"I actually didn't want Severus to see your egg." His words carried a hint of lingering fear, a tone he didn't use even when discussing his solo battles against countless wizards.
"Your letter, professor."
Ian stared thoughtfully at the Phoenix Egg in his hand for a moment, then suddenly pulled out two letters from his suit, a completely unexpected reaction that made Dumbledore slightly stunned.
"The letter with the big-headed drawing is for Abeforth, remind him he needs to pay the postage." Ian reminded, after all, he didn't have any relationship with Dumbledore's brother.
"!!!!"
Dumbledore's face had been wearing a gentle smile, but upon seeing the two letters in Ian's hand, his expression and gaze instantly turned incredibly horrified.
As if he'd seen a ghost.
The portraits of the headmasters on the wall also showed expressions of disbelief, covering their mouths, unseen by Ian who was rummaging through his bag, which had been subjected to the Enlargement Charm.
"You really can do this... this..." Dumbledore hurriedly abandoned comforting Fox and hastily rushed to Ian's side.
Moving with a speed not expected of an elderly man.
"Such... such defiant talent..." Dumbledore gave Ian a deep look, lowering his gaze to the two seemingly ordinary letters in Ian's hand.
The graffiti on them.
Made Dumbledore's eyes instantly moist, his entire being seeming somewhat shaky. As he slowly extended his aged hand, he suddenly withdrew it swiftly.
Unusually indecisive.
As if bound by the heaviness in his heart. Gryffindor students are always like this; they do not lack courage but easily lose courage when faced with things they care most about—Ian even felt fear and apprehension growing in the old headmaster's heart after his emotional loss of control.
"Just reminiscing and catching up."
Ian handed the two letters to Dumbledore. Dumbledore's hands trembled more with the letters, as if the thin letters weighed a thousand pounds.
Hastily supporting himself on his desk, he sat back in his chair, carefully gazing at the letters, fingers gently caressing the envelope, as if feeling the family bond that transcended the Death Realm.
"Your talent, do not tell anyone, it is great... and very terrifying." Dumbledore didn't forget to seriously remind Ian at this time.
"Only you and the headmasters know."
Ian looked at the portraits on the wall with his camera.
The previous headmasters' portraits on the wall were all silent, all their eyes were fixed intently on him, every portrait's expression filled with a complexity hard to describe.
The headmaster from Ravenclaw looked at Ian with a hint of terror.
"The headmasters are trustworthy people, they will keep this secret for you... and so will I." The old man's lips parted slightly before closing again, as if working to calm the waves in his heart. He took a deep breath and finally worked up the courage to carefully tear open the envelope.
His movements were extremely gentle, as if afraid of damaging even a small part of the letter inside. As the letter unfolded, the old man's pale complexion grew more ashamed with each line read.
Ian didn't know the contents of the letter, nor did he have the habit of prying into others' letters; he merely lifted the camera in his hand from a distance.
Through the viewfinder of the camera, Ian saw tears in Dumbledore's eyes finally breaking free, slowly streaming down his face, blurring the ink on the letter as they fell.
Frenziedly grabbing a handkerchief to wipe, the old man even forgot he was a wizard, his flustered and bewildered demeanor a sight few ever saw in Dumbledore—Ian ultimately didn't press the shutter, sighing as he lowered the camera.
"As good as new."
Ian retrieved his Magic Wand to restore Dumbledore's letter.
"Thank you, thank you!"
Dumbledore pressed his hands tightly against his face, tears seeping through the gaps between his fingers, emitting a low and suppressed sob. His shoulders trembled slightly, as if at this moment, all his strength and maturity had collapsed, leaving only an aged brother, deeply remorseful and endlessly longing for his sister.
The powerful Dumbledore.
Seemed to have only vulnerability left at this moment.
"Good night, professor."
After a glance back at the seemingly no longer powerful, composed, infinitely confident Dumbledore, Ian gently closed the office door as he left—the realization dawning on Ian at this moment, a messenger perhaps shouldn't seek to record anything, witnessing can only remain in one's memory.
He was but a passerby.
In the empty office.
Like strings plucked by the wind, the intermittent quiet persisted for a long while, and only after the moon was high in the night sky did the old man, after some time of calming down, gingerly put down the letters.
"That little wizard! He did the impossible! How could this happen!" The headmasters on the wall only dared to voice their incredulity at this moment.
"Merlin had such abilities, it's not something that never happened before, just that it wasn't expected to happen again, none of you know the legends of Merlin better than I do." Phineas Nigellus Black retorted from the wall, not missing the chance to mention the rumor that Merlin had once hidden his identity to secretly study at Slytherin.