In the Headmaster's office, the man sat opposite Dumbledore, chatting as if they had all the time in the world. Both of them looked completely at ease.
The man acted like a junior who had come specifically to pay his respects, speaking to Dumbledore with obvious deference.
And as the "raven" by the Black Lake was scattered by the giant squid's single slap, their conversation gradually drifted toward the giant squid itself.
"He gets bothered every time he's sunbathing, and you still have the nerve to say you've only 'pestered him a few times'?" Dumbledore shook his head.
"It's not my fault," the man said with a helpless laugh. "Every time I walk by the Black Lake, he acts like nothing's happening, drags me into the water, then carries me back to shore. Everyone thinks he's saving me from drowning. People keep wondering why I 'accidentally' fall in so often."
"So really, I'm just giving him a little payback."
"Whatever goes on between you two is something only the two of you understand," Dumbledore said, still shaking his head. Then his tone shifted. He looked straight at the man. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Of course." The man in black robes answered calmly. "It's a trade, isn't it? Both sides get what they want."
"But you also know that…" Dumbledore began.
"About that thing, we know more than you do," the man cut in. "And even though you've been Headmaster for decades, we've been watching and exploring this castle for nearly a century. We know more than you, whether it's the castle itself or the interesting things that happened afterward."
He spoke with unconcealed pride. "I've come to you in person. You should understand what that kind of sincerity means."
"I understand your sincerity," Dumbledore said. "What I don't understand is this. You joined the Raven, and the Raven normally doesn't appear in front of the world."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "Your presence makes me uneasy."
The Raven was a peculiar organization threaded through wizarding history. No one knew where it came from, but one thing was certain: it appeared later than Hogwarts did.
It was so secretive that most people had never even heard of it. Only those who had received an invitation knew it existed at all.
Dumbledore himself had once been invited. He even admired the organization's ideals, but joining the Raven meant staying out of most wizarding affairs, and that ran contrary to Dumbledore's own beliefs.
So he had refused.
"We are the last line of defense for wizarding civilization," the man said. "But we're also excavators of lost history. You understand what I mean."
The organization existed to preserve wizarding heritage and unearth wizarding history, like greedy ravens picking through the ruins of time for treasures buried under rubble.
That was why they also called themselves scavengers.
And what they sought wasn't only history, but powerful magic hidden within it.
When the Raven stepped into the light, it usually meant history was surfacing again. And when it came to lost history… Dumbledore could only think of one thing.
"Ancient magic?" Dumbledore asked bluntly. "You're here because of Leonard William? But Filius Flitwick also has ancient magic, and I've never once seen the Raven approach him."
"Professor Flitwick is an exception," the man replied. "That power isn't truly his. There's nothing to dig up. But that William is different. He's not the same."
"And how is he different?" Dumbledore asked, genuinely curious.
He really did wonder what was special about that somewhat troublesome student. In Dumbledore's eyes, the boy had nerve, asking for a feather right in front of Fawkes.
As for ancient magic, Dumbledore had never seen Leonard William use it. For a child, that restraint was rare.
"The future of this world will change because of him," the man said, uncharacteristically serious. "That is prophecy."
"Prophecy?" Dumbledore's expression shifted slightly, though confusion still lingered.
"As for ancient magic," Dumbledore said slowly, "I've heard certain things… around the year 1890…"
"Back then, we didn't realize how serious it was," the man said with a sigh. "No. More accurately, we never imagined someone would deliberately cut off the inheritance of ancient magic.
"You know the usual pattern: every generation produces one or two inheritors of ancient magic. But after that person, ancient magic nearly vanished. Most of the legacy sites we knew of were destroyed."
He paused, voice heavy. "That person clearly didn't want ancient magic to continue. But we believe something so central to wizarding history shouldn't simply disappear."
"And now," he said, "we finally have a chance to recover it."
Dumbledore fell silent for a long time, then nodded. "Do as you please. As long as you don't harm anyone, I will give you whatever help I can, within my power."
"Thank you, Headmaster." The man stood and inclined his head.
"Wait." Dumbledore stopped him. "About Tom…"
If the Raven's appearance could draw off some of Voldemort's forces, perhaps Harry Potter would be under less pressure.
"Headmaster," the man said evenly, "whether it's Voldemort or you, you're both part of wizarding civilization. We don't care who leads it. We only care that it doesn't die out."
He continued, matter-of-fact. "To be honest, even among us there are disagreements. Quite a few members believe we should support Voldemort. They think his radical approach might push wizarding civilization to a new peak."
"And what do you think?" Dumbledore asked.
He didn't argue about Voldemort's evil or how many people he had murdered. Those weren't things the Raven concerned itself with. What mattered here was the man's position.
"Me?" The man gave a soft laugh. "I think they've got a point."
Dumbledore nodded, as if he'd expected that.
"I should be going," the man said.
He put on a top hat. The raven on his shoulder flapped its wings, black feathers spiraling up around him until they became a pitch-black storm.
"Thank you for your support, Headmaster," the man's voice drifted in and out from within the storm. "Oh, and if you don't mind, I'd like to develop a few probationary members at Hogwarts."
"Fine," Dumbledore said lightly. "As long as they're willing."
"Then I look forward to our next meeting."
As his words fell, the black storm stopped as abruptly as it had formed. The man was gone from the Headmaster's office, leaving only a few black feathers drifting in the air.
Nearby, the Phoenix opened its eyes and gave a disdainful look toward where the man had vanished, then breathed out a burst of flame that burned the feathers to ash.
Dumbledore watched the black feathers disappear into the fire, and remained silent for a long time.