In a living room thick with the smell of cat urine and tobacco, two people sat facing each other on the sofa. Morning light gradually slipped into the house through the gaps in the curtains, while the cats curiously pawed at the patches of light that kept moving across the carpet as the breeze stirred the curtains.
The old wizard took a bottle of soda from the box and pointed his wand at the cap. It sprang off the bottle's mouth as though it had come alive, allowing the white-bearded human before him to drink something sweet.
"Perhaps because I did not have time for breakfast, I do not quite understand what kind of class physical education is," he said after taking a sip of soda.
"It is a traditional subject that makes students strong by reasonably tormenting their bodies." Su Ming leaned back against the sofa, flicking ash into the ashtray that had scuttled onto the table. "It has a very long history. They say Gryffindor invented it. Of course, his swordsmanship was also lost along with physical education."
"Sports—I like sports, especially Quidditch." Dumbledore looked delighted and chuckled. "Our modern Quidditch matches actually originated from an invention by two brothers from Gryffindor House several centuries ago. They named the sport after their family name. In the beginning, there were not nearly so many rules; they could even fire spells at each other while riding brooms."
"Indeed. Getting hit by a Dancing Spell while flying at high speed on a broom would certainly be a form of torment." The Mercenary turned his palms over and dismissed his armor. "Though the consequences would obviously not be good for the body."
The old wizard was in high spirits and appeared quite trusting of Deathstroke. Of course, nobody knew what he was