Letter and Test

After Dumbledore left, the stagnant air in the office seemed to melt away at once, only to be swiftly filled with a new, more complicated emotion.

Mrs. Cole let out a long breath, as though she had cast off a tremendous burden, yet also as though she had been swept into a vortex beyond her understanding. She rubbed her brow and looked at the two boys clutching parchment envelopes in their hands, her expression indecipherably complicated. In the end, she merely waved them off, her voice weary. "All right, you two should go back now. Remember what the professor said. Be prepared."

Tom rose almost immediately, gripping the acceptance letter as though it carried the full weight of his life. He neither looked at Mrs. Cole nor waited for Ares. He simply turned and strode out, his steps more hurried and resolute than when he had arrived, vanishing through the door like a black shadow.

Ares, on the other hand, politely nodded to Mrs. Cole and said, "Thank you, Mrs. Cole," before following him out.

Tom was nowhere to be seen in the corridor. Ares knew that he must have returned to one of their secret corners—the rooftop terrace, perhaps, or some deserted moment in the dormitory. He needed space to process this enormous shock, to savor alone this "ticket" to power and an unknown world.

Ares did not go looking for him immediately. Carrying his own letter, he returned to the temporarily empty dormitory. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the grimy windows, casting mottled halos across the paper. He carefully broke the heavy wax seal, and a faint, peculiar scent of parchment and ink wafted out.

The letter's contents were much the same as he had expected: Armando Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—that kind but muddleheaded old headmaster, Ares thought—cordially invited him to enroll. Attached was a long list of required supplies: robes, a pointed hat, protective gloves, a wand made of dragon heartstring or similar materials... as well as a list of first-year textbooks, including The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, Magical Theory, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, and more.

Those familiar titles made Ares's heart beat a little faster. This was not a game, nor a story. It was a world he was about to enter for real.

[Wow! (?ω?) Host, Host! It's an official acceptance letter! We really did it! Hurry and look at the list—we're going to buy a wand! And robes! And...]

The corners of Ares's mouth lifted despite himself. Yet amid his joy, Dumbledore's final deep, probing look fell upon the warmth in his heart like cold raindrops. He knew Dumbledore was far more suspicious of him than of Tom. Tom's danger was exposed and foreseeable, but Ares Phoenix was an utter mystery—one closely tied to Dumbledore's past.

It was not until evening, when the setting sun had dyed the sky orange-red, that Ares found Tom on the rooftop terrace.

Tom stood with his back to him at the edge of the roof, the evening breeze stirring his jet-black hair. He still clutched the letter tightly, but his emotions seemed to have settled, leaving behind only a cold, burning resolve. Hearing Ares's footsteps, he did not turn around.

"He suspects you." Tom's calm statement broke the silence.

Ares walked over and stood beside him, looking down at the London streets below as scattered lights gradually came on. "I know," he replied just as calmly.

"Because of your eye? And that pattern?" Tom turned toward him, his dark eyes flashing sharply in the sunset. "The way he looked at you was different." There had been shock in that gaze, remembrance, even... a trace of pain that was hard to detect. It filled Tom with an inexplicable irritation, as though attention that belonged to him had been divided.

Ares was silent for a moment and did not answer directly. He raised a hand and lightly brushed the Golden Chain Pattern beneath his left eye, feeling its faint warmth. "Perhaps... it has something to do with where I came from. Even I don't fully understand it." That was the truth. He could not explain the blood pact or the system to Tom.

Tom stared at him, seeming to judge whether those words were true. After a moment, he suddenly reached out, moving so quickly that Ares had no time to react. His cool fingertips briefly touched the pattern beneath Ares's left eye.

They both trembled slightly at the same time.

As though burned, Tom swiftly drew back his hand. A flicker of unease crossed his face before being concealed by his usual indifference. He had sensed an extremely faint yet deep and ancient magical resonance, both similar to and utterly different from his own power.

Ares, meanwhile, felt a ripple run through the power of the blood pact at that touch, as though something dormant had been lightly stirred.

"That isn't important." Tom looked away and gazed into the distance again, his tone returning to its usual composure and desire for control. "What matters is that we have the ticket. That world..." Ambition flared again in his eyes. "It will be our starting point."

He no longer dwelled on Dumbledore's attitude or Ares's secret—at least, not on the surface. To him, the result was what mattered most. Now, they stood on the same starting line and had the same opportunity.

"We need to understand that world." Following Tom's line of thought, Ares took out his letter and supply list. "Before we go to that 'Diagon Alley,' we need to know what we're going to face." He handed the list to Tom.

Tom accepted it, his gaze swiftly sweeping over the names of the items before lingering for a long time on the word "wand." "We'll figure it out," he said with unquestionable confidence.

Over the next few days, the atmosphere between them entered a new phase. The anxiety of waiting was replaced by the excitement of having a clear goal and actively preparing for it. They still shared the books they found, but their conversations increasingly revolved around the list and A History of Magic. Tom showed immense interest in wands, repeatedly studying the descriptions of their materials on the list, while Ares paid more attention to the systems of knowledge the textbooks might cover.

They remained the two quiet boys of the orphanage, but in unnoticed corners, their eyes gleamed with shared longing and plans for the new world awaiting them.

Then, one afternoon, Tom somehow acquired an even more tattered miscellaneous book that seemed to contain more folk legends. Pointing at a blurry illustration of wizards walking between shops on a bustling street, he looked up at Ares, his dark eyes gleaming.

"Look here. This might be... Diagon Alley."

The illustration was crude, but its mystery and bustle seemed to surge from the page.

The veil over the first stop on their journey into the magical world was being lifted bit by bit by two boys eager to break free of their restraints.

[New task prompt: (???) Knowledge Reserves! Before heading to Diagon Alley, please have the Host and target character learn as much basic magical knowledge as possible. This will help you adapt and make better choices.]

[Reward: Unlock corresponding knowledge databases and a small amount of gold based on the extent of knowledge acquired.]

Ares looked at the blurry illustration, then at Tom beside him, absorbed in his research. He knew the next stage of their journey was already close at hand. And the questions and scrutiny Dumbledore had left behind would follow them into that magical alleyway.