Though the bloodstains on his face had been wiped away, the faint scent of blood could not fully dissipate from the office.
The clawed legs of the headmaster's desk tapped uneasily against the floor twice. The teapot on the desk sucked in a sharp breath through its spout, letting out a muffled shriek as it forcibly held back the white steam at its mouth.
On a nearby shelf, a glimmer flashed across the Gryffindor Sword inside its glass case. Farther away, the Sorting Hat atop the bookcase secretly opened one of its wrinkles.
Screech!
A Crimson Phoenix flew into the room through the window. As she folded her wings, the gust she stirred conveniently shut the half-open window. Then she leisurely settled onto the high perch hanging from the ceiling and began preening the feathers on her back with her slender beak.
"—You must be Fawkes. Hello, it is an honor to meet you."
The young man named Reinhardt had already wiped the blood from his face clean. His smile was as brilliant as his hair. One hand over his chest, he gave the phoenix a courteous bow.
The Crimson Phoenix tilted her head and inspected the young man in the office with wise eyes. In the end, only after catching the headmaster's prompting gaze did she nod very reluctantly in return.
"—She is also pleased to meet you."
After translating the phoenix's "nod," Dumbledore continued studying the young man before him and repeated his name. "Reinhardt... Reinhardt? Hmm, I have always thought myself quite young. I even remember having hummus for breakfast a month ago, yet I truly have no impression of your name..."
"If you did remember me, I would be the one afraid." Reinhardt did not seem angered by the old wizard's unfamiliarity with his name. "—In