The Blade of Wisdom

The office was so quiet that one could hear the dust settling. Mrs. Cole's gaze darted between Dumbledore and Ares, her confusion plain. Tom stood like a frozen statue, every sense locked onto Dumbledore, as if ready to counter any possible attack at a moment's notice.

Pressure weighed on Ares's shoulders like a physical force. He knew Dumbledore's question was far from simple. It touched on his identity, his origins, and some hidden connection between himself, Tom, and even Dumbledore's own past.

He lifted his head, not avoiding those sharp blue eyes, his heterochromatic gaze carrying just the right blend of bewilderment and the struggle to recall. He couldn't appear too composed—that wouldn't fit the role of a "memory-lost" child—nor too flustered, which would invite deeper suspicion.

"Yes, Professor." Ares's voice had a child's softness but no stammer. "I only remember... my name. Ares Phoenix." He deliberately emphasized the surname, catching the faint, almost imperceptible twitch of Dumbledore's fingertips at the word "Phoenix."

"Phoenix..." Dumbledore repeated softly, as if savoring the meaning behind the word. "An ancient and powerful surname. Do you remember anything about your family? Even a single image, a feeling?"

Ares shook his head, his eyes vacant. "Only... rain. Very cold rain. And... a very bright light, and... the sound of glass breaking." He described the vague memory of his arrival, a symbolic echo of the Blood Pact's shattering. He carefully controlled his tone, making it sound like fragments of a broken dream, not real experience.

Dumbledore's gaze suddenly deepened. The sound of breaking glass? It struck a dangerous chord with a long-buried, sharp memory fragment from his mind—a summer in Godric's Hollow. His eyes once again involuntarily swept over the golden chain mark beneath Ares's left eye. The pattern... he had never seen it before, yet it stirred a strange familiarity and throb from the depths of his bloodline.

"I see." Dumbledore's voice remained gentle, but Ares could feel the undercurrent beneath the warmth. "Then, Ares, have you also experienced... 'unusual' things? Like Tom?" He skillfully steered the conversation to the crux.

Tom's breath caught almost imperceptibly.

Ares knew this was the real test. He couldn't deny it outright—that would seem suspicious—nor could he admit to aggressive abilities, which would brand him as "dangerous" like Tom.

He lowered his eyes slightly, fidgeting with his fingers as if uneasy, and spoke in a hesitant tone: "Sometimes... I have very strange dreams. Dreams... of golden birds flying in fire, and... black, horse-like shadows racing across the sky." He described phoenixes and Thestrals, echoing his wand core and subtly pointing toward Dumbledore and Grindelwald. "And other times..." He looked up, his heterochromatic eyes carrying a hint of genuine confusion (born from his own lack of understanding of his Blood Pact power), "When others are very sad or very angry, I... I seem to feel it a little, and then... I wish in my heart that they could feel better. And then, sometimes, they really do... calm down a bit."

He displayed an ability for "soothing" and "empathy"—a power leaning toward light, healing, and seeming passivity. This explained why he could coexist peacefully with Tom and even exert a positive influence, while distinguishing himself from Tom's ability to control and intimidate.

[Host! (???) Perfect response! Successfully crafted the image of a 'harmless comforter,' showing uniqueness while lowering threat level!]

Dumbledore listened quietly, his gaze behind the half-moon spectacles as deep as the sea. He did not immediately judge. Ares's description, especially the part about dreams and soothing ability, didn't fully match any magical phenomenon he knew, yet it strangely connected to certain traits of his own and Gellert's... The golden bird (phoenix), the black shadow (Thestral?), and this pure, almost instinctive power of comfort...

This child was like a puzzle pieced together from fragments of his and Gellert's lives.

"A very interesting description, Ares." Dumbledore finally spoke, his tone unreadable. "A very... unique talent." He didn't press for details but turned to Mrs. Cole. "Madam, given Ares's special circumstances and his display of certain... potential, Hogwarts might also provide a suitable place for him. Of course, this requires further assessment."

Mrs. Cole, clearly overwhelmed by the chain of events, only nodded instinctively. "Whatever you think best, Professor."

Dumbledore looked back at the two boys sitting side by side, his gaze sweeping between Tom's tense face and Ares's seemingly calm but alert heterochromatic eyes.

"Then, Tom Riddle, Ares Phoenix," he said with a smile, though behind it lay a clarity that saw through everything, "I formally invite you both to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this September."

He reached out and, from somewhere, produced two thick envelopes made of heavy parchment, addresses written in emerald green ink, no stamps, only an ornate crest—a Coat of Arms, with a lion, eagle, badger, and serpent encircling a capital "H."

Tom's eyes were instantly locked onto the letter, a blazing, almost uncontrollable heat flaring within them. It was recognition, the ticket to the world he had longed for!

Ares also took the letter, feeling the fine texture of the parchment and the faint traces of magic left on it. He breathed a sigh of relief inside. The first hurdle was cleared.

Dumbledore stood, the hem of his robes brushing the floor without picking up a speck of dust. "I will come again in August to take you to buy your school supplies," he said, his gaze sweeping over Ares once more before settling on Tom, his tone carrying a faint note of warning. "At Hogwarts, you will learn to properly understand and control your power. I hope you will be prepared."

He walked to the door, but before leaving, he glanced back at Ares, his expression complex and hard to read, as if saying: I see your difference, child. We will meet again.

The office door closed softly, leaving three people with vastly different thoughts.

Mrs. Cole let out a long breath and slumped into her chair.

Tom clutched the acceptance letter tightly, his knuckles white from the strain, his face a mix of ecstasy, ambition, and cold calculation.

And Ares looked down at the letter in his hand—the symbol of a turning point in fate—feeling the faint warmth of the Blood Pact mark beneath his left eye and the cheerful chime of the system in his mind.

[Main Quest Updated! (★ ω ★) Successfully obtained Hogwarts admission qualification!]

[New Phase Unlocked: The Door to the Wizarding World!]

[Next Objective: Diagon Alley Trip!]

The storm had temporarily subsided, but they all knew this was only the beginning. The path to the wizarding world had been laid out, and ahead lay an even more turbulent and perilous future. The first clash of wits had passed; Dumbledore had left questions and opportunities alike. Now, they needed to prepare thoroughly for the upcoming trip to Diagon Alley.