The legendary Mirror of Erised, a renowned alchemical artifact, shows anyone standing before it their heart's deepest desire. It was truly magical.
"Is this... a mirror of the soul?" Kyle resisted the urge to look into it, turning his gaze elsewhere.
"I see you recognize the Mirror of Erised." Dumbledore appeared behind him without warning, "I'm pleased to see you can resist its temptation — something many adult wizards find impossible. People often waste away before it, obsessed with what they see, even driven to madness."
"I just don't want to create more trouble for myself, Headmaster." Kyle turned and smiled, "I'm quite content with my life as it is."
"A wise choice." Dumbledore walked past him and gently stroked the mirror's golden frame, "I must admit, in this regard, you've surpassed this old man, for even I sometimes can't resist coming to take a peek."
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?" Kyle asked carefully, "The essence of magic? Or perhaps even more profound theories?"
"You're making me blush, Kyle."
"I may not be as great as you think. What I see is myself holding a thick pair of woolen socks."
"One can never have enough socks." Dumbledore said with a wink, "Christmas comes and goes, and I don't get a single pair — people insist on giving me books."
Kyle suspected the old man was hinting at a gift suggestion. After all, Christmas was less than two months away.
Before he could ponder the hint further, Dumbledore had already returned to his desk, conjuring himself a cup of tea and a plate full of sugar cubes.
"Would you like something to drink, Kyle?"
"Lemonade, please."
Dumbledore nodded, and soon a large glass of lemonade appeared on the table.
Kyle took a sip — it tasted like ordinary lemonade, no different for being served in the headmaster's office.
After he finished the glass, Dumbledore continued leisurely sipping his tea across from him, showing no sign of starting a conversation. The portraits of former headmasters on the wall were quiet too, all gently snoring in their frames, though occasionally one would half-open an eye to observe him secretly.
In this atmosphere, Kyle felt quite uncomfortable.
Just then, the sound of a Quidditch match whistle drifted through the window.
Kyle gathered his thoughts and spoke first, "Headmaster, did you need something from me?"
"Oh my, I got so caught up in my tea that I almost forgot the important matter." Dumbledore tapped his forehead and stood up, leading him to a tall gilded perch behind the door.
There stood a brilliant red phoenix — Fawkes.
"Fawkes has been in quite a mood with me lately." Dumbledore said worriedly, "But I don't know why. Could you help me ask him?"
"Is that so?" Kyle nodded and turned to look at Fawkes, knowing the phoenix must have understood what the old man had just said.
The phoenix gave Kyle a look, then turned his gaze to Dumbledore, his bird face clearly showing an expression of disgust as he reluctantly let out a cry.
Kyle nodded and said, "No wonder you're so angry."
"What did he say?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
Though he was a linguistic genius who had taught himself Parseltongue and Gobbledegook, phoenix language was different — the language of these ancient creatures was so obscure that even he struggled to understand it fully.
Moreover, when Fawkes was angry, his speech carried an accent that made it even harder to comprehend.
Kyle chose his words carefully, "Headmaster, Fawkes wants you to stop putting cockroach clusters in his food."
Dumbledore's expression was one of disbelief, "I always thought he would like those."
Upon hearing these words, Fawkes immediately turned around angrily, pointing his tail feathers at Dumbledore.
He was a phoenix, not a chicken — how could he possibly like insects?
Dumbledore realized his mistake and quickly apologized, trying to make amends.
But Fawkes ignored him. No matter where the old wizard went, the phoenix would instantly change direction, always keeping his tail toward him. He even covered his head with his wing, refusing to listen to anything Dumbledore said.
In the end, it was Kyle who managed to placate the angry Fawkes by offering his dittany leaves and a bluebell.
Don't misunderstand — these weren't taken from the common room; they were his reward for helping Professor Sprout clean the greenhouse. Unfortunately, they were gone before he'd barely had time to appreciate them.
Watching Fawkes gulp them down in two or three bites, Kyle felt quite heartbroken.
"I knew I was right to ask for your help." Dumbledore said happily, patting his shoulder, "Without you, it might have taken me quite a while to calm him down."
"It's nothing, Headmaster." Kyle said with a forced smile, "Is there anything else? If not, I'd like to go watch the Quidditch match."
He touched his transformed lizard skin pouch, not wanting to stay a minute longer.
What if Fawkes got hungry again and started acting up? As a first-year student, he had no more herbs to spare. Besides, the phoenix was Dumbledore's responsibility — let him handle it.
"Just one small matter, don't worry, it won't take much of your time."
Dumbledore turned and took out a potion from the drawer behind his desk.
"This is Michael's magic suppression potion." He explained, "I was going to have Madam Pomfrey deliver it to him, but I thought he probably wouldn't want to go to the hospital wing. Since you're here, you might as well take it back with you."
Kyle took the potion and couldn't help asking, "Headmaster, hasn't Michael learned to control his magic yet?"
"It's not an easy thing to master." Dumbledore said after a moment's thought, "But Pomona says he's making quick progress. By the time he reaches second year, he probably won't need the suppression potion anymore."
Kyle nodded.
"Remember…" Dumbledore cautioned, "I know Professor Snape's suppression potion doesn't taste pleasant, but it's vital for Michael. Make sure he actually drinks it, rather than pouring it away somewhere."
"Don't worry, Headmaster. Michael is my roommate." Kyle smiled, "I'll make sure he drinks it all."
"That puts my mind at ease." Dumbledore said, picking up his tea again, "Now go watch the match — it shouldn't be over yet."
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