The silence of the night enveloped Albus Dumbledore's study like a soft velvet blanket, drowning out all the sounds of Hogwarts. Only the occasional crackle of the fire in the fireplace cast dancing reflections on the walls, which were hung with tapestries depicting ancient battles and mythical creatures. Instead of the hum of the day and bright light, the study was plunged into a semi-darkness that seemed to enliven every detail, endowing it with new, mysterious hues.
The high arched window, which had let in the sunlight during the day, now framed the pale, silvery light of the moon. This ghostly light, penetrating through the stained glass, colored the floor and bookshelves in bizarre patterns, making it seem as if the shadows on the walls were whispering among themselves, telling the secrets of bygone days. The dusty spines of the books that lined the ceiling seemed not just rows of folios, but silent guardians of ancient knowledge. The gold embossing on their bindings gleamed faintly, catching the occasional glimmer of moonlight.
Along the walls, on shelves, stood numerous figurines and statuettes.
The portraits of the former Headmasters of Hogwarts, usually so animated and talkative during the day, had now fallen into a semblance of sleep. Their faces seemed to have faded, and their gazes became pensive and detached. Only occasionally, at the occasional fall of a moonbeam, did a faint gleam flash in their eyes, like a memory of a past life.
On his perch, next to the fireplace, Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, was dozing. His golden feathers shimmered softly in the dim light, and his body twitched slightly in his sleep.
In that silence, one could hear not only the ticking of the clock and the crackling of the logs in the fireplace, but something more - the breath of the magic itself that enveloped every thing in this marvelous place.
Suddenly, the silence of the study was broken by a quiet knock on the door. Dumbledore, setting aside his book, invited the entrant in with a gesture of his hand. Professor McGonagall entered the office with a slightly displeased expression on her face. Her stern look always suggested that something unpleasant had happened.
"Albus, I'm afraid I have some bad news," she began, pressing her lips into a thin line.
"I've just caught four intruders hanging around the castle at night. And, as is often the case, it's the Gryffindors again; Potter, Granger, and Weasley. And, most disappointing of all, the Uchiha from Slytherin, which completely threw me off. I never thought he could be involved in something like that."
Dumbledore listened to her carefully without interrupting. His eyes behind the panes of his glasses scrutinized her every word.
"Of course, I took fifty points from each of them," McGonagall continued, clenching her fists.
"But that didn't seem enough to me. For such an offense, I've decided to send them to the Forbidden Forest. Hopefully this will teach them not to break the rules." Her voice sounded disappointed and slightly depressed.
"Honestly, Albus, I'm disappointed in Uchiha and Granger. I always thought they were more responsible and reasonable. I couldn't expect them to break the rules like this. It seems they aren't as good as I thought they were. This has made me very sad." McGonagall finished her story, looking at Dumbledore as if expecting some sort of advice from him.
Dumbledore, as if getting to the heart of the matter, nodded faintly as he listened to McGonagall. He wasn't too surprised that Potter, Granger, and Weasley had been caught breaking the rules again. He had been watching their rambunctious activities for a long time. Too often he'd seen them hanging around the corridors late at night, either running from Filch or peering behind Einaledge's forbidden mirror. He understood perfectly well their desire for adventure, their thirst to learn the secrets of Hogwarts. But he understandably let them get away with it, hoping that their youthful fervor and thirst for discovery would eventually subside.
However, the fact that the Uchiha, a Slytherin, was involved made him think twice. Dumbledore had all but forgotten about the boy, and was absorbed in his own concerns: the defense of the Philosopher's Stone, and, just as importantly, the mission to set Harry Potter on the right path.
Dumbledore, smiling softly, looked at McGonagall, trying to reassure her.
"Minerva, dear," he said, his voice sounding calm and comforting.
"I guess the kids are just too excited lately. Mystery, adventure, mystery... it all beckons them to go on night hikes. You shouldn't judge them too harshly for that youthful thirst for adventure, it's part of their age. And I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about it until they outgrow that age." He paused briefly, as if giving her time to comprehend his words.
After Professor McGonagall left, Dumbledore sighed and plunged back into studying the scrolls spread out on the table. He scrutinized each line, reading through the ancient texts that held the answers to many of his questions, but at the same time, brought even more mysteries.
Soon, barely able to truly immerse himself in his work, Dumbledore heard the quiet knock on the door again. He sighed again, but with a touch of fatigue, and leaning back in his chair, said
"Come in." The door opened slowly, and Hagrid entered the office, shuffling from foot to foot a little embarrassed. His large figure seemed to fill the doorway, and his thick beard covered most of his face.
"Albus," he muttered in his low voice, with slight concern.
"There's something I need to tell you..." Hagrid hesitated, as if unsure of how to begin, and Dumbledore, setting aside his papers, gestured for him to come closer. His eyes, behind the glasses, looked at Hagrid with unfailing attention and kindness. Dumbledore knew that if Hagrid had come to see him, something really important had happened.
Hagrid crossed the threshold of the study and stepped closer to Dumbledore's desk, his large hands clumsily rubbing the edge of his fur jacket. "Albus," he began again, this time his voice sounding more strained.
"I've been told here that some boys have been sent to me as punishment... you know, the ones who were hanging around the castle at night..." He paused, as if waiting for Dumbledore's reaction. His large eyes read worry and bewilderment.
Dumbledore was already aware of all the events, so Hagrid's words came as no surprise to him. As soon as Hagrid finished his somewhat confused speech, Dumbledore, remaining calm and friendly, said.
"Yes, Hagrid, I am already aware of that. Professor McGonagall has just been to see me."
Hagrid had calmed down a bit after hearing Dumbledore's words, but his anxiety had not completely disappeared. His eyebrows were still furrowed and his gaze was tense.
"But, Albus," he spoke again, his voice sounding more anxious already. "That's what happened there... When I got there, Harry... well, Harry Potter... He said he was attacked by some sort of creature! Some dark shadow... It attacked him, and then suddenly... suddenly there was an Uchiha and... and a centaur named Florenz!" Hagrid spoke confusedly, as if trying to piece together the details of what had happened.
He was silent for a second, gathering his thoughts, and then continued.
"Florenz said... he said that this creature could be... someone who can't be named! Or rather, what's left of it. He said that such things happen and that... that you shouldn't expect good from it." Hagrid fell silent again, looking at Dumbledore with a mixture of fear and distrust.
"And another thing... Florenz said that when he found Harry with this unknown... and with the Uchiha... he saw in the Uchiha's eyes... bloodshot eyes, Albus! And there were some three patterns! I don't know what it means, and I've never seen anything like it. Florenz was very frightened by it..." His voice trailed off, and he looked helplessly at Dumbledore, waiting for his reaction. Hagrid was clearly shaken by what had happened, and his words sounded as if he himself didn't fully understand what he was hearing.
Hagrid's words, especially the mention of the bloodshot eyes with the three patterns, made a strong impression on Dumbledore. His gaze became serious and his lips pressed tightly together. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His face expressed deep concern. He had long suspected who might be behind the attempts to obtain the Philosopher's Stone, and this news only reinforced his suspicions. An ordinary wizard would not have been able to sneak into Gringotts Bank and get out without leaving a trace. That meant that someone very powerful and cunning was behind it, and those two qualities tended to point to one particular person.
And the centaurs... Dumbledore trusted them unconditionally. They were among the best predictors of the future, their knowledge was deep and wise, and their intuition was always correct. If Florenz, the centaur whose opinion was very important, said it could be Voldemort, Dumbledore didn't doubt it. He knew that centaurs were never wrong, especially when it came to such serious matters. This meant that his worst fears were confirmed. Voldemort's return was more real than he would have liked.
Hagrid's words about bloodshot eyes and the mention of the Uchiha made Dumbledore think again. It was the second time he had heard that name this day, and now the name didn't seem so insignificant to him. He leaned back in his chair and, closing his eyes, tried to remember everything he knew about this mysterious boy.
The first thing that popped into his mind was the day of distribution. The Allocating Hat, usually quick in her decisions, had seemed to freeze then. It had hesitated for a long time before assigning the Uchiha to Slytherin. This fact had caused Dumbledore a slight unease even then. Normally a hat would immediately identify a faculty. But here it remained silent for a long time, as if it couldn't choose. What could it mean?
Then he began to remember the professors' admiring comments about the Uchiha. Almost every one of them, even if reluctantly, had spoken of him with respect, noting his extraordinary ability and talent. Professor Flitwick spoke enthusiastically of his spells, Professor McGonagall did not hide her amazement at his success in transfiguration, and even Snape, whose heart was icy and whose words were usually full of sarcasm, noted his incredible success in Potions, though he suspected that it was all too perfect and there was a catch. Dumbledore remembered Snape's grim face when he had muttered something about understanding too easily and being unusually cold-blooded. Snape had obviously suspected something, but he hadn't said exactly what it was.
The incident with the troll also came to Dumbledore's mind. It was when the troll had broken into the dungeon and the young Uchiha had, unexpectedly, dealt with it with a complex spell that not every adult wizard would have known about. He remembered that even he had been surprised at such skill by such a young wizard. At the time, he had assumed that the boy was just extraordinarily talented and hadn't given it much thought.
Now, however, after McGonagall's words about the night's disturbance and Hagrid's words about the bloodshot eyes, Dumbledore began to think that perhaps he had made a mistake in underestimating the Uchiha. Perhaps this boy is not just talented, but possesses something more, perhaps even dangerous. Perhaps all of these events were connected, and he should reconsider his attitude towards him. The red eyes, the mention of Voldemort, and the nightly disturbance were already too many coincidences. Dumbledore realized that he needed to find out more about this mysterious boy and reconsider his attitude towards him before it was too late.
Dumbledore furrowed his eyebrows, pondering Hagrid's words. He looked at him thoughtfully, some worry appearing in his eyes. "Hagrid," he began, his voice sounding more serious than usual.
"I am grateful to you for telling me about this. It is very important information. Please continue to watch Harry and the others. Be careful not to get involved in anything dangerous, and report everything to me immediately at the first opportunity. Now I must consider everything you've told me and take appropriate action." He nodded to Hagrid as if ending the conversation and, immersed in his thoughts, stared at his scrolls again, his mind already working at full speed, calculating every possible move against the impending danger.
Dumbledore, immersed in his thoughts, let his thoughts roam freely, but the center of his attention remained on the Uchiha. He realized that he needed to gather as much information about this mysterious boy as he could to figure out what power or secret he was hiding. The first thing he decided to do was research his background. He reached for one of the old scrolls that held information on all the students at Hogwarts and began searching for data on the Uchiha.
He soon found the right entry and read it with great attention. According to the records, Uchiha came from an ordinary muggle family. He was a mudblood, which was highly unusual for a pureblood wizard, especially a Slytherin.