle probing sensation brush across the surface of his mind. Legilimency!

A strong sense of revulsion and displeasure surged through him. Silas (with his modern soul) highly valued privacy and especially detested such unauthorized mental intrusion. His mind immediately began to frantically, illogically scroll, trying to interfere with the other person:

[Old Honeybee, get out! Don't use Legilimency on me!]

[Go away, go away!]

[Don't look!]

[I'll curse you if you keep looking!]

[Go away, go away, go away!]

His logic was simple and crude: if Dumbledore wasn't probing, he wouldn't know Silas was cursing him in his mind, so there was no loss. If he was probing, then he was in the wrong, and Silas cursing him was perfectly justified, with no psychological burden.

The smile on Dumbledore's face paused slightly. A flicker of understanding, and perhaps a hint of apology, crossed his bright blue eyes. He shook his head gently, his voice still mild, "It's alright, child. I assure you, I do not pry into anyone's memories; that is a very impolite act. You don't need to try to interfere with me in this way."

Silas inwardly ranted: [Then you're still sensing my surface thoughts, aren't you?! That 'I'm just looking at the door, not coming in' excuse is a lie! Old fox!]

But outwardly, he tried to maintain a compliant (or rather, terrified) demeanor, not daring to voice his inner thoughts.

Dumbledore seemed oblivious to the turmoil within him. He glanced at the desolate surroundings. The November wind had turned Silas's nose tip red. The Headmaster smiled and suggested, "I think we can find a place to talk properly. This is hardly a good spot for a conversation, don't you agree? Perhaps we could go somewhere a bit more comfortable than the British outdoors in November, like... my office?"

He extended his ringless hand, his attitude friendly, but his eyes held an undeniable authority.

Silas looked at Dumbledore, then at the dark Welsh wilderness behind him, knowing he had no choice. He swallowed and nervously nodded. The Levitating Cloak seemed to sense the power of the old man before him, lying flat and still on Silas's back, no longer making any fidgety movements.