Chapter 40: Newt Scamander (Part 1)
Once the chocolate was finished, Black and his mentor, another former Headmaster, were still wrestling in their frames while a crowd of elderly witches and wizards looked on. The spacious Headmaster's office had effectively turned into a rowdy retirement home.
"Pay no mind to old Black's ravings, child. He has been quite unhinged ever since he learned the last male heir of the Black family was sent to Azkaban." A kindly voice spoke from nearby.
Warren turned to look. A portrait that had previously been empty now held a red-haired old woman. In the wizarding world, that particular shade of red hair was unmistakable.
Warren bowed. "Hello, Headmistress Weasley. Please forgive me, but I am unsure of the proper way to address you."
She was unmistakably a Weasley ancestor. However, Arthur and Molly had eloped and been disowned. Since they brought no family records with them, Warren and the younger generation knew nothing of Weasley history.
The plump, kind-faced old woman smiled. "Do not worry about that. I have been dead for ages. Whatever Weasley status I had is irrelevant now."
Warren did not argue. If the dead woman herself did not care, he saw no need to press the issue. He changed the subject. "You mentioned the last male of the Black family. Do you mean Sirius Black?"
"Yes. It was ten years ago. I still remember the hysterical screaming when Dumbledore told old Black the news. One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, a pureblood family with a thousand-year history, was about to crumble into dust. You can understand his pain. But ever since then, he has been trying to entice Slytherin students into helping him rescue Sirius from Azkaban."
Headmaster Weasley sighed. "That is going too far. Dumbledore has had to confine him to the office because of it." She gazed at Warren with motherly affection, her tone shifting to a warning. "You are still young. You may find yourself drawn to power, but you must exercise caution and restraint when studying the Dark Arts. There are ignorant Dark Wizards who claim that power is neither good nor evil, insisting that the wizard defines its morality. However, Dark magic requires extreme negative emotions as fuel. If you constantly wallow in such intense feelings, how can you be certain you will not lose your mind?"
Warren nodded. That perfectly mirrored his own perspective. It was exactly why he wondered how Dumbledore and Snape had managed to avoid that problem. He continued chatting with his ancestor for a while, watching the two old men bicker. Growing bored, he began to wander around Dumbledore's office. In a cabinet near the fireplace, he discovered the Pensieve. He vaguely recalled that Dumbledore had stored many of Tom's memories there while investigating why Tom could not die. However, he saw none. Dumbledore had likely hidden them with magic.
Then, in a corner near the door and partially obscured by a shelf, he found a human-height mirror covered in black velvet. Warren did not lift the cloth. He knew exactly what it was. "That is the Mirror of Erised."
The air in the office shimmered as someone Apparated, disturbing the stillness. Fawkes had returned with Dumbledore. He seemed in high spirits, apparently having confirmed something during his outing. He smiled at Warren.
"Legend says it reveals a person's deepest desire. Care to take a look, Mr. Weasley?"
Warren smiled and shook his head. "I read about it in an Alchemy book. It shows desires, but it cannot fulfill them. No matter how long you look, it remains just an illusion."
"But I believe it can help you understand your own heart."
"I know my own heart quite well, Headmaster. Self-awareness should come from within, not from a mirror," Warren replied, somewhat impatiently. He could not resist needling Dumbledore.
"And what do you see in it, sir?"
Dumbledore's gaze flickered, distant for a moment. He could not help but recall the recent days he had spent standing before the mirror, gazing at the reflections of four young people. Their faces were as vivid as they had been more than ninety years ago. Unlike reality, the mirror held no conflicts or tragedy. They laughed, happy and close together.
But the great wizard quickly stifled the sudden surge of emotion and winked at Warren. "I see a nice, warm pair of wool socks. You have to understand, my boy. A man of over a hundred years simply hopes someone will give him a pair of warm wool socks for Christmas."
Warren laughed noncommittally. He had no patience for playing these games with Dumbledore anymore. He asked point-blank, "Did you find anything?"
Dumbledore looked regretful for a moment before nodding. "Yes, Mr. Weasley. You are quite right. A powerful Dark wizard is trying to obtain unicorn blood to brew the Elixir of Life, seeking to sustain his ugly, pathetic, flickering life."
As he spoke, a complex emotion flickered in his blue eyes, but his tone brightened a moment later. "I did not find him, but I was fortunate enough to locate the unicorn herd. None have been killed yet. You found them just in time, Mr. Weasley. I thank you on behalf of the unicorns. You are a good man."
Dumbledore dabbed at his eyes, visibly moved.
"What a performance." The corner of Warren's mouth twitched. He vastly preferred the company of Ron and Harry to this. These old codgers, having spent a lifetime honing their craft, were simply insufferable. It was a pity Tom had not been in the Forest tonight. Watching those two cross paths would have been fascinating.
Warren let out a silent sigh of regret before speaking. "Headmaster, I suggest we move the unicorns elsewhere. The Forbidden Forest is not safe for them any longer. Hogwarts simply does not have the manpower to guard against poachers day and night."
"An excellent suggestion, Mr. Weasley. Oh, may I call you Warren? It feels friendlier."
Warren laughed. "Then should I call you Albus?"
To his surprise, the old man did not mind. He smiled. "Of course. What are names for, if not to be used?"
Before Warren could reply, Dumbledore continued, "I agree that the unicorns cannot stay in the Forest. I have decided to ask an old friend for help. Come along, Warren. He is a good man, and I think you will like him."
Warren did not object. He walked over to Dumbledore and took his arm. Fawkes trilled and landed on the old man's shoulder.
"Have you ever experienced Side-Along Apparition? Just relax. It is only uncomfortable for a moment."
"Very well, Albus. And please, do not struggle. Splinching is quite unpleasant, you know. Should your head happen to get left behind, I cannot promise I would be able to find it, my boy."
"Very well, Albus. I do not think you need to keep saying my name quite so much."
"Very well, Albus."
Pop.
They twisted and vanished, leaving only the bickering portraits behind in the office.
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