An invisible ripple spread through Dumbledore's office.
From within the rebirth fire where Fawkes was undergoing his nirvana, a peculiar sound, like wood cracking in a bonfire, rang out.
Like a lock being opened by the correct key, something was released from its seal.
At the same time, at the Weasley family home, Arthur Weasley—who had just returned home and learned from the young girl named Hilke that Sherlock was safe—suddenly froze. His mouth hung open as he looked towards Hogwarts, falling into a daze.
"Has this day... finally come..."
In the Auror Office, Kingsley, who was studying the report brought back by the two Aurors who had gone to scout Derbyshire, also paused for a moment. He then smiled and shook his head. He was somewhat surprised, but not overly so, and continued with his work.
In an inconspicuous small town on the outskirts of London, Moody—who had been peacefully retired for two months—was carefully maintaining his wooden prosthetic leg in his yard. The alchemical glass eye in his socket spun rapidly, and a slight smile appeared on his lips as he tapped the adjusted leg against the ground.
"Good lad, I knew it."
Inside the Deputy Headmistress's office at Hogwarts Castle, a tabby cat curled up on the desk and taking a nap suddenly raised its head alertly. She looked towards the Headmaster's Office on the eighth floor, her eyes filled with human-like complexity and relief.
In a cottage at an unknown location, an elderly Wizard with a walrus-like moustache lay lazily in a sofa chair, his large belly protruding. He stared blankly at the glass of golden mead in his hand. After a long while, he finally raised his glass towards the air in front of him and murmured,
"To Sally..."
Not just the five of them, but several Wizards across the world simultaneously set down their work. A shackle sealing the secrets in their hearts had been broken, and everyone knew what this meant.
Inside Hogwarts, Sherlock was completely unaware of the chain reaction triggered by the burning of the contract; nothing around him seemed to change.
Fawkes, having completed his nirvana, was now an ugly, featherless chick. He lay in the nest beneath the golden branch, opening his tiny, tender beak to let out a few chirps.
Having completed the task, Dumbledore sat back in his chair. He interlaced his fingers over his stomach and looked at Sherlock, appearing to be organising his thoughts on how to begin telling the secret that had been hidden for twenty years.
Sherlock did not rush him; he waited quietly. After a long while, Dumbledore finally spoke slowly.
"To be honest, Sherlock, back when you graduated from Hogwarts and came to my office to ask to stay at this Castle as a Professor, I turned you down. At the same time, I had made up my mind to keep this secret hidden for a lifetime, to never let you know, and to let you live out your life in peace. At the time, I believed that was the best arrangement for you, as did everyone else who knew the truth."
He did not tell the secret directly, but instead spoke of Sherlock's past.
Dumbledore's expression was solemn, and his voice was calmer than ever before.
"But then an accident happened. That summer, during the year you came to teach at Hogwarts, when I rejected your job application once again, I saw your disappointment and loneliness. This worried me greatly. I feared that my decision, which I thought was for your own good, would instead lead you down the wrong path. I had made such a mistake once before, and I did not want to—could not—make it a second time, especially not with you."
"Fortunately, that year also gave me a chance to change my mind. After an accident occurred with the previously confirmed Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, I had Minerva send you that letter of appointment."
"Many people tried to stop it at the time. Even Minerva, who delivered the letter, did not understand my decision. Many who knew about it sought me out; they didn't want you involved in any of this, including entering Hogwarts."
"After you became an Auror, they intentionally or unintentionally kept you in a clerical position. No matter how many times you applied, and regardless of how many people were aware of your magical talent, they would never let you put yourself in harm's way—not even if there was the slightest bit of danger."
"They saw very clearly that coming to teach at Hogwarts was, in fact, much more dangerous than being an Auror on the front lines at the Ministry of Magic."
Hearing this, Sherlock finally understood completely why the Original Owner had been stuck in a clerical position at the Auror Office.
It was obvious to everyone that his strength and understanding of magic were no worse than those of any senior Auror. With some professional training and experience, he could have become a pillar of the Auror Office like Moody.
Someone—or rather, many people—were unwilling to let him take risks. No matter how strong or experienced an Auror was, even someone as powerful as Moody had lost a leg and gone blind in one eye.
Dumbledore's gaze was calm as he looked at Sherlock, but his eyes clearly reflected his thoughts on the events of that year.
"But I remained stubborn. I not only made you the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts but also approved your application to join the Order of the Phoenix. Like them, I was afraid—afraid that something would happen to you, afraid of breaking our original promise. But I was even more afraid that because of our self-righteous, one-sided protection, you would completely give up on yourself and fall into a state that no one dared to imagine. That would only lead to even greater despair."
"My thoughts at the time were actually quite simple. Do you remember what I said to you at the start-of-term feast that year? If your performance as a Professor didn't meet my expectations, I would dismiss you the following year."
He smiled and winked at Sherlock.
"In truth, when I said that to you, what I was thinking was to let you be a Professor for a year to get it out of your system, and then dismiss you the next year regardless of what happened."
A helpless smile appeared on Sherlock's face. If Dumbledore hadn't said it, he never would have guessed that behind such a solemn expression at the feast that day, Dumbledore was thinking of something so unscrupulous.
"But you completely exceeded my expectations, Sherlock. Or rather, if those who had previously opposed me hiring you and letting you join the Order of the Phoenix saw your performance, they would be astonished as well."
"Perhaps you truly wanted to be a good Professor from the bottom of your heart. Although your performance when you first started teaching at Hogwarts seemed the same as before, I could certainly see that you had already changed a lot by then."
"And at the end of that year, your performance in protecting Harry and the others in the Gryffindor common room, dealing with Tom, and killing the Basilisk made me feel that hiring you at Hogwarts was one of the best decisions I've ever made."
"So, I went back on my word once again." He spread his hands and laughed. "If you proved that Hogwarts was the right place for you and that being the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was the right position, then why should I dismiss you? Why not stick with a decision that was inherently right?"
"But you have exceeded all my expectations time and time again, Sherlock."
The smile on his face faded, and he became calm once more.
"Even though I agreed to let you stay at Hogwarts, and even though you became more and more excellent, the more that happened, the more I hesitated and agonised over certain things."
"But today might be a good time. Two years ago, I feared I would make a second mistake and decided to bring you into Hogwarts. Now, two years later, there is no longer any need to keep these things from you."
Sherlock's expression became serious; he knew that what came next was the main point.
"Your encounter with Barty Jr. tonight is surprising, but not a major issue in itself. The key lies in the fact that he recognised you—he recognised you as Sally's son," Dumbledore said softly. "If you hadn't let a Death Eater escape tonight, there might still be room for manoeuvre. But since someone has taken information about your identity back, there is no other choice left."
"Now that Tom knows your background, he will undoubtedly put you on the same level as Harry. He will do everything in his power to kill you."
The office fell silent, save for the chick Fawkes chirping discontentedly in the nest, as if their conversation was disturbing its rest.
Dumbledore looked into Sherlock's eyes and spoke slowly.
"The year you were two was the period when Tom's power in the Wizarding World was at its peak. At that time, he even had a force capable of rivaling the Ministry of Magic. It was also in that year that his madness truly began."
"In just one year, the Ministry of Magic lost nearly twenty Aurors. Countless Muggles were slaughtered, non-pureblood wizards were tortured to death, and some Wizards from Muggle families were so terrified that they broke their own wands and refused to acknowledge their identity as Wizards ever again."
"The Order of the Phoenix had only been established for a short time back then, and the number of Wizards in the society was small. But everyone shared a definite consensus: although Dark Wizards were wreaking havoc everywhere, the root of all this chaos was actually just one person—the one whom the entire Wizarding World did not dare to name, Lord Voldemort."
"Kill him, and his followers would amount to nothing. But while almost everyone knew this, no one was able to do it. They almost all pinned their hopes on me, believing that I was the only one who could kill Lord Voldemort."
"However, I knew from the very beginning. An old friend of mine, who had once made a mistake, gave me a prophecy and a warning: the one who can kill him is not me, and it cannot be me."(TN: Gellert, I am guessing?)