Lucien sat calmly in the chair before the desk, hands resting loosely on his lap, as if he were visiting an old friend rather than the most powerful wizard in Britain.
Around them, the portraits leaned closer, pretending not to listen while very clearly listening.
Fawkes fluttered down onto Lucien's shoulder, chirping softly.
Lucien smiled, took out a few small treats from his pocket, and offered them without hesitation.
Fawkes accepted them happily, flames flickering in contentment.
Dumbledore watched the scene with gentle amusement.
"Congratulations, Lucien," Dumbledore said at last. "The Lionhardt Store has exceeded even my expectations."
Lucien inclined his head politely.
"My adopted father taught me well, Professor. I only followed his lessons."
Dumbledore's eyes softened.
He could see it clearly—
Not pride.
Not greed.
Just gratitude.
Dumbledore nodded once.
"He must have been a remarkable man."
"He was," Lucien replied simply.
A brief silence followed.
Then Dumbledore folded his hands atop the desk.
"There is… something I wished to ask of you."
Lucien blinked once, then smiled faintly.
"Let me guess," he said.
"It has something to do with the third-floor corridor."
Dumbledore froze.
The portraits gasped.
Phineas Nigellus Black nearly fell out of his frame laughing.
Dumbledore recovered quickly—but not fast enough to hide his surprise.
"And how," Dumbledore asked carefully, "did you come to that conclusion?"
Lucien tilted his head, genuinely curious.
"On the first day," he said, "you told everyone not to go there, Principal."
Dumbledore nodded.
"To me," Lucien continued, "it sounded less like a warning… and more like an invitation."
The portraits burst into laughter.
Phineas laughed the loudest, slapping the arm of his chair.
"Merlin help us, he decoded you in one sentence!"
Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, then chuckled.
"And what did you hear in my speech, exactly?" he asked.
Lucien replied calmly,
"If you want treasure and fame—
go find them yourself."
Dumbledore was speechless.
Not offended.
Not angry.
Simply… caught.
Lucien raised a hand slightly.
"No offense intended, Principal."
That only made the portraits laugh harder.
Phineas wiped imaginary tears from his eyes.
"Oh, offense very much taken—by my dignity, not my ears!"
Dumbledore sighed, smiling helplessly.
"Well," he said at last, opening his eyes and meeting Lucien's gaze,
"It seems I underestimated you."
Lucien shrugged lightly.
"I just listen carefully."
Fawkes chirped approvingly.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, studying the boy before him—not as a student, but as an equal mind.
"Very well, Lucien," Dumbledore said quietly.
"Since you already know… I would like your help."
The room grew still.
Even the portraits leaned closer.
Phineas grinned.
"Oh, this," he muttered,
"is going to be entertaining."