"...Actually, there's a bit of my clever touch in here; it can also customize itself based on your thoughts and change the shape of the armor."
Professor Flitwick continued his introduction with excitement, constantly encouraging William to give it a try—even though it always feels a bit deceptive, in the end, William follows his thoughts, and a dazzling golden light begins to gather around his body—"Emperor Armor!!"
"No backing down, complete fusion armor..."
"Where's that voice coming from?"
The petite professor instinctively looked around, but his attention was quickly captured by the armor forming around William.
"Can't wear it anymore, we have to pay license fees soon—"
The golden light gathering into armor melts away, and William flicks the golden badge in his hand that is just slightly larger than a Galleon, nodding. "This thing is quite nice; the professor is indeed..." Before he could finish his customary compliments, a gleam of silver suddenly flashed in the air, and a jet-black "gecko" with wings appeared, biting the badge directly.
Then, it tilted its head back and opened its mouth wide—swallowing the badge whole.
"...What the hell?"
William instinctively grabbed the "lizard" by the neck. Norbert, caught by the neck, flashed silver again, disappearing directly into the air, and then reappearing above Flitwick's head, on William's shoulder, above the classroom...
After half a minute passed, it finally wobbled back into William's hand, belching with satisfaction, and red-to-purple Dragon Flame puffed out from its nostrils.
"..."
"It..."
Flitwick stared dumbfounded at the mini fire dragon in William's hand, silent for a moment before pointing at the now-empty wooden box on the lectern beside them.
"It ate all three badges—I can see that, Filius, clearly."
William sighed—this fire dragon has indeed had increasingly bizarre tastes recently, like strawberry jam, vinegar Laoganma sandwich, apple pie dipped in soy sauce... Refuses to eat anything normal, but the thing it just ate... Wouldn't that be a bit too much for digestion?
Oddly, William rubs Norbert's belly, which feels solid as a crocodile leather wallet, just a bit deflated—
"Probably... already digested?"
William's expression turned stranger, looking at the somewhat confused Flitwick with an apologetic tone, "The 'lizard' is my pet, and it recently became an adult, probably needing energy to supplement missing parts of its body... So..."
"Oh, it's okay, after all, without the tools you gave me, William, I couldn't have researched these badges—"
Flitwick shook his head repeatedly, though he felt regretful, "The latter two types of badges I can make more of, just a pity about that 'Source Stone'..." His gaze landed on William's sleeve, where Norbert had apparently realized its blunder and buried its head in William's clothes like an ostrich.
"I'm afraid it might have some... um, indigestion? After all, a fire dragon's diet probably excludes... stones?"
...
Of course, a fire dragon's diet doesn't include stones, but after inspection by an expert—not Newt, but Dumbledore, as he discovered the twelve uses of fire dragon blood.
"It's fine, very energetic—"
Dumbledore withdrew his finger from Norbert's mouth, examining the circle of teeth marks around his knuckles. With a smile, he said, "Good bite." He then opened a nearby drawer, pulling out a piece of pineapple jam, unwrapping it, and extending it to Norbert's mouth—but as previously mentioned, Norbert recently has no interest in such normal food—
On the contrary, it seemed interested in the brown "dirt pile" that was crawling around in the drawer.
"Seems like Professor McGonagall has really taken little interest in controlling you lately?"
Watching Dumbledore unabashedly transport the cockroach pile from the drawer to the table, and starting to pinch "German cockroaches" into his mouth with Norbert, William declined the lively "German roach" offered to him, somewhat curious.
Now, the Headmaster's Office only had the two of them and a lizard; Professor Flitwick wasn't around as he had to teach third-year little wizards...
Oh, not quite, there was also a hat.
"Minerva... I don't know what's going on with her, but... that's definitely not a good condition."
Dumbledore sighed, losing interest in catching cockroaches. Having given the remaining candies to Norbert, he tidied the chaotic table, saying, "But... for some reason, I feel like you might know some... inside information?"
"Oh, Dumbledore? Is your true self actually the pinworm in my belly?"
"That's a disgusting description."
Dumbledore paused, his worry subsiding slightly. "So, what major move are you up to again?" He fished a photo from within his robe, a photograph showing Lucius Malfoy, looking fierce, bound in chains, sitting in the Wizengamot Court judgment seat, his dark expression seemingly devouring people.
"From my impressions, Mr. Malfoy's loyalty to Tom isn't of this... uh, admirable degree?"
Dumbledore's expression remained calm, even smiling, yet with some profoundness. "Moreover, according to some 'inside scoop,' those former Death Eaters—now they all obediently started working, and their companies all happen to be together—"
"Ah? Then the person who helped them find jobs must be a great philanthropist, restraining so many vicious criminals..."
With a neutral expression, William began self-praising, continuing regardless of the changes in Dumbledore's expression. "This kind of person is sure to become a leader in the Wizarding World in the future, driving this era's progress—"
"So, is this your ambition, William?"
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore knowingly nodded, as if the reason for saying so much earlier was to extract this response.
"Humans must learn to progress, mustn't they?"
William shrugged, ambiguously saying, "Such times require a leader. You are already a hundred and ten..." "Four, one hundred and fourteen." "Yes, at this age... if you were a Muggle, you'd probably almost feature on a science program..."
As the two of them continued their banter, Norbert, who had just finished sweeping away all the German cockroaches, burped—
"Boom—!!"
Crimson, even slightly purple flames spouted from its throat, igniting a certain old man's beard successfully.