Albert had not gone to the headmaster to suggest a sparring match, but Professor Dumbledore had sought him out first. The timing was rather delicate, too, because today happened to be the last week of May. At nine that evening, the champions were due at the Quidditch Pitch, where the headmaster would tell them what the third task was. Yet he had asked Albert to visit the Headmaster's office at eight?
"Good evening, Professor."
Albert knocked on the door to the Headmaster's office right on time.
"Have a seat, Mr. Anderson."
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, leafing through a magazine. He looked up with a smile and gestured for Albert to find somewhere to sit.
"What did you want to see me about?"
Albert pulled over a chair with practiced ease and sat down, looking up at the old man smiling at him.
"You seem rather anxious lately."
There was little concern in Professor Dumbledore's voice. It held more confusion and puzzlement, as though he found Albert being anxious rather surprising.
Albert glanced at the steaming black tea on the desk and knew another empty conversation was coming. A sudden, inexplicable sense of helplessness and irritation rose in him, so he said bluntly, "Because I don't feel safe."
"Because of your premonitions?"
Dumbledore recalled Professor Flitwick's exact words: He seemed to lack any sense of security.
"Because I don't want to die," Albert said.
Watching Albert struggle like a drowning child, Dumbledore fell into a long silence.
To be honest, Dumbledore did not believe anyone could threaten Albert's life.
Especially after Phileas had spoken to him about Albert, he knew full well that the genius before him was far more formidable than he himself had been just after graduation.
With Albert's abilities, his clever mind, and his cautious nature, there