Early that morning, Dumbledore sat behind his desk, lifted a steaming cup of Early Tea, and took a small sip. The strong tea bloomed across his tongue, making all the muscles in his face scrunch together.
His gaze fell on the parchment atop the desk. After taking another large gulp of strong tea, he set the cup down with distaste, and the faint weariness in his eyes finally gave way to their usual sharpness.
"What a strange sight. You're drinking strong tea so early in the morning?" a lazy, mocking voice came from the portrait on his right.
Dumbledore paid no attention to Phineas's mockery and muttered to himself, "Honestly, getting up early is no easy matter for an old man who has lived for a century and often suffers from insomnia."
"Looks like you have an important guest this morning?" asked an elderly witch with silver curls.
"A student."
"What a surprise. Let me guess—which student could possibly make the renowned Albus Dumbledore receive them with such solemnity?" Phineas, dressed in a bathrobe, said in an extremely exaggerated tone. "Is it your precious savior, Harry Potter? Or that greedy little brat named Albert Anderson?"
"Oh, give it a rest, Phineas." The Red-Nosed Fat Wizard yawned. "I remember you called him Mr. Anderson quite respectfully last time."
Dumbledore ignored the daily exchanges among the portraits of former headmasters. His gaze returned to the parchment. The sender was Albert Anderson, who wished to visit at nine on the weekend morning.
In Dumbledore's impression, Mr. Anderson would hardly come looking for him without reason. More often, it was Dumbledore who invited him over for tea. Now that the boy had taken the initiative to visit, something important had clearly happened.
Dumbledore did not have to wait long before the oak door to