The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, every step landing on taut nerves. Ares could clearly hear his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, and he could feel the magical fluctuations radiating from Tom beside him, tense as a drawn bowstring. Sister Martha walked ahead, and even her back betrayed an unusual nervousness.
At last, they stopped before the dark wooden door to Mrs. Cole's office. Sister Martha knocked, and Mrs. Cole's voice came from within, more solemn than usual. "Come in."
The door was pushed open.
The first thing Ares saw was the office's dust-covered window and the gray, overcast sky beyond it. Then his gaze was firmly drawn to the person sitting in the old armchair across from Mrs. Cole.
He was not the white-haired, white-bearded old man Ares had imagined. He had thick, long auburn hair and a neatly trimmed beard of the same color, though a few silver strands could already be seen at the ends. He wore a long robe, rich and luxurious in color like crimson velvet, embroidered with indistinguishable silver runes. It clashed utterly with the orphanage's dim, dilapidated surroundings, like a classical oil painting mistakenly set in a cheap frame. A pair of Half-moon Spectacles rested on his nose, and behind the lenses were astonishingly sharp eyes, blue as the purest sapphires.
Albus Dumbledore. Even twenty years younger, the calm yet powerful presence around him was enough to make this small office feel cramped.
Mrs. Cole sat behind her desk with a complicated expression, mingling respect, confusion, and a faint concern that was difficult to detect.
The instant the door opened, Dumbledore's gaze swept over them like an impeccably precise searchlight, landing first on Tom. His eyes were gentle, yet they carried a power that seemed capable of piercing every disguise, as though he could see straight into the color of one's soul.
"This is Tom Riddle?" Dumbledore's voice was calm and magnetic, like warm honey, yet it made Ares feel an invisible pressure.
"Yes, Professor," Mrs. Cole hurriedly replied. Then she looked at Ares, hesitating slightly. "This is Ares Phoenix. He... he is also one of our children." She seemed unsure how to explain Ares's presence, especially before this extraordinary professor.
Only then did Dumbledore's gaze slowly turn to Ares.
At that very instant, Ares clearly saw the calm in Dumbledore's sapphire-blue eyes split open like ice cracking apart. His pupils contracted slightly, and his gaze, as though drawn by a magnet, fixed firmly on Ares's face—or, more precisely, on his mismatched eyes and the Golden Blood Pact Markings winding down from beneath his left eye, faintly glimmering in the room's light.
Time seemed to freeze for several seconds.
Ares could feel an extremely faint yet unmistakable disturbance in the gentle magical field around Dumbledore, like a deep-water bomb dropped into a tranquil lake. His gaze was filled with incredulous shock, profound confusion, and a kind of... recollection and pain, as though he had seen an impossible ghost intimately tied to the past.
[High-intensity mental fluctuations detected! (⊙?⊙) Source: Albus Dumbledore! His attention toward the host has instantly surpassed that toward Tom Riddle!]
Tom had clearly noticed the abnormal scrutiny as well. He frowned slightly, and a flash of displeasure and deeper vigilance passed through his black eyes. This "professor's" excessive attention toward Ares gave him an unsettling sense that things were slipping beyond his plans.
Dumbledore quickly reined in his lapse, but his gaze still remained on Ares's face far longer than was normal before returning to Tom. As if nothing had happened, he smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you both."
He motioned for them to sit in the two hardwood chairs nearby. Ares and Tom obeyed, sitting with restrained postures.
"Mr. Riddell," Dumbledore said, turning back to Tom and resuming his gentle, inquisitive expression, "I come from a school called Hogwarts. We received word that you appear to possess some... unusual abilities?"
Tom immediately slipped into performance mode. He raised his head, wearing an expression perfectly balanced between unease, politeness, and the grievance of being misunderstood. "Sir, I do not understand what you mean. I only... sometimes strange things happen, but I cannot control them." He flawlessly played the part of an orphan confused and frightened by his own power.
Ares watched silently from the side and could not help admiring Tom's acting. If he had not already known Tom's true nature, he might almost have been fooled by the masterful performance.
The blue eyes behind Dumbledore's Half-moon Spectacles were as deep as ancient wells. He quietly listened as Tom described those "accidents"—objects moving, animals obeying him, and so on—without interrupting. He only occasionally asked one or two crucial questions, each one precisely aimed at the controlling desires and cold-hearted nature Tom was trying to conceal.
Ares knew Dumbledore had not been deceived by Tom's disguise at all. He was like an experienced connoisseur examining a meticulously forged counterfeit, having long since seen through to the true material beneath.
Yet throughout the entire exchange, Ares could feel that at least a third of Dumbledore's attention remained faintly but persistently on him. That gaze was not as sharp as the one Dumbledore had directed at Tom. It was more like he was deciphering an ancient book full of mysteries, written in a lost script.
At last, Dumbledore ended his questioning of Tom. He turned to Mrs. Cole, confirmed that Tom would attend Hogwarts, and arranged the subsequent details. Mrs. Cole visibly breathed a sigh of relief.
Then Dumbledore's gaze fell upon Ares again, and beneath his gentle tone lay a force that could not be avoided.
"Then, Mr. Phoenix," he said, leaning forward slightly as his Half-moon Spectacles reflected the faint light from outside, "regarding you... Mrs. Cole mentioned that you seem to have lost some of your memories?"
Without warning, the center of the storm shifted to Ares.
Tom's body tensed instantly. A fierce glint flashed through his black eyes as he stared fixedly at Dumbledore.
Ares took a deep breath, raised his head, and met those blue eyes that seemed able to see through everything. He knew the real test had only just begun.
[Final stage: The Blade of Wisdom, activated! Host, respond carefully! (?????)? ??]
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