Eighth floor, Headmaster's Office. Dumbledore sat there in perfect ease, sipping his tea—three sugars added—while watching Snape and Professor McGonagall argue with genuine interest.
What a coincidence.
Originally, Professor McGonagall just came to see Dumbledore about something, but as soon as she walked in, she heard Snape yelling about expelling a certain student.
"That Kael Chopper again. He's conned at least five hundred Galleons from other students these past few days."
"I said it before—he incites classmates, reckless as hell, zero respect for school rules, should've been expelled ages ago."
...
After listening for a bit, Professor McGonagall pretty much got what was going on. She frowned and said, "Severus, we're not going to expel a student for selling a few things. That's petty."
"Petty?" Snape raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze from Dumbledore to McGonagall.
"Frankly, Minerva, he's already trying to organize cheating during exams."
"Cheating? Are you kidding me?"
Professor McGonagall exclaimed in disbelief, "I've seen those things. They're not even Magic Items. Just the most ordinary accessories."
"So then, Mr. Chopper's selling fake goods?" Snape drawled, "Because plain old accessories aren't worth ten Galleons."
Selling fakes at Hogwarts, scamming other Young Wizards—honestly, that deserves expulsion too!"
"Calm down, Severus."
At this moment, Dumbledore finished his tea, pulled out a huge sheet of Parchment, and placed it on the table.
"Here's their product leaflet. You probably haven't seen it yet." He pointed to the biggest, boldest line at the bottom, "They actually spelled it out pretty clearly, so it's not really fraud."
Snape looked up, and the glaring big letters nearly made his eyes hurt.
[This product is purely symbolic... please purchase at your own discretion]
"Also..." Dumbledore pondered a bit, then said, "From what I know, most students bought accessories for five Sickles. Only a small number—the prettier ones—sold for ten Galleons."
After hearing Dumbledore's explanation, Snape's face suddenly turned sour, like he'd just swallowed a plateful of unwashed pig intestines.
So basically, only Slytherin folks were buying the ten-Galleon ones, huh.
"And what about this part?" Snape glared at the leaflet, "They even mention you—that's got to be misleading, right?"
"Actually... they're speaking the truth."
Dumbledore's old face turned red, "Back during my graduation exams, I really did wear something similar. Though Professor Marchbank confiscated it afterward."
"Merlin's beard, I always thought nobody remembered that incident."
Snape's expression went pitch-black as he snatched up the leaflet and stormed out of the Headmaster's Office.
"Bang!"
The massive slamming sound woke a sleeping Fawkes, who flew onto Dumbledore's shoulder and angrily pecked at his beard.
"Sorry, Fawkes. Severus didn't mean it."
Fawkes ignored him, still tugging at his beard.
No choice—Dumbledore had to pull some Mandrake leaves out of the drawer to finally coax his Phoenix into calming down.
Then he looked up at a still-stunned Professor McGonagall and said, "No need to be that shocked, Minerva—I was only seventeen. Doing stuff that made no sense was perfectly normal."
And it was a Magic History exam. Professor Binns' class... you see what I mean."
McGonagall's mouth twitched, about to laugh... but she held it in.
"Alright..." Dumbledore changed the topic. "Did you come to see me about something?"
With that, McGonagall's expression turned more serious.
"Ahem, here's the entry list you wanted—from June to August last year." She put a small stack of Parchment on the table, "Yesterday the owl couldn't find you, so the Ministry of Magic sent it to me instead."
"Thank you, Minerva. I need it right now."
Dumbledore took the pile, leafed through it for a bit, then grabbed another, almost identical stack of Parchment from the bookshelf behind him.
McGonagall glanced curiously, but from her angle she could only make out the first few words,
"Albania exit..."
Dumbledore then started avidly comparing the two lists, and seeing this, McGonagall quietly slipped out.
With the door closing again, the Headmaster's Office returned to peaceful silence.
On the walls, the portraits—who'd been pretending to sleep—opened their eyes and gathered together, eagerly discussing the drama they'd just witnessed.
"That Kael kid again," said one Witch. "How many times has his name come up in the Headmaster's Office now?"
"At least three times," said a skinny old man. "That Professor of Potions comes for him every time—troublemaker, for sure."
"I don't agree," said the Witch who spoke before, shaking her head. "I've seen that child in the hallways—smart, humble, polite, and he even greets the portraits."
"Maybe he's faking it," sneered a sharp, snarky voice. "Just like that student from back then... so fake."
"Shut up, Phineas," grumbled a Bearded Wizard. "It's different—he's a Hufflepuff!"
"That's true," Phineas Black picked his nose, "He's from that idiot house—guess he doesn't have much scheming in him..."
"You dare—!"
The Bearded Wizard charged into Phineas's frame, grabbed him by the collar: "Say it again! What's wrong with Hufflepuff?!"
Beneath the Bearded Wizard's portrait, the inscription clearly showed he graduated from Hufflepuff.
"What—what are you doing..." Phineas struggled desperately, "Let me go! You planning to beat me up now?"
"Been planning that for ages!"
The Bearded Wizard socked him to the floor, then stomped on his face with wild enthusiasm.
"Idiot house? Ha! Let's show you what Hufflepuff can do today!"
The other portraits rushed over, deftly pulling out snacks, drinks, and little stools, front-row seats for the show.
Watching Phineas get beat up—literally their favorite entertainment.
The Headmaster's Office wouldn't be complete without Phineas, just like the Black Lake's Merpeople need their broomstick.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore—still focused on his Parchment—finally looked up.
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, ignored the portraits, and walked over to the window, gazing outside in a daze.
...