0513 Identity

For years, the wizarding world had engaged in endless speculation regarding the extent of Albus Dumbledore’s remaining powers.

Since his legendary duel with Grindelwald, which had become the stuff of magical history, few credible reports existed of Dumbledore engaging in magical combat. Many in the wizarding community had concluded that Albus Dumbledore, having surpassed his first century of life, retained little of his former magical might. They continued to revere him primarily for his accumulated wisdom and high reputation rather than his current capabilities.

Even those who worked closely with Dumbledore had come to view him more as a spiritual guide and source of moral support, placing their faith in his wisdom rather than his magical prowess. Perhaps Bryan counted among the few who truly understood the depth of Dumbledore’s abilities.

A subtle yet persistent aura of latent power emanated from Dumbledore’s aged body, serving as a constant reminder that this centenarian wizard possessed far more strength than others suspected. Bryan had even begun to harbor suspicions that Dumbledore held some form of magical trump card, one he had been carefully preserving specifically to counter Voldemort… or possibly to use against Bryan himself, should circumstances ever require it.

“Do you think—” Bryan shifted his gaze toward the window, where moonlight streamed through the leaded glass, his voice dropping to barely more than a whisper, “Headmaster Dumbledore, that we should attempt to ascertain the impostor’s true identity?”

“Ah, naturally—” Dumbledore rose from the sofa with surprising grace for one his age. “While we’ve reached our understanding about permitting Tom to regain his power, we should at minimum know to whom we’ve been paying a professor’s salary. Come, Bryan, let’s unravel this final mystery—”

The night had grown bitter cold, and Hogwarts, perched majestically upon its highland cliffs, had succumbed to deep slumber. Throughout the vast castle, it appeared that only the Headmaster and the Head of Student Security remained awake – though surely the industrious house-elves toiled away in the kitchens far below, preparing for tomorrow’s breakfast feast.

Dumbledore and Bryan walked through the ancient stone bridge suspended thousands of feet above the black waters of the lake, their footsteps echoing off the weathered stones. They navigated the maze like corridors, their way lit only by occasional torches that cast long shadows on the castle walls, until finally arriving at the imposing tower that housed Dumbledore’s private office.

Within the Headmaster’s office, Fawkes the phoenix dozed upon his golden perch above the ornate fire basin. The portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses hung in their frames, their figures snoring softly or muttering in their sleep. The circular chamber hummed with the gentle whirring and clicking of dozens of mysterious silver instruments – delicate alchemical devices whose purposes were known only to Dumbledore himself.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, Bryan. We’ll require the assistance of certain specialized tools—”

Bryan settled into an armchair while Dumbledore moved with surprising jolliness toward the towering bookshelf, retrieving an extraordinarily complex silver mechanism from a lower compartment and placed it carefully upon his massive claw-footed desk.

Bryan noticed, with some amusement, a hint of barely contained excitement in Dumbledore’s movements, rather similar to that of Hermione encountering a particularly challenging examination question.

“Now then—”

Dumbledore withdrew his wand with a flourish and delivered a gentle tap to the mysterious device. Bryan felt a subtle yet unmistakable wave of magical energy suddenly pulse outward, rapidly expanding beyond the confines of the office like ripples in an invisible pond.

After approximately fifteen seconds of tense anticipation, the device unexpectedly sprang to life, producing a series of melodious chimes that echoed off the stone walls. The delicate silver tubes protruding from its upper surface began emitting pale green smoke that merged and swirled in the air above the desk.

Bryan instinctively rose to his feet, and both he and Dumbledore observed with rapt attention as these ethereal wisps gradually thickened and began to take recognizable form, waiting with bated breath for the final revelation.

Bang!

Just moments before the answer could fully materialize, a brilliant flash of emerald light suddenly erupted within the smoke. Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened instantly, his reflexes still lightning-quick as he swiftly brought down his wand in a decisive motion. The carefully formed smoke pattern scattered at his intervention, and that ominous green light dissipated like morning mist before the sun.

“Oh, how fascinating indeed—”

This time, it was Dumbledore who broke the tense silence, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of enthusiasm:

“Extremely vigilant and careful, our mystery guest. I believe precautionary measures have been implemented at every conceivable level, extending even to the very soul—”

Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes met Bryan’s, a knowing smile appearing across his aged face as he continued:

“This unknown gentleman or lady has employed a rather ingenious method of disguising their soul’s signature. I very nearly triggered their protective enchantment, but… in my considered opinion, this doesn’t appear to be the handiwork of an ordinary wizard or perhaps…. any wizard.”

If Bryan failed to grasp Dumbledore’s implication now, he would truly deserve to be counted among the dullest minds ever to walk Hogwarts’ halls. In fact, it was a conclusion that required remarkably little deliberation to reach.

After a prolonged moment of heavy silence, broken only by the soft whirring of silver instruments, Bryan released a deep sigh and shook his head in resignation.

“Cliodna, this foolish woman,” he muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation, “she seems determined to spend whatever remains of her life behind the cold walls of Azkaban prison.”

…

*Scenebreak*

The last day of October fell upon Hogwarts with an air of unusual anticipation. While Saturdays typically saw students indulging in their warm beds until well past breakfast time, this particular morning was remarkably different.

The stone corridors echoed with the sound of hurried footsteps as young wizards and witches, descended the staircases earlier than usual for a weekend morning. As they rushed through the gigantic wooden doors into the entrance hall, they collectively gasped in wonder at the sight that they saw: The Great Hall had undergone yet another magnificent transformation.

The enchanted ceiling above, which perfectly mirrored the early morning sky, now had an enormous flock of live bats. Hundreds of carved jack-o’-lanterns peered down at the students with flickering, mysterious expressions from every corner.

The stone walls were adorned with vibrant Halloween decorations – shimmering orange and black ribbons that seemed to dance, floating candles that cast an eerie glow, and skeletons that did twirls in mid-air.

The young wizards suddenly realized: Today was Halloween.

In previous years, the Halloween feast had had always been a source of excitement and anticipation that students spoke about for months after that. This year, however, the traditional festivities had been overshadowed by something even more extraordinary – the legendary Triwizard Tournament.

Near the enormous oak front doors, Hagrid’s masterpiece pumpkins stood like watchmen, each one magically enlarged through careful application of the Engorgement Charm until they matched small cottages in size. Their orange surfaces gleamed in the morning light, but few students lingered to admire them.

Instead, the crowd gathering in the entrance hall buzzing with excitement, and all eyes were fixed upon the Weasley twins, Fred and George, who were about to attempt a great experiment.

“Their foolhardiness truly knows no bounds,” Hermione said with indignation as she watched the scene unfold. “What makes them think they can succeed?” Her voice carried that familiar tone of intellectual superiority as she continued in a matter-of-fact tone, “An Aging Potion, of all things! Do they honestly believe Professor Dumbledore would be deceived by such a simple potion!”

Harry, also anticipating the outcome, heard Hermione’s criticism and said fairly, “You can’t really blame them, though,” he said thoughtfully, running a hand through his messy black hair. “And I bet they aren’t the only ones trying this. The promise of becoming a champion, instantly achieving fame throughout the wizarding world, not to mention winning a large sum of Galleons – it’s the kind of temptation that would make anyone at least consider bending the rules.”

“Yeah, Dumbledore’s brilliant, no question about that-” Ron interjected, his freckled face vibrant with excitement as he watched his older brothers’ preparations. His bright blue eyes sparkled with barely contained enthusiasm, clearly disagreeing with Hermione’s assessment.

While Hermione shot Harry a disapproving glare, Ron pressed on with his theory, “But that’s exactly why this might work! A wizard of his caliber would be focused on detecting powerful magical tampering, not simple potions. He’d probably be looking for someone trying to break his age line with advanced spells, not thinking about basic tricks like this-“

“Oh, your logic is absolutely fascinating, Ron-” Hermione’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes dramatically. “But have you considered the bigger implications if such ‘simple tricks’ actually succeeded? Imagine the diplomatic nightmare if Hogwarts’ champion turned out to be an underage student!

How would Professor Dumbledore and Professor Watson explain such a breach to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang? Remember, Hogwarts wasn’t automatically chosen to host this tournament – they must have worked tremendously hard to secure this honor.”

Her words landed like a bucket of cold water on both Harry and Ron. The truth was, they hadn’t considered these larger consequences, and Harry was certain that Fred and George, in their enthusiasm, hadn’t either.

“Perhaps we should stop them?” Harry suggested hesitantly, watching as the twins continued their preparations, their matching grins growing wider by the moment as they joked with their admirers.

Professor Dumbledore and Professor Watson were two wizards Harry respected the most. While the prospect of becoming Hogwarts’ champion had undoubtedly crossed his mind more than once, he would much rather remain a spectator than risk causing difficulties for two wizards he deeply respected.

Ron’s previous enthusiasm was notably diminished as he shifted uncomfortably, his gaze toward his brothers now was tinged with concern rather than excitement. He had secretly harbored hopes of trying the same method if Fred and George’s method was successful.

Now, after Hermione’s reminder of the potential consequences and considering Professor Watson’ kindness to their family, Ron realized that if becoming a champion would cause trouble for Professor Watson, his mother would likely tear him apart before he could even participate in the first task.

“Oh, I don’t think we need to-” Hermione said confidently, crossing her arms as she watched the twins’ preparations with disapproval. “They’ll soon learn their lesson. They’ve completely forgotten Professor Watson’s explicit warning about age restriction attempts.”

Meanwhile, at another corner of the castle grounds, a different scene was unfolding in the crisp morning air.

“Before you stretches one of Hogwarts’ most famous natural landmarks, renowned throughout magical Britain – the magnificent Black Lake!” Bryan’s voice carried across the misty shore with infectious enthusiasm.

The early morning sun struggled to pierce through the autumn mist that clung to the lake’s surface like a protective blanket. As the season marched steadily toward winter, a line of ancient paddles along the shoreline swayed their deep bright green branches in a hypnotic dance, their leaves occasionally catching the weak sunlight and throwing off golden sparkles.

Bryan was speaking enthusiastically—at least, his expression said so. He was introducing the Black Lake to a group of visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang with passionate fervor. And he seemed completely oblivious to their mixed reactions – some still fighting off sleep, others looking bewildered at his early morning energy.

Earlier this morning, Mr. Bryan Watson had eagerly appeared at the quarters of both visiting schools, extending an invitation for a comprehensive tour of Hogwarts.

Naturally, no one had declined the opportunity to spend time with the famous Bryan Watson, especially when he offered to introduce the historical and magical wonders of Hogwarts, an institution that had significant importance in the world of magical education.

To everyone’s surprise, however, their first destination had been the chilly lakeshore, where Bryan had launched into an extended essay about the vast body of water before them.

Among the visitors, Fleur stood out, her silvery-blonde hair catching the morning light as she silently fumed. Her facial features were set in barely concealed irritation as she glared angrily at Bryan Watson gritting her teeth.

The previous night, when she had left Bryan’s office, she had felt secretly triumphant. After all, Dumbledore had agreed on Bryan’s behalf to have him give her a tour of Hogwarts, and she thought it would be a good opportunity to spend time alone with Bryan. But to her immense disappointment, the man had transformed what she had hoped would be an intimate tour into a ‘group expedition’!

“The Black Lake is home to an extraordinary variety of magical aquatic beings,” Bryan continued, his voice filled with intellectual enthusiasm. “Its depths harbor communities of merpeople, colonies of grindylows, and most notably, a remarkable giant squid. According to Hogwarts’ historical records, this magnificent creature has dwelled in these waters since the school’s founding – it may well have witnessed the four great founders themselves walking these shores!”

This captured the attention of many previously disinterested students, who suddenly perked up and began scanning the lake’s surface eagerly, hoping to catch a glimpse of such legendary creature.

“Now then, ladies and gentlemen, please follow me closely. We’re now going to visit another noteworthy landmark on the Hogwarts grounds!”

Bryan clapped his hands forcefully, deliberately pushing past a cluster of shivering Beauxbatons students who huddled together against the biting wind. He pretended not to notice Fleur’s increasingly hostile glare as she protectively held onto an elegantly dressed adorable little girl.

“The Whomping Willow!”

Leading his group across the frost-covered lawn to the opposite side of the grounds, Bryan gestured dramatically toward an enormous tree that was already showing signs of agitation, its massive branches swaying threateningly at the approach of so many potential targets.

“This remarkable specimen is an extraordinarily rare magical plant with highly specific growing requirements,” Bryan explained. “It can only thrive in locations with exceptionally high concentrations of magical energy. To my knowledge, this is the only one of its kind in all of Britain. However–“

With a subtle gesture of his finger, Bryan levitated a substantial clump of moss from near his feet, guiding it slowly through the air toward the agitated tree.

CRACK!

The sound of the Whomping Willow’s strike cut through the morning air like a whip, followed by an explosive impact as the moss disintegrated under the tree’s powerful blow. Fragments of debris rained down upon the watching guests like raindrops.

“As this demonstration clearly explains, it is an extremely dangerous plant-” Bryan’s voice took on a more serious edge as he addressed the guests, who were still letting out surprised yelps and brushing debris from their clothes and hair.

“Since you’ll be living at Hogwarts for the entire academic year, I must emphasize this warning: never approach this tree out of curiosity during your free time. Every year, we have several overconfident first-year students who try to prove their agility by challenging it. As for the eventual fate of these unfortunate students – well, you’re welcome to inquire with Madam Pomfrey, our exceptional school nurse, for the rather painful details-“

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