"Of course, I'm happy to be a listener," Dumbledore said warmly. He glanced toward Professor McGonagall at the door and gestured for her to leave and get some rest.
McGonagall barely acknowledged him and quietly turned to go.
Freshmen often have bold and astonishing discoveries—like moving armor in the castle or secret passages behind portraits. Even if the discovery is big, the headmaster would rather shoulder all the responsibility himself and retire early.
Dumbledore rummaged beneath the table and pulled out another box of candy—not cockroaches this time. His stash wasn't large; he had to save some for himself.
Loren began recounting what he'd seen during the Sorting ceremony—the scar on Harry's forehead, the strange shadow that flickered on Professor Snape's arm, and the curious scarf Professor Quirrell always wore.
He shared some of his thoughts cautiously: Snape bore a permanent dark mark on his arm, and Harry's scar contained fragments of Voldemort's soul. But some secrets were too sensitive to reveal.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
Snape's situation needed no further explanation, but Harry's condition seemed worse than expected.
As for Professor Quirrell, after his return from Albania, an increasingly odd scent clung to him. Wearing that extra scarf was just a poor attempt to mask it.
Dumbledore had crafted a subtle plan and believed they would soon catch their "fish."
"Loren, you have extraordinary talents—not just your eyes," Dumbledore said seriously, popping a lemon sherbet into his mouth.
Loren blinked, puzzled. Were there other talents he hadn't noticed?
Seeing Loren's doubt, Dumbledore explained, "Perhaps I'm willing to share unique secrets with someone I've only just met because I am the headmaster… But trust is an incredibly rare quality."
The headmaster returned to the topic of Loren's eyes. "Magic perception is a profound skill. Many students never master it, even by graduation. You're already far ahead."
"Headmaster, can you see those strange things, too?" Loren asked aloud.
Dumbledore curled his lips into a sly smile. "Maybe not so clearly, but I do see some."
"Is it Animagus, too? What about Apparition?" Loren's curiosity about these "three-no golden fingers" grew.
"Haha, that's a secret." Dumbledore smiled mysteriously.
"Did you find it strange that you saw Ron Weasley's mouse?" Loren pressed, eager to hasten the conversation.
"Oh, the Weasley boy—I hadn't really noticed he had a pet mouse. I'm more familiar with his parents, Arthur and Molly…" Dumbledore trailed off, then added with a nostalgic sigh, "You know, as you get older, you tend to talk more about the past."
"Let's talk about the mouse."
Loren swallowed his candy and said, "When I first saw the mouse, it reminded me of the cat Professor McGonagall transformed into."
Dumbledore's expression grew serious. "You mean that mouse is also an Animagus."
"I think so," Loren added. "The mouse has lived with the Weasleys for over ten years and was once Percy's pet."
"A wizard hiding in someone else's house is never a friendly move," Dumbledore said, his voice taking on an unintentionally majestic tone.
"Are we going to catch him?"
"No, we shouldn't alarm him—for now."
Dumbledore shared his thoughts: "An evil wizard has been hiding here for over a decade. We can't know if he's harmed the Weasleys. If he causes irreparable damage to Ron or others, it will be hard for us to forgive ourselves."
The magical world is full of strange curses and dark magic; ten years is enough time for a curse to take hold. Dumbledore's concern was justified.
"But…" Loren's anxiety swelled. He knew much of the story but couldn't say it aloud.
Thinking Loren only wanted to catch the villain, Dumbledore said, "I have a task for you."
He waved his wand, and a glowing star flew in through the window, settling into his palm. The warm yellow light floated there, soft as moonlight on a quiet lake.
Loren noticed Dumbledore's hands: slightly rough, but with few wrinkles. They looked strong and powerful, more like a man in his forties than an old grandpa—even Grandpa Bates couldn't compare.
Dumbledore reached out, and Loren held out his right hand blankly.
The star floated into Loren's palm, sinking gently into his skin. A small, coin-sized four-pointed star appeared.
"I need you to secretly attach this star to that mouse," Dumbledore winked.
Loren accepted the task dazedly. Dumbledore said nothing more about the plan.
Only after walking a distance did Loren realize: this was just a game for the child. The key details were never mentioned.
"You have so many thoughts," Loren muttered to himself.
It was still early; the corridor candles flickered softly.
Filch and Mrs. Norris hadn't started their rounds yet—Filch the caretaker and Mrs. Norris his cat.
That day's Gryffindor common room password was "Pig Nose."
Inside, Ron sat in front of the fireplace, teaching Harry wizard chess. Hermione was reading quietly nearby. Other Gryffindor students mingled in small groups, playing or studying.
Loren entered. Hermione glanced up, then sighed with relief and looked away.
Though she hadn't forgiven Loren for his bad behavior, she didn't want him expelled.
Harry called Loren over to join the chess game. Loren liked wizard chess, but he had other priorities.
"Ron, remember when you tried to turn your mouse yellow on the train?" Loren began, a plan forming.
"Yeah, but it didn't work. Why?"
"I asked Professor McGonagall about the Transfiguration spell. Now I can try. Can I borrow your mouse?"
Ron hesitated. He loved his pet. But after Loren offered him some lemon sherbets, Ron found it normal to lend a pet to a friend.
Loren gently picked up the mouse.
Scabbers was fast asleep and didn't react. It looked like an ordinary mouse, slightly larger than Loren's palm.
Feeling its soft, warm flesh beneath sparse hair, Loren had an odd impulse to squeeze the mouse hard enough to crush its bones.
Exhaling sharply, he shook the feeling away.
He whispered, "Daisy, sweet cream and sunshine, turn this fat mouse yellow."
The mouse didn't move and stayed asleep.
Loren handed it back. "Looks like it's not working."
"Maybe the spell's off. We can't use it."
Ron happily popped a lemon sherbet and handed a few to Harry.
"You two go ahead and play. I'll check something first," Loren said, settling down.
He looked at his palm—the four-pointed star had vanished.