Vincent's arrival filled the once deathly silent Headmaster's Office with joy. Naturally, Headmaster Black wanted to report him to the Ministry of Magic, but unfortunately, he couldn't.
"I'm furious!" Headmaster Black's flared nostrils heaved as his head lolled to one side, and he fainted from rage.
Headmaster Dippet raised both hands, easily winning this tense and thrilling contest.
The remaining headmasters stopped pretending to sleep as well, unanimously offering the victor their most enthusiastic applause.
Dumbledore shook his head and sat down at the little round table. "Child, you really know how to stir things up."
Vincent spread his hands innocently. "It's all Headmaster Black's fault. He was the one who provoked me first."
Dumbledore chuckled soundlessly and looked sympathetically at the unconscious Headmaster Black in the portrait.
If Vincent had been born a century earlier, this most unpopular headmaster in history might truly have been angered to death.
Dumbledore waved a hand, and the fragrance of tea curled into the air. The previously empty teapot immediately filled with light brown black tea.
"Would you like some more snacks?"
Vincent was about to decline when an exquisite plate laden with candies and desserts appeared on the little round table.
"Professor, prolonged excessive sugar intake can slow metabolism and acidify the blood, causing reduced immunity and accelerated aging."
Dumbledore smiled dismissively, reached for the plate, picked up a classic Fizzing Whizbee, and popped it into his mouth with an expression of pure enjoyment.
"Sugar stimulates the brain to release dopamine and can help improve one's mood."
Vincent pursed his lips and looked at the black dragon-hide glove on Dumbledore's left hand.
The glove had been enchanted with several spells: continuous healing, pain relief, resistance to corrosion... Months had passed, yet the damage Voldemort had inflicted on his left hand remained.
Vincent