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 it was 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, flipping 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 expertly pulled over a chair and sat down, looking up at the old man smiling at him.
"You have seemed rather anxious lately."
There was not much concern in Professor Dumbledore's words. They carried more puzzlement and incomprehension, as though he found it surprising that Albert could be anxious at all.
Albert glanced at the steaming black tea on the desk. Knowing another utterly pointless conversation lay ahead, he suddenly felt inexplicably helpless and irritated. So he said bluntly, "Because I don't feel safe."
"Because of your premonitions?"
Dumbledore recalled Professor Flitwick's exact words: He seems to lack a sense of security.
"Because I don't want to die at all," Albert said.
Watching Albert struggle desperately like a drowning child, Dumbledore fell into a long silence.
Honestly, Dumbledore did not believe anyone could threaten Albert's life.
Especially after Filius had spoken to him about Albert, he knew very well that the genius before him was far more formidable than he himself had been just after graduation.
With Albert's abilities, combined with his sharp mind and cautious nature, there