The legendary Mirror of Erised, a renowned alchemy item, allows anyone standing before it to see their deepest desires.
It's truly magical.
"Is this... the Mirror of the Heart?"
Kael resisted the urge to take a look, shifting his gaze elsewhere.
"It seems you've recognized the Mirror of Erised."
Dumbledore appeared behind Kael at some point, warmly saying: "I'm glad you resisted its temptation, something many adult wizards fail to do.
People often squander their time in front of it, obsessed with what they see, sometimes even driven mad."
"I just wanted to avoid unnecessary troubles, Headmaster," Kael turned and smiled, "I'm quite content with my life now."
"A wise choice."
Dumbledore walked around Kael, gently touching the golden frame of the mirror and said, "I must admit, in this regard, you've surpassed an old man like me, for even I sometimes can't resist taking a peek."
"So, what do you see when you look in the mirror?" Kael asked at the right moment, "The true meaning of magic? Or more profound theories?"
"You're flattering me too much, Kael."
"I may not be as great as you think because I see myself holding a pair of thick woolen socks."
"You can never have enough socks," Dumbledore blinked, "Christmas comes and goes, yet I haven't received a single pair, people insist on giving me books."
Kael had reason to suspect Dumbledore was hinting at getting a gift. After all, Christmas was less than two months away.
Just as Kael pondered whether to do something, Dumbledore had already returned to his desk, making himself a cup of tea and a plateful of sugar cubes.
"Want something to drink, Kael?"
"Lemonade, please."
Dumbledore nodded, and soon a large glass of lemonade appeared on the table.
Kael took a sip, realizing it had the taste of ordinary lemonade, unchanged by being in the Headmaster's Office.
After finishing the whole glass, Dumbledore across from him continued leisurely sipping his tea, showing no intention of starting a conversation.
The portraits of former headmasters on the wall were quiet too, gently snoring in their frames, though occasionally one would half-open an eye to sneak a glance at him.
In such an atmosphere, Kael felt thoroughly uneasy.
Right then, the sound of Quidditch match whistles came from outside the window.
Gathering his thoughts, Kael asked first, "Headmaster, is there a reason you called for me?"
"Look at me, I almost forgot about business, too busy drinking tea,"
Dumbledore patted his forehead, got up, and led Kael to a tall, gilded perch behind the door.
A fiery red phoenix was perched there, none other than Fawkes.
"Recently, Fawkes has been in a bad mood with me," Dumbledore said helplessly, "but I don't know why, could you ask what's wrong for me?"
"Really?"
Kael understood, turning to look at Fawkes. He knew the phoenix must have heard Dumbledore's words just now.
Fawkes glanced at Kael, then turned its gaze to Dumbledore, its bird face displaying a clear expression of disdain, reluctantly letting out a cry.
Kael nodded and said, "No wonder you're so upset."
"What did it say?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
Despite being a language genius capable of learning Parseltongue and Goblin Language, phoenixes are different. Their ancient language is very obscure, and even he finds it hard to understand completely.
Moreover, an angry Fawkes seemed to speak with an accent, making it even harder for him to comprehend.
Kael considered the words carefully, "Headmaster, Fawkes asked you not to pile cockroaches in its food anymore."
Dumbledore's expression was somewhat incredulous, "I always thought it would enjoy that."
Upon hearing Dumbledore's words, Fawkes turned its back angrily, showing only its backside.
It's a phoenix, not a chicken; how could it possibly like bugs?
Realizing his mistake, Dumbledore quickly apologized, trying to make up for it.
But Fawkes ignored him, changing direction wherever Dumbledore went, always showing him only its back. It even covered its head with its wings, completely disregarding what was said.
In the end, Kael offered his dittany leaf and a piece of bellflower, barely soothing the enraged Fawkes.
Don't get it wrong, the bellflower wasn't taken from the common room but was a prize for helping Professor Sprout clean the greenhouse.
Sadly, it was gone before he could warm it up.
Watching Fawkes gulp it down in a few bites, Kael felt a pang of heartache.
"I knew I was right in finding you,"
Dumbledore happily patted Kael's shoulder, "Without you, it might have taken me a good while to calm it down."
"It's nothing, Headmaster," Kael forced a smile, "Is there anything else? If not, I'd like to watch the Quidditch match."
Kael fiddled with his Transfiguration Lizard Skin Bag, feeling that he didn't want to stay a minute longer.
If Fawkes decides it hasn't eaten enough and starts causing trouble again, what then? He's just a first-year young wizard without extra herbs to waste.
Besides, it's not his phoenix; better to let Dumbledore handle it himself.
"There's one small matter left, rest assured, it won't take too much of your time," Dumbledore turned to retrieve a bottle of potion from a drawer behind his desk.
"This is the Demon Suppression Potion for Mikel."
Dumbledore explained: "Originally, I was going to have Madam Pomfrey deliver it to him, but I thought he might not want to visit the infirmary. Since you're here, could you take it back with you?"
Kael took the potion, unable to resist asking: "Headmaster, has Mikel still not learned to control his magic power?"
"It's not an easy thing," Dumbledore mused, "But Pomona mentioned that he's making rapid progress; by the time he moves up to second grade, he shouldn't need the Demon Suppression Potion anymore."
Kael nodded.
"Remember," Dumbledore instructed, "I know Professor Snape's Demon Suppression Potion might not be tasty, but it's very important for Mikel. Make sure he actually drinks it rather than just dumping it somewhere."
"Don't worry, Headmaster, Mikel is my roommate," Kael smiled, "I'll make sure he drinks it all."
"Then I'm reassured," Dumbledore once again picked up his tea, "Go watch the match; it should still be going."
(Weakly asking for a vote)