Phoenix in the Raging Waves
On Thursday, as dawn broke, Harry climbed out of bed, yawning and dragging himself to the bathroom. He exchanged a formal greeting with Uncle Vernon, who had to leave early for work, before entering the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, Harry emerged from the Dursleys' house.
As expected, it was drizzling outside. Harry brushed his hair back and began his warm-up exercises along the flower garden path before embarking on his usual morning run.
This routine had become a daily obligation for him. A healthy and strong body was deemed essential for a proficient wizard.
Little Whinging's streets were devoid of people at this early hour. Being a middle-class residential area, it boasted better security, with no hooligans loitering about at night or drunken revelers disturbing the peace.
Only the occasional birdsong pierced the quiet, lending an air of serenity to the surroundings.
However, as Harry turned a corner during his run, a peculiar sight caught his eye, instantly arresting his attention.
There stood an elderly man cloaked in layers of silver-grey robes. Despite his age, he exuded vitality, standing tall with a straight posture, his height seemingly reaching a lofty 1.8 meters.
Sporting a purple hat, his long silver hair and beard cascaded down to his waist, meticulously groomed and not a strand out of place.
"A wizard!" Harry discerned immediately from the man's attire that he was no ordinary individual.
True to Harry's intuition, the old man nodded cordially upon noticing him.
Returning the smile, Harry couldn't help but speculate, "He must have noticed my scar." With that thought, he continued on his way, regulating his breathing and picking up speed as he crossed the street.
"No, that's not right..."
His pace gradually slackened, his gaze lingering on the deserted street as thoughts of the old man persisted in his mind.
"That person... he is..."
"Albus Dumbledore?!"
Finally, the realization dawned on Harry. He had seen this man before, depicted on Chocolate Frog cards and mentioned in the annals of modern magic.
Instantly, Harry's mind filled with snippets of information about Dumbledore—the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts, renowned as one of the greatest wizards, and famed for his discovery with Nicolas Flamel involving dragon's blood.
But what could such a revered figure be doing here?
Meanwhile, Dumbledore observed Harry's retreating figure, lost in contemplation. With a turn, he resumed his journey toward Privet Drive.
Shortly thereafter, he reached the Dursleys' residence. At that moment, Vernon Dursley, smartly dressed, stood outside the garage adjacent to the mansion, preparing to depart in his cherished red car.
Clearly, he too had spotted Dumbledore, promptly lowering his head with an air of disgruntlement.
For Vernon, encountering "that kind of person" so early in the morning boded ill for the day ahead.
Fortunately for him, Dumbledore's destination lay elsewhere.
Continuing a couple of houses down, Dumbledore halted at Number 6, Privet Drive.
Across the street, Number 13, Privet Drive loomed, its address etched on an envelope!
Simultaneously, a well-dressed gentleman emerged from the house, also taking note of Dumbledore's presence.
A moment seemed to stretch into eternity as the two men's minds raced, exhibiting a flurry of activity and restlessness seldom seen.
Vernon ignited the engine of his car, its round headlights casting an eerie glow in the drizzle. With a swish, the car passed by the two figures.
Wheels spun, water splashed.
A droplet hung in the air, capturing the intertwined silhouettes of the two men—
In an instant, blades imbued with unparalleled power surged toward Dumbledore from Felix's direction.
Their speed akin to lightning.
Yet Dumbledore stood unmoving, the space beside him contorting as if by magic, deflecting the blades with no visible effort, leaving them to slice through the air in a twisted trajectory behind him.
Houses shattered, the ground trembled, and a deafening explosion reverberated through Little Whinging like thunder in broad daylight.
The wand materialized in Felix's hand as he tapped it twice against the ground.
Instantly, waves surged forth from beneath him, rippling outward like a tsunami.
Dumbledore's arm slackened, and the Elder Wand slipped into his grasp. With a subtle wave, an inferno erupted from within him, coalescing into the form of a majestic phoenix.
The clamor of clashes persisted as the tsunami swept past.
The rapid onslaught of waves clashed with the fiery phoenix, neither yielding an inch!
Yet, amidst this showdown, they remained on Privet Drive's streets, seemingly submerged in an abyssal sea, locked in an indescribable duel.
Then, a yellow blur materialized in Dumbledore's hand. Despite the raging waves, it soared unimpeded toward Felix.
Felix raised an intrigued eyebrow, anticipating the impending attack...
Only to witness the blur gradually decelerating as it approached him.
Until at last, it transformed into a letter, landing before Felix.
He raised his hand, the water receding into his arm, delicately examining the envelope. After a moment, disappointment crept over him—
Snap.
The droplet mirrored their encounter, bursting like fireworks.
Vernon steered his little red car into the distance.
"After reigning supreme for so long, have you lost the most basic respect for the world?" Felix regarded Dumbledore with a wry smile.
Dumbledore offered a conciliatory nod, "I apologize sincerely. I hope you can forgive an old man for his faltering grasp on his own thoughts."
"Haha, I doubt your lack of control. Moreover, freely delving into others' minds isn't quite the behavior expected from the century's greatest wizard," Felix scoffed.
In that moment, Dumbledore had indeed attempted Legilimency.
Though his mind wasn't defenseless; even under mental duress, Felix resisted Dumbledore's intrusion.
Dumbledore shook his head, "It was merely a misunderstanding. You see, I merely harbor concern for that child."
"Had he heard such sentiments in his first ten years, he'd have been elated," Felix retorted with disdain.
At this, Dumbledore's countenance darkened, "In this world, many things remain inherently conflicting and irreconcilable. Were it not for the Dursleys, nobody could shield him."
"Not even Hogwarts?" Felix queried, surprised, before clarifying, "Of course, I don't imply such obligation lies with you. I'm merely curious—could Voldemort truly possess such formidable prowess?"
Dumbledore nodded pensively, "During Voldemort's schooling, he operated covertly, executing numerous deeds unbeknownst to me. He was cunning and remorseless. Even under Hogwarts' roof and my safeguarding, this child remains imperiled."
He then directed a solemn gaze at Felix, "Thank you. Few share your skepticism toward me, not in terms of magic, but of my own character."
"I extend that skepticism to all whom the world hails as 'great,' for they're afforded no room for error," Felix remarked casually.
"Indeed, but who among us truly comprehends octogenarians like ourselves," Dumbledore sighed in agreement.
Felix regarded Dumbledore icily, "Yet do not feign concern for him. If you truly cared, you wouldn't be facing me now!!"
He seethed at Dumbledore with those final words, "your are nothing more than an control freak incompetent senile old man with one foot in the grave , and i can even continue this tirade until tonight."