Phineas Nigellus Black studied the young wizard before him with a sharp, appraising gaze. Ryze stood calmly, his posture straight and composed, betraying neither discomfort nor arrogance. There was an effortless poise about him—an elegance that seemed deeply rooted, almost instinctive.
Phineas had to admit, though only to himself, that this boy carried a refinement rarely seen outside the old noble families. And yet, paradoxically, Ryze had never received the traditional upbringing expected of someone from such a lineage.
That contradiction unsettled him.
Still, Phineas was far too prideful to voice such thoughts aloud—especially in front of someone he considered a junior.
"Sharp-tongued," he said coldly, his lips curling slightly. "Just like your father. Using your intelligence in such… unconventional ways."
He paused briefly, as if considering whether to say more, but ultimately dismissed the idea.
"I don't think we have anything further to discuss."
Instead of raising his voice, he gave a contemptuous snort, turned sharply, and strode out of the frame. Within seconds, his figure disappeared from Ryze's sight entirely.
A brief silence settled over the office.
It lingered just long enough to become noticeable before a gentle voice broke it.
"Please forgive Phineas, Mr. White."
Albus Dumbledore spoke with his usual calm warmth, though there was a trace of understanding beneath his tone.
"For those who can only live in the past, reality often proves more painful than even the most vicious curse. Phineas knows the current state of the House of Black better than most. That is precisely why your presence affected him so strongly… and why he behaved somewhat out of character."
Ryze's expression remained unchanged as he glanced briefly at the now-empty portrait.
"I don't mind, Headmaster," he replied evenly. "At the very least, he is honest enough to express his dissatisfaction directly."
A faint pause followed before he added,
"Unlike another relative of mine—one who clearly despises my existence, yet still maintains the appearance of civility in front of others."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled faintly, though his expression remained thoughtful.
"You are remarkably clear-headed, Mr. White. Blood purity, in itself, holds no inherent glory. Unfortunately, many place undue importance on lineage, forgetting that their ancestors built their reputations through ability, not inheritance."
He studied Ryze with quiet appreciation.
It was rare to encounter someone so young who viewed such matters without illusion or vanity.
"Now then," Dumbledore continued, gently shifting the topic, "since Phineas interrupted us, let us return to our previous discussion."
He folded his hands lightly on the desk.
"Your father, Alphard, was an exceptional adventurer. After reaching adulthood, he rarely relied on family resources and instead forged his own path. In doing so, he accumulated considerable wealth, much of which he left to you."
There was a subtle note of respect in Dumbledore's voice.
"It was precisely because of his capabilities that he cared little for the so-called honor of the Black family name."
Ryze listened silently, offering neither agreement nor contradiction.
"I have also heard from Minerva," Dumbledore continued, "that your magical awakening occurred relatively late—around the age of ten—and that you inherited a form of Ancient Magic from your father."
He leaned forward slightly, curiosity evident.
"If you would permit it, I would very much like to examine the small companion you possess. I briefly noticed it during the feast in the Great Hall, but only from a distance."
Ryze nodded without hesitation.
"Of course."
With a subtle gesture, he summoned Ailey.
The small creature emerged fluidly from his body, landing lightly on Dumbledore's desk. It moved with an almost ethereal grace, as though its form existed somewhere between physical and magical.
The moment Ailey appeared, the delicate silver instruments on the desk reacted. Thin streams of smoke began to swirl more rapidly, thickening as if responding to an unseen force.
At the same time, the rune on Ailey's forehead glowed faintly.
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened.
"It appears that your companion's presence has triggered one of my detection devices," he observed calmly. "Remarkable… truly remarkable."
He lifted his wand and gently tapped the instrument. The device quieted almost instantly, and the swirling smoke settled.
As this happened, Ryze's eyes were drawn—almost instinctively—to the wand in Dumbledore's hand.
Dumbledore noticed.
Rather than concealing it, he casually placed the wand on the edge of the desk, as if deliberately allowing it to remain in view.
Then, leaning slightly closer, he examined Ailey more carefully.
Unbothered by the scrutiny, Ailey adjusted its position, turning its head so that the rune on its forehead faced Dumbledore directly.
"Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured.
"This rune does not correspond to any known magical system I have encountered. Nor does it resemble the markings of any recognized magical creature."
His voice softened with genuine wonder.
"It would seem that this being is not merely influenced by magic—but born from it. A manifestation of a rune itself, containing extraordinary potential."
He paused, studying both Ailey and Ryze.
"It is difficult to imagine who could create such a creature."
There was a subtle shift in his tone—less curiosity now, and more caution.
"Mr. White, possessing such a companion is undoubtedly a great fortune. However, one must also remember that the purer and more powerful a force is, the greater the danger if it falls out of control."
His gaze held steady.
"While it protects you, I trust that you will also take responsibility for protecting it."
Ryze extended his hand, and Ailey immediately responded, dissolving back into his body with effortless obedience.
"I understand, Headmaster."
Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, satisfied.
"Very good. Now, let us move on to the final matter."
He gestured subtly toward Ryze's pocket.
"The ring."
Ryze retrieved it without hesitation.
The artifact—Rowena Ravenclaw's ring—rested quietly in his palm, its design both elegant and intricate.
"I have spoken with Professor Bathsheda," Dumbledore continued. "She believes that your aptitude for Divination may exceed even that of Professor Trelawney."
There was a faint hint of amusement in his voice.
"I understand that on your first night at Hogwarts, you experienced a vision—one in which you encountered Lady Rowena herself. Following that dream, you were led to this ring, which appears to have been prepared for you across the span of a thousand years."
Dumbledore leaned closer, examining the ring without touching it.
"It is unmistakably her work," he said quietly. "The magic within this artifact is… flawless."
He paused briefly.
"Even I would not be able to remove it from your possession."
Straightening, he regarded Ryze thoughtfully.
"Divination is both a gift and a burden. It allows one to glimpse beyond the constraints of time—to perceive possibilities others cannot."
His expression grew more serious.
"But such knowledge comes at a cost."
He picked up his wand again, holding it lightly.
"I once knew a wizard of exceptional talent. He sought to alter the future he had foreseen… yet in doing so, he ultimately fulfilled it."
A brief silence followed.
"I would advise caution, Mr. White. Use this ability wisely, lest you find yourself entangled in forces beyond your control."
Then, quite unexpectedly, Dumbledore's demeanor shifted.
A playful glint appeared in his eyes as he gave Ryze a small wink.
"That said, I believe you are handling matters rather well so far—whether in your interactions with Harry and his friends, or in your performance in Potions."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Severus has mentioned you to me on several occasions."
Ryze raised an eyebrow slightly.
It did not take much imagination to guess that Snape's comments had not been particularly flattering.
"Professor Snape often criticizes my methods," Ryze replied calmly. "He considers them… shortcuts."
He paused briefly.
"However, I intend to refine my approach until even he is forced to revise that assessment."
Dumbledore chuckled softly.
"In Severus's case, that is already a form of praise. Very few students manage to leave such an impression on him."
He reached into a drawer and produced a small assortment of lemon sherbets.
Placing one into his mouth, he offered the rest to Ryze.
Afterward, he carefully hid several pieces in different corners of the desk, as though storing valuable treasures.
Only then did he lean back slightly.
"Well," he said, "I believe that concludes our discussion for tonight."
His tone was warm, but final.
"I am pleased to see such a promising young wizard at Hogwarts. Should you encounter any difficulties in the future, I would be most interested to hear from you."
There was a brief pause.
"Do not hesitate to send an owl."
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