Chapter 3 — Dumbledore
A sudden breeze swept through the woods, stirring up a few fallen leaves. Fern's long purple hair swayed lightly.
She snapped her head up, and her right hand instantly traced an arc through the air.
A wooden staff tied with a purple ribbon appeared out of nowhere in her palm, its tip aimed directly toward the source of the magical disturbance.
"Mistress Frieren, something's here!"
Her voice carried its usual crisp clarity, yet there was not the slightest trace of panic in it.
Frieren sensed it as well and immediately rose to her feet, looking ahead. Stark, meanwhile, grabbed the battle axe slung diagonally across his back in one swift motion. Though the weapon was longer than he was tall, it seemed weightless in his hands as he stepped in front of Frieren and Fern.
The moment Dumbledore Apparated in, this was the scene that greeted him:
A red-haired boy effortlessly wielding a battle axe far too large for his size, and two girls holding strange wands, all three pairs of eyes fixed on him at once—wary, but calm and composed in their scrutiny.
Most surprising of all was the dangerous aura radiating from these three young people. Even he, the greatest wizard of the age, found himself unconsciously tightening his grip on the Elder Wand hidden in his robes.
"Mistress Frieren, there's a strong magical reaction coming from inside his right sleeve."
Fern's voice dropped lower, and she nudged her staff forward another inch.
She could feel the weight of that magic. It was like an ancient tome that had settled for centuries—warm and dignified, yet unfathomably deep.
Dumbledore was inwardly startled.
This child's sensitivity to magic was even sharper than Snape's had been in his youth!
Slowly, he drew both hands from his robes and opened his palms to show that he meant no harm.
"Please, don't be alarmed, children. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
He gave the gold-embossed envelope in his hand a small wave.
"I have come to deliver Miss Fern's letter of admission.
"And if you would permit it, I would also like to cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm. If ordinary people were to see us like this, the Ministry of Magic would certainly cause me no end of trouble."
As he spoke, he gave Fern a small wink, kindness shining in the blue eyes behind his spectacles.
"Muggles means ordinary people?" Frieren asked. "Why can't ordinary people be allowed to see us?"
"Yes," Dumbledore replied patiently. "Muggles are those without magical talent.
"To protect wizards from persecution by Muggles, the Ministry of Magic enacted the International Statute of Secrecy. Wizards are not allowed to display magic in front of Muggles, in order to protect the wizarding world."
As he explained, he noticed Frieren's gaze resting on the short wand in his hand.
Frieren did not seem particularly concerned with why Dumbledore called mages "wizards," but seeing the short wand in his hand, she had already begun forming a guess.
"Was it changed into a more concealable design to escape the Empire's pursuit? But how could Serie possibly have allowed something like that to happen?"
"Unless Serie has already…"
Frieren suddenly thought of certain rumors about the Empire.
She hurriedly asked, "Did Serie not intervene to stop the Empire?"
"Serie?" Dumbledore's smile faded slightly, and a trace of puzzlement appeared in his eyes. "I have never heard that name before. Perhaps you could describe what she looks like."
"Serie is an elf, like me. She has long golden hair, she's very short, and she never wears shoes. As for her age… by now she should be over five thousand years old."
"An elf? Over five thousand years old? I'm sorry, but I've never encountered an elf."
Looking at the matter-of-fact expressions on the other two faces beside Frieren, Dumbledore felt genuine shock stir within him.
For the first time in many years, his understanding of the world wavered.
He was certain she was not lying.
A child of eleven with the power of a professor. A red-haired boy who even made him feel danger. And an elf whose age could not even be measured normally—
Frieren looked at Dumbledore, who did not appear to be lying.
Frieren and Fern alike fell into deep shock. An incredulous silence spread through the air.
"No… impossible."
Neither of them could imagine a world in which Serie had died.
Dumbledore watched the two stunned girls, and by now he was almost numb with disbelief himself. The silver-haired girl's strength was at least close to his own, yet the Serie she spoke of was clearly far beyond even her.
In his memory, perhaps only that mysterious former student—proficient in all manner of ancient magic and impossible to trace—might have possessed such power…
"Miss Fern, Hogwarts is the finest magical school in all of Britain. I wonder whether you would be interested in enrolling."
Dumbledore's gentle voice interrupted their thoughts.
"Mistress Frieren."
Fern instinctively turned to her teacher for guidance.
"Is Fern the only one who can go?" Frieren asked.
Right now, they desperately needed to understand how the future had developed—and what had happened to Serie. Frieren simply could not believe that her overwhelmingly powerful master could have died.
Naturally, Dumbledore had no intention of letting three mysterious, powerful individuals with no knowledge of the wizarding world simply wander around outside.
More importantly, they seemed utterly ignorant of the current magical world. If they were misled by dark wizards, the consequences would be unthinkable.
"Of course, both of you are welcome to visit Hogwarts," Dumbledore replied. "However, the Book of Admittance does not contain your names. If you would tell me what you are skilled at, perhaps I could find suitable positions for you at Hogwarts."
The three of them lowered their weapons.
Fern stepped forward and introduced them.
"This is Mistress Frieren, my teacher."
Frieren also stepped forward and introduced herself.
"The magic I'm best at is creating a field of flowers. And I'm a grown-up lady, you know."
As she said this, she puffed out her chest slightly.
Dumbledore paid no mind to Frieren's declaration that she was a grown-up lady.
A spell that creates a field of flowers? he thought. I've never heard of such magic, but she seems to be an elf with a gentle heart.
"Miss Frieren, to possess such a wealth of magical knowledge at so young an age—and to have taught such an outstanding student—is truly remarkable. Once we arrive at Hogwarts, I must ask you for guidance."
The moment Frieren heard Dumbledore say she was young, she immediately smiled. She placed both hands against her cheeks and struck a pleased little pose, then shot an annoyed look at Stark, who was about to speak.
"If you actually say those words, I really will burst into tears. It's such a terrible temper that even Hero Himmel was frightened by it."
Dumbledore stood there in silence for a moment as Frieren folded her arms and looked thoroughly proud of herself. He began to wonder whether he had truly overthought things—or whether elves were simply all like this. For the first time, he found himself unable to judge Frieren's age at all.
"Why do you still remember that?!" Stark grumbled awkwardly, scratching at his red hair.
"This is Mr. Stark," Fern said, pointing at the red-haired boy.
"I'm the finest disciple of Eisen, the strongest warrior among humans," Stark declared smugly, flicking his hair with one hand.
"That's only because Lord Eisen has no other disciples."
"Fern, at least leave me a little dignity in front of strangers!"
"No."
Fern turned her head away and puffed out her cheeks.
With this bit of bickering, the unease the two of them had felt at arriving in an unknown place gradually began to fade.
Watching the scene unfold before him, Dumbledore could not help but sigh inwardly.
They were all good children.
A warrior, though?
His eyes drifted toward the battle axe on Stark's back—taller than the boy himself—then to Stark's slight frame, and the dangerous aura he gave off.
An eleven-year-old child able to wield such a weapon so effortlessly…
That "warrior talent" was truly extraordinary.
The smile in the old wizard's blue eyes deepened.
This year at Hogwarts was destined to be anything but peaceful.
***
(In the anime, Fern usually referred to Stark as Stark-sama, which in English is Master Stark or Mr. Stark)