A Visitor in the Rain

Visitors in the Rain

(A bit more daily life. Those looking for fights might find a bit too little. Also, for those complaining of frustration: if you could just read two more lines, you wouldn't say that. Most importantly, this is fanfiction, not the original work; don't evaluate it using the original power scaling. Do you really have to read a Dragon King-style overpowered genius story to be satisfied? And then suffer the same cliché rushed ending? I have my own power system—it's not abrupt, and it won't have a rushed ending.)

Morning in London rarely brought rain this heavy.

Gloucestershire.

The Fawley family's manor sat on the gentle slopes of the Cotswold Hills, far from the hustle and bustle of the city, embraced by an entire forest of oak trees. The manor was three hundred years old, its honey-colored limestone exterior covered in creeping ivy that shone bright green under the washing of the rain. The manor's iron gate was cast with the Fawley family crest—a spread-winged raven and an oak tree, the Latin motto beneath it worn somewhat blurry by the passage of time.

And an elderly man with white hair, holding an umbrella, stood right at the front gate of Foley Manor and rang the bell.

There was a small dining room in the east wing of the manor. Su Yu was sitting in one of the chairs, with a bowl of spicy soup and two steamers of pan-fried buns placed before him.

"You are doing this on purpose to make me angry!"

Kurama's angry voice rang in Su Yu's mind, deep and husky. The Nine-Tailed Fox sealed within his soul space was currently lying atop a ball of golden chakra, her nine tails restlessly slapping the ground, each strike stirring up a ripple of spiritual energy. Her eyes were amber, the slit pupils glowing faintly in the darkness, staring fixedly at Su Yu—or to be precise, staring at the pan-fried bun clamped between Su Yu's chopsticks.

"I'm not doing it on purpose." Su Yu took a bite of the pan-fried bun; the crust was fried golden and crispy, making a delightfully shattering sound. He deliberately chewed very slowly, as if savoring some rare delicacy. "I'm just eating breakfast. What you want to eat has nothing to what I'm eating."

"How does it have nothing to do with it?" Kurama's tails slapped harder, whipping up a small spiritual energy storm within the soul space. "When you eat, the sense of taste is shared! When you eat that... that thing, I can taste it too!"

"Oh?" Su Yu took another bite, this time purposely facing the cross-section toward his own chest—though the gesture was meaningless since Kurama didn't perceive the outside world through vision, Su Yu felt it was quite amusing. "Then you should thank me instead. You get to taste delicious food without having to bear the trouble of chewing and swallowing. What a great deal."

Kurama let out a low growl, the sound buzzing inside Su Yu's skull. "I want cheesecake. I said it all morning—cheesecake. That soft, dense kind with a caramel hue—"

"Only cheesecake would feel wonderful!"

"It would feel like swallowing a brick." Su Yu picked up the spicy soup and took a sip, the pungent broth sliding down his throat and generating a warm sensation in his stomach. "Besides, Carson isn't going to make you cheesecake at seven in the morning. That man is as stubborn as a rock when it comes to etiquette and rules."

Kurama fell silent for about three seconds.

"You could have told him last night to make it this morning."

"Why would I tell him?"

"Because I told you! I said it last night!"

"Did you say it last night?" Su Yu tilted his head, wearing a thoughtful expression. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember—" Kurama's voice spiked abruptly, all nine tails bursting outward at once, and the entire soul space quivered. "You did it on purpose! You do it on purpose every time! You clearly heard me! You clearly heard every single word I said!"

Su Yu didn't answer. He picked up another pan-fried bun, dipped it in a little spicy soup, and then—very, very slowly—conveyed it into his mouth. The moment he bit down, he even let out a sigh of satisfaction.

Kurama rolled over in the soul space, burying her face in her tails, and let out a string of muffled curses. That appearance was remarkably like an impotent husband sulking in the living room, furious to the extreme yet completely helpless against the other party.

"You know," Su Yu said while chewing, his tone casual, "the recipe for this pan-fried bun is a secret formula I had Father fetch from Eastern University. Carson researched it for three months before he managed to make something close to the flavor."

Kurama exposed one eye from her tails.

"Your father." A trace of disdain laced her tone. "That man who dumped you here and ran off with your mother to travel the world?"

"It's him. He and Mother should be in Egypt right now. The last letter said they were in Luxor; he was researching some ancient Egyptian cultivation method while Mother sketched on the side. Sounds quite romantic."

"Romantic." Kurama sneered. "Leaving you alone in this big house with a bunch of butlers and servants is called romantic?"

"I have you."

Kurama froze. Her tails stopped swaying.

"...Cut the crap." Kurama turned her head away, her voice suddenly turning somewhat awkward. "You think saying things like that will make me forgive you? Let me tell you, Su Yu, I—I will never help you again!"

"You said that last time too."

"This time is real!"

"You said that the time before last too."

"Su Yu!"

"Alright, alright," Su Yu bit off the last pan-fried bun and said indistinctly, "I'll make you cheesecake tomorrow morning, okay?"

Kurama fell silent for a moment.

"...Needs to have caramel."

"Fine, with caramel."

"And put strawberries on the side."

"Put them."

"Two."

"Fine, two."

Kurama fell silent for another moment, then let out a satisfied sigh and reburied her face in her tails. The spiritual energy storm in the soul space gradually subsided, and the golden chakra turned soft again, resembling a sea surface warmed by the sun.

Su Yu smiled inwardly, but didn't show it. He knew Kurama's temper—this fox demon who had lived for thousands of years, seemingly hot-tempered and irritable, was actually easier to coax than anyone. As long as you gave her a step down, she would immediately climb right down it. In this respect, she was startlingly like someone he once knew.

No, to be exact, she was startlingly like someone he once read about in a book.

Su Yu wiped his mouth with the tablecloth.

This action was habitual—or rather, deliberate. There was clearly a neatly folded linen napkin placed beside the dining table, with his initials engraved on the silver napkin ring, but he was simply too lazy to reach out for it. How convenient the tablecloth was, right there at hand, one casual swipe and done.

"Pardon me, Master, for disturbing your meal."

Butler Carson's voice sounded at the dining room entrance, unhurried and steady, like a precision clock reporting the time. He wore a black tailcoat ironed without a trace of a wrinkle, his silver-gray hair combed back meticulously, his expression forever bearing that just-so-right respect. He had served the Fawley family for sixty-three years, acting as the head butler of this manor ever since the generation of Su Yu's maternal grandfather. After Su Yu's mother followed love far away to the Eastern Continent, it was Carson who single-handedly propped up this manor, and Carson who raised Su Yu.

If one had to say Su Yu still had any family in this world, Carson was probably the closest person to that definition.

"There is an... ahem... old scholar? Professor? Teacher outside?"

Su Yu raised his head and looked at Carson.

"Forgive me, Master, but I cannot quite describe him." Carson's brow furrowed slightly, one of his few facial changes. "Yet he says his name is Albus Dumbledore, from Hogwarts Academy, here for a home visit." He paused. "So, shall I invite him in?"

Su Yu put down his chopsticks.

Kurama let out a cold hoot within the soul space: "Who? Who is here?"

"Shut up," Su Yu said mentally.

"What did you say? You told me—"

"I said shut up." Su Yu stood up, his chair making a soft sound against the floor. "Not you, I was talking to Kurama."

Carson nodded slightly in understanding. He long ago grew unfazed by Su Yu's occasional habit of talking to himself—after all, ever since the young master seemingly awakened something when he was six years old, he would occasionally speak to thin air. Carson never pursued the matter. In his view, a qualified butler ought to know what should be asked and what should not.

Kurama hummed again, her voice much lower than before: "I'm telling you, I absolutely will not help you. Whatever that person is here for, handle it yourself."

Su Yu ignored her.

"Invite him to the study," Su Yu said, his voice retaining that lazy tone. "I'll head over too."

Carson bowed slightly. "Very well, Master." He straightened up, his gaze falling upon the stray tablecloth fiber lingering at the corner of Su Yu's mouth, and remained silent for a second. "Yet Master, although I have said it many times, I must ask you not to use the tablecloth to wipe your mouth next time. It is terribly unhygienic."

Su Yu waved a hand, already walking toward the exit of the dining room. "Got it, Carson. I'll remember, Carson."

Carson stood in place, watching Su Yu's back vanish around the corner of the corridor, and helplessly shook his head. The young master was good at everything—smart, perceptive, lazy, unmotivated—except that sometimes he truly lacked manners. No, that wasn't right. It wasn't that he didn't understand manners; he simply never bothered to observe them. In that respect, he was cut from the exact same cloth as that mother of his who had cast everything aside for love.

Carson sighed and turned toward the front door.

The rain was still falling. As he crossed the foyer, he glanced out the window at the weather outside. Dumbledore stood right outside the iron gates of the manor, wearing a deep purple robe, a portion of his silver beard dampened by the rain, though he seemed entirely unmindful. He was tilting his head upward, studying the Fawley family crest upon the gate, a few raindrops clinging to his half-moon spectacle lenses and twinkling faintly in the gloomy daylight.

"Please come in, sir." Carson pushed open the iron gate and slightly bowed. "The young master is waiting for you in the study."

Dumbledore lowered his head and offered him a benevolent smile. "Thank you, Mr. Carson. The rainy scenery of Foley Manor is even more captivating than Hogwarts."

Carson replied without changing expression, "You flatter me, sir. This way, please."

The study was situated on the second floor of the manor's main building. A heavy oak desk stood in the center of the room, with several open books spread across it. Opposite the desk stood two dark green armchairs, separated by a small tea table. The fire in the fireplace burned brightly, baking the entire room until it was cozy and warm, the logs occasionally emitting crackling sounds like they were whispering soft secrets.

Su Yu was sprawled in one of the armchairs.

His posture—if that could be called a "posture"—was a state halfway between "lying down" and "sliding off." His spine formed roughly a forty-five-degree angle with the back of the chair, his legs stretched out and resting upon a footstool, his head tilted to one side, making the whole person look like a sack of flour someone had casually tossed up there.

Having just finished eating, he truly didn't want to move.

When Carson pushed the door open and entered, his expression showed no change whatsoever. He was already used to it. He led Dumbledore into the study and said in that even-handed tone, "Master, Mr. Albus Dumbledore has arrived."

Dumbledore stood at the doorway, his gaze shifting from Su Yu's posture to his face, his expression subtle.

Carson poured a cup of black tea for each of them, bowed slightly, and withdrew from the room.

Su Yu didn't get up. He didn't even adjust his posture. He merely raised one hand and lazily waved it in Dumbledore's direction.

"Hi, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir," Su Yu dragged out the end of his voice, carrying a wondrous tone hovering somewhere between teasing and earnestness, "your appearance is like the moonlight by the Seine, rippling in layers of faint light across the currents of knowledge; yet it is also like a sheepskin scroll from the Oxford Library, every page flowing with the ink-scent of wisdom."

Dumbledore froze.

Then he laughed. It wasn't the sort of polite smile, but a genuine amusement. His blue eyes twinkled with delight behind his half-moon spectacles, his silver beard trembling slightly with his laughter.

"Well now, Mr. Su Foley," he sat down in the opposite armchair, placing his wand casually on the tea table, "I am deeply honored that you would say so." He paused, his gaze moving from Su Yu's face to the firelight of the fireplace, and back again. "However, I have come today regarding your impending enrollment at Hogwarts."

Su Yu didn't move. He didn't even open his eyes.

"Very well then," Dumbledore's voice remained amiable, but carried an added touch of formality. "Let me ask you, Mr. Su Foley, before enrollment, have you prepared all the things you should bring?"

"Oh," Su Yu lazily spat out a syllable, "for that kind of troublesome stuff, you'd be better off asking Butler Carson than me. All my things are packed by him."

Dumbledore fell silent for about two seconds.

This young man possessed a unique ability—an ability that made all conscientious people instinctively want to sigh.

Yet Dumbledore was Dumbledore after all. Having served as headmaster at Hogwarts for over thirty years, what kind of students hadn't he seen? He cleared his throat and switched to a different angle.

"Mr. Su Foley," his voice remained patient and gentle, "as a member of the Twenty-Eight Sacred Families, you surely know many things. Do you need to go to Diagon Alley to purchase a wand or perhaps an owl? I should be quite happy to take you."

This time, Su Yu moved.

He slowly shifted in his chair, his right hand reaching behind him—to be precise, reaching into the gap between the armchair's cushion and backrest. His fingers groped around inside for two seconds, and then he pulled out a wand.

Its color was a deep red, yet against that red base, a faint blue light shimmered. The two colors intertwined, flowed, and circulated continuously along the wand body, as if never-ending.

"Professor," Su Yu held up that wand and waved it slightly toward Dumbledore, "I already have a wand. Fourteen and a third inches, Everlasting Wood, Qilin Horn." He spun the wand in his fingers. "Symbolizing immortality and cycle."

"As for an owl," Su Yu casually shoved the wand back beneath the chair cushion and continued, "you know, Professor Dumbledore, that sort of thing isn't popular over at Eastern University. My father found me an Azure Phoenix, and she's right out in the back courtyard. Though right now I'm just waiting for her to take human form."

Dumbledore's eyebrows hitched upward.

Then they stayed right there.

What on earth was all this? How did it suddenly drag human form into the mix? Was this still magic? And what in the world was that Everlasting Wood? Where on earth did that Qilin Horn come from?

He took a deep breath, suppressing a succession of rising questions.

Yet more important than these questions was another matter.

From the very moment he stepped into this study, Dumbledore's magical perception had been continuously sending him signals—deep within Su Yu's soul, suppressed by some seal he had never seen before, a massive, majestic entity brimming with primal power was quietly lying dormant.

At first, Dumbledore almost thought it was an Obscurus, but after sensing it carefully, he felt it wasn't. An Obscurus was chaotic, painful, and filled with destructive desire, whereas this mass of power... it was angry, truly, it had a will, and even—an angry sanity.

He knew he shouldn't do this. As the headmaster of Hogwarts, he also had to be responsible for every student at Hogwarts and for the future of the wizarding world.

He needed to know what that thing inside Su Yu was.

Dumbledore's gaze focused slightly. His wand did not move, but his consciousness had already quietly extended outward, like a thin silk thread, probing into Su Yu's mind.

Legilimency.

This was one of the magics Dumbledore excelled at the most. His Legilimency was so refined that it could silently read the surface memories of another person. He did not intend to delve into Su Yu's privacy; he simply wanted to take a look at the origin of that thing and judge whether it was dangerous.

And then...

Then he felt himself sink.

This feeling was very strange. Dumbledore genuinely felt a sinking sensation, as if the ground beneath his feet suddenly vanished, and he plummeted into a boundless body of water.

The water was very shallow. It barely covered his ankles.

Dumbledore looked down—he saw himself standing in a gray-white shallow water, the surface as calm as a mirror. He raised his head and looked forward.

Ahead was a gate.

A huge, vertical-barred gate, with the vertical railings on both sides extending outwards to the left and right, stretching endlessly. The railings were black ironwork, cast with patterns he couldn't understand—not Western magical runes, but rather resembling some kind of ancient Eastern Continent spell seal. The gate was tightly closed, and a dark red light leaked from the gap, as if something was burning inside.

Su Yu was standing right in front of that gate.

No longer a lazy teenager. There was a sharpness in his posture that Dumbledore had never seen in reality. His hands were tucked in his pockets, but this was no longer a sign of casualness; instead, it was a readied, brooding silence, like a blade sheathed in its scabbard.

Then Su Yu raised his head.

His eyes were red. His pupils were spinning crazily within their sockets, and his lips parted slightly, exhaling a puff of white vapor—in this gray-white world, that puff of white vapor was as clear as reality.

Dumbledore felt a chill. Not from the outside, but from the depths of his intuition. He had lived for over a hundred years, having witnessed the pressure of the Dark Lord Grindelwald at his peak, and the darkness during Voldemort's rise, but at this moment, what he felt from behind this gate was different from all of those. It was older, more primitive, and—purer. Pure anger, pure intent to kill, pure power, without any adornment, nor deigning to have any disguise.

A fox appeared inside the gate.

A red fox that blotted out the sky.

Her size—no, behind that gate, size had lost all meaning. She was too large, so large that Dumbledore couldn't tell where her outline actually extended. Her fur was a flame-like red, and every single hair radiated a scorching light, illuminating the dark red space behind the gate brilliantly. Behind her, nine tails were swinging wildly, each swing kicking off a turbulent storm of spiritual energy, causing this world of consciousness to tremble slightly.

She bared her teeth, her golden slit pupils staring fixedly at Dumbledore, a deep roar rumbling from her throat.

Dumbledore felt himself retreating. No, it was his consciousness defensively putting distance between itself and that thing. His brain was screaming, telling him that this wasn't a realm he should tread, telling him that the very existence of the creature before him had already surpassed his understanding of magic.

"Professor Dumbledore."

Su Yu's voice sounded. The tone remained that lazy, nonchalant tune.

"Using Legilimency without someone's consent," Su Yu tilted his head, the crazily spinning pupils in his red eyes suddenly stopping, locking straight onto Dumbledore's gaze, "is a very bad habit."

He smiled.

There was a youthful bravado in that smile.

"As it happens, Nine-Tailed Fox, she is quite angry. Right, Nine-Tailed Fox?"

Nine-Tailed Fox could no longer hold back.

The gap in the gate suddenly widened, and that sky-obscuring red fox opened her giant maw—the degree to which that mouth opened surpassed the limits of physics, as if the entire world was encompassed by her upper and lower jaws. Dumbledore saw her teeth, every single one like a burning sharp sword, every single one entwined with golden chakra flames.

Then, she swallowed Dumbledore in one gulp.

Darkness.

Scorching heat.

And then—

In the study, Dumbledore snapped his eyes open.

His back was already drenched, cold sweat sliding all the way down the curve of his spine, soaking a patch of dark water marks into his deep purple robes. His hands gripped the sides of the armchair tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling violently, like a man just dragged up from deep water.

The fire in the fireplace was still burning quietly. The black tea on the coffee table was still emitting a slight trace of heat. The rain outside the window was still falling, raindrops tapping against the glass, producing a faint, rhythmic sound.

Everything was normal.

Except for Dumbledore's heartbeat at this moment.

Su Yu still wore that lazy expression.

He remained sprawled in the armchair.

He looked at Dumbledore's appearance and smiled softly.

"Her name is Nine-Tailed Fox," Su Yu said, "and she is my pet. She said that for my sake this time, she'll let you off, but next time, you won't be so lucky." He paused, then added, "You can rest easy, though; Nine-Tailed Fox doesn't usually eat people. I'll keep an eye on her."

Dumbledore took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He closed his eyes, letting his heartbeat gradually calm down. When he opened his eyes again, those blue eyes had regained their usual calmness and wisdom, but beneath this calm surface, something had quietly changed.

"Child," Dumbledore's voice was somewhat hoarse; he cleared his throat, returning to that gentle, reassuring tone, "I hope you keep your word."

He stood up and straightened the creases of his robes. His knees were still somewhat weak, but he wouldn't let anyone see it.

"Since your things are all ready," he looked down at Su Yu, the firelight reflecting off his half-moon spectacle lenses, "then I won't disturb you further. Remember the start-of-term date on the first of next month."

He turned around and walked toward the study door. When he reached the doorway, he paused and turned his head sideways.

"I welcome your arrival at Hogwarts."

The door closed.

Nine-Tailed Fox remained silent in the soul space for a long time, and finally spoke up: "That old man has quite a bit of nerve."

"Yeah," Su Yu said lazily, "quite a bit of nerve."

"But he isn't a bad person."

"Mm."

Nine-Tailed Fox fell silent for another moment.

"...That cheesecake you mentioned just now, were you serious?"

He pillow-propped the back of his head with both hands and closed his eyes.

"Carson!" he shouted toward the door.

The door opened almost immediately. Carson stood in the doorway, holding a fresh cup of red tea in his hand.

"Young master."

"Tomorrow morning, cheesecake. Caramel-colored, with two strawberries placed on the side."

Carson bowed slightly: "Very well, young master."