Chapter 96: The Entry List and Albania

On the eighth floor, in the Headmaster's Office, Dumbledore sat calmly, sipping his tea sweetened with three lumps of sugar, watching with interest as Snape and Professor McGonagall argued.

It was entirely coincidental. Professor McGonagall had only come to see Dumbledore about something else, but as soon as she entered the room, she heard Snape shouting about his intent to expel a certain student.

"It's that Kyle Chopper again. Over the past few days, he's managed to con at least 500 Galleons out of other students."

"I told you then that he ought to be expelled for encouraging his classmates to break the rules with such boldness."

...

After listening for a moment, Professor McGonagall seemed to piece together the situation. She frowned and said, "Severus, we don't expel students for trivial matters like selling a few items."

"Trivial?" Snape raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze from Dumbledore to Professor McGonagall.

"With all due respect, Minerva, he's now attempting to organize students to cheat on exams."

"Cheat? Are you serious?" Professor McGonagall replied incredulously. "I've seen those items. They aren't even magical; they're just the most ordinary decorations."

"So Mr. Chopper was selling fake items?" Snape drawled, his tone heavy with implication. "Ordinary decorations aren't worth ten Galleons. Selling fake items at Hogwarts to swindle other young wizards is definitely grounds for expulsion!"

"Calm down, Severus."

At this point, Dumbledore finished his tea, set down the cup, and pulled out a large piece of parchment, placing it on the table.

"This is one of their product leaflets, which you may not have seen yet," he said, pointing to the large, bold text at the bottom of the page. "They've actually made everything quite clear, so it isn't really deceptive."

Snape squinted at the flyer, the flashing words causing his eyes to ache.

This product is purely symbolic... please purchase at your discretion.

"And furthermore," Dumbledore added after a moment's consideration, "from what I understand, most of the decorations purchased by students cost five Sickles, with only a few... well, the more eye-catching ones, priced at ten Galleons."

Upon hearing this, Snape's expression twisted, as if he'd just swallowed something foul. So, it was the Slytherins who had bought the ones for ten Galleons.

"And what about this part?" Snape demanded, scowling as he held up the flyer. "They mentioned you by name. Isn't that misleading?"

"Well... what they said is technically true," Dumbledore admitted, a slight flush coloring his face. "I did wear something similar during my graduation exam, but Professor Marchbanks confiscated it afterward."

"By Merlin's beard, I always assumed no one remembered that."

Snape's face darkened like the bottom of a cauldron. Without another word, he snatched up the flyer and stormed out of the Headmaster's Office.

"Bang!"

The loud slamming of the door startled Fawkes, who had been dozing peacefully, and the phoenix fluttered up onto Dumbledore's shoulder, pecking his beard in irritation.

"Sorry, Fawkes. Severus didn't mean it," Dumbledore murmured, trying to soothe him.

But Fawkes, thoroughly annoyed, kept tugging at his beard. With no other option, Dumbledore pulled out some Mandrake leaves from a drawer to calm the phoenix.

Then, looking up at Professor McGonagall, who seemed astonished, he said, "Don't look so surprised, Minerva. I was only seventeen then, and it's perfectly normal to do things that defy logic at that age. It was an exam in History of Magic, Professor Binns's class… You should understand."

Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched. She almost laughed… but managed to hold back.

"Alright…" Dumbledore smoothly changed the topic. "What did you come to see me about?"

At the mention of business, Professor McGonagall's expression grew a bit more serious.

"Ahem, here are the entry lists you requested, from June to August last year," she said, placing a small stack of parchments on the table. "The Ministry sent them to me yesterday when the owl failed to locate you."

"Thank you, Minerva. I need them now."

Dumbledore took the parchments and skimmed through them, then reached for another stack of similar-looking documents from the bookshelf behind him.

Curious, Professor McGonagall tried to catch a glimpse of the top page, but her eyesight only let her make out the first few words: Albania, leaving...

As Dumbledore began comparing the two sets of lists, Professor McGonagall quietly left the room.

With the door clicking shut once more, silence returned to the Headmaster's Office. The portraits on the walls, who had been feigning sleep, opened their eyes and gathered closer, eagerly discussing the topic at hand.

"It's that young wizard, Kyle, again," said a witch. "How many times has that name been mentioned in the Headmaster's Office?"

"At least three," replied a gaunt old man. "That potions professor has been complaining about him every time he's been here lately. Quite the troublesome student."

"I disagree," said the witch who'd spoken earlier, shaking her head. "I've seen the boy in the corridor. He's smart, humble, polite—even greets the portraits."

"Maybe he's just putting on an act," a caustic voice chimed in. "Just like that student back then… all hypocrisy."

"Enough, Phineas," said a bearded wizard in irritation. "This is different—he's a Hufflepuff!"

"True," Phineas Black muttered, wrinkling his nose. "He's from that foolish House, probably doesn't have much depth…"

"What did you say about Hufflepuff?" the bearded wizard shot back angrily, striding right into Phineas's frame and grabbing him by the collar.

Underneath the bearded wizard's original frame, it was clearly noted that he had graduated from Hufflepuff.

"Let go! Do you want to fight me?" Phineas shouted, struggling as he was held by the collar.

"I've wanted to for ages!"

With one swift punch, the bearded wizard knocked Phineas to the ground, then stomped on his face.

"Fool's House, is it? Ha! I'll show you the strength of Hufflepuff today!"

The other portraits rushed over at the sight, quickly setting up snacks, drinks, and little stools in the front row as they settled in. Watching Phineas get a thrashing had long been their favorite form of entertainment.

The Headmaster's Office couldn't do without Phineas any more than the Merpeople of the Black Lake could go without their broomsticks.

At that moment, Dumbledore, who had been engrossed in the parchments, finally looked up.

He adjusted his glasses, ignored the commotion among the portraits, got up, and walked over to the window, where he stood, staring out into the distance, lost in thought.