Dumbledore's gaze shifted from Gerald's face to the wand he had placed on the desk.
"You seem to have become rather absorbed in Alchemy lately. Madam Pince told me you've read Advanced Alchemy twice already and made a thick stack of notes."
Sure enough, nothing gets past this old man.
Gerald said nothing, merely giving a polite nod.
Dumbledore gave him a thoughtful look, as though tucking away some fleeting memory, and did not pursue the subject.
"We're only having a casual chat today. Just focus on your studies. Hagrid and Professor Sprout have both told me how much you've helped them. Of course, if you ever need my help, you're welcome to come to me."
He paused for a moment, then added with a genial smile.
"Some parts of the Forbidden Forest are indeed dangerous, but with a legitimate reason, a few more visits aren't out of the question."
Gerald keenly picked up on the meaning behind those words.
I know what you're doing, and I don't object, but you need to know your limits.
Just then, however, something occurred to Gerald.
More precisely, someone.
Peter Pettigrew.
Perhaps he could tell Dumbledore that Peter was still alive. With Dumbledore's intelligence, he would surely be able to follow the clues and uncover the truth of what had happened more than a decade ago.
Gerald would also be able to learn whether Peter had anything to do with his father's death.
Should I tell him or not?
Gerald clenched his right hand on his knee, then relaxed it.
If he chose to tell Dumbledore, Peter Pettigrew would have no chance of escape.
With Dumbledore taking action, nothing would go wrong. Whether Peter had been involved in his father's death or not, he would be sent to Azkaban, Sirius Black would be released, and Harry Potter would probably gain a godfather ahead of time.
But telling him would also bring new problems.
Dumbledore would inevitably ask where the information had come from. How could a first-year who had only just enrolled know Peter Pettigrew's Animagus form?
Perhaps Gerald could attribute everything to a gift for prophecy, or even to the name on the Marauder's Map.
The problem was that it was still too early.
He had only been at school for a little over two months. Under normal circumstances, he should still have had only a limited knowledge of Hogwarts and the wizarding world.
Dropping such an enormous bombshell now would certainly defy common sense.
The chain reaction that followed would also be beyond his control.
After all, knowing the original plot was one of his advantages. He was unsure how much Peter's imprisonment would affect it.
Wait a little longer.
He told himself that silently.
Until he found a more suitable opportunity.
Speaking up then would have an entirely different effect.
Today's conversation had also made Gerald realize something.
Dumbledore was not his enemy.
This century-old man, who had made mistakes of his own, probably did not want to see him lose himself in his pursuit of power.
That was enough.
With that thought, Gerald stood and gave Dumbledore a solemn bow.
"I understand, Professor Dumbledore."
Rather than continuing to address him as Headmaster, he had switched to Professor.
"Good. I do prefer being called Professor."
By the time Gerald left the Headmaster's Office, night had fully fallen.
Professor McGonagall was still standing outside. When she saw Gerald emerge, she gave a slight nod.
Gerald smiled at her, then headed down the stone stairs.
McGonagall watched his retreating figure disappear beyond the stairs, then turned and knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office.
"Come in, Minerva."
Dumbledore looked at Minerva as she entered, his expression composed.
"This boy is even more remarkable than I imagined. Diligent, levelheaded, exceptionally gifted-far more outstanding than Cedric, whom I originally had high hopes for."
McGonagall fell silent for a few seconds, then raised her head and looked straight into Dumbledore's eyes.
"Albus, is it really right for us to treat a child this way?"
Dumbledore set down his teacup and turned toward the window.
"I know what you mean, Minerva. But we have no choice. We cannot stake everything on Harry. As you know, it wasn't his own ability that allowed him to survive that night."
"But-" McGonagall began.
"There are no buts, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore interrupted her. "Voldemort did lose his body, but all the signs indicate that he hasn't truly died."
He removed his glasses and rubbed his temples.
Without the lenses in front of them, his blue eyes looked a little weary.
"The prophecy may be right. Harry may be the only one who can destroy Voldemort completely, but I still need to make other preparations."
McGonagall watched him quietly for a long while, then sighed softly.
"Speaking of the Potter family's boy, I simply don't understand why you insist on leaving him in their care. I went to see him a few days ago. He's nothing but skin and bones. Those Muggles make him live in the cupboard under the stairs and treat him like a house-elf."
"Because they are Harry's only blood relatives. As long as he lives there, that home will provide him with the strongest protection possible. I admit it isn't a warm home. Aberforth has called me cold-blooded more than once. But until Voldemort is completely destroyed, it is at least safe."
McGonagall said nothing.
Silence lingered between them for quite some time, until Fawkes gave a clear, ringing cry.
"Now, Minerva. This is no longer just about one child, and what we're doing now may not be a bad thing. Perhaps one day, we will discover that the seeds we planted today have all grown into the very tree we need most."
"Ah, I suppose that's all we can do."
Meanwhile, Gerald was heading toward the Room of Requirement.
Over the past several days, Gerald and the others had tested it repeatedly. Aside from food, living creatures, and finished magical items, which it could not produce out of thin air, the Room of Requirement could create almost anything.
He suspected these were items already stored within the Room of Requirement, their forms maintained through Transfiguration and stabilization spells.
In other words, the Room of Requirement was not all-powerful.
It could provide what it already possessed, transforming and stabilizing existing items to meet its users' needs rather than creating things from nothing.
For example, if he needed a heat-resistant alchemy furnace, the Room of Requirement would take an item from
within that was already made of heat-resistant material, use it as a base, and subject it to precise Transfiguration and structural reinforcement, ultimately producing what he wanted.
Before long, Gerald reached the blank stone wall and walked back and forth before it three times.
The moment the wooden door appeared, Gerald pushed it open and entered.
The room was small, roughly ten paces square, with a waist-high stone platform in the center.
Its surface was smooth and level, just large enough for one person to sit cross-legged.
A bronze alchemy furnace stood against the wall.
Gerald stood in the doorway for a few seconds and took a deep breath.
Although the concentration of spiritual qi here was lower than in Hogwarts Castle outside the Room of Requirement, the room had the advantage of shutting out all outside disturbances.
He could make his breakthrough here in peace, without worrying about anyone noticing.
He walked over to the stone platform, sat cross-legged, and took the small glass bottle of Seven-Star Dew from his inner pocket.
Refining essence into qi.
The first true watershed in practicing the Divine Firmament Five-Elements Heavenly Thunder Art, and the most crucial step in the entire system of cultivation.
If he crossed that threshold, he would no longer have a mortal body and could begin to wield supernatural arts.
If he failed, the consequences could range from damaged meridians and a regression in cultivation to spiritual power running out of control and every meridian being severed.
He unscrewed the cap and, without the slightest hesitation, drained the bottle.
"Five elements, gather the primal essence! Open!"
Before you continue