"I think this will teach them a lesson they won't forget," Professor McGonagall said as she read the reply Dumbledore's quill had written.
"That is exactly the point," Dumbledore nodded, making no attempt to deny it.
"So the boy-Harry-is staying there?" McGonagall asked.
"If he doesn't, he must return to the Dursleys. I suspect Mr. Potter will not wish to go back once he has left," Dumbledore said calmly. "Of course, that is only my judgment. It may not reflect Mr. Potter's own thoughts, so I will visit and ask him personally."
"It seems this Mr. Morin is quite important," McGonagall said. "You haven't left your office this often for a single individual in a very long time, Albus."
"I cannot tell you yet," Dumbledore replied. "I can only say that this is a revolution, Minerva. I do not yet know what kind of revolution it is, nor what consequences it will bring."
He lowered his head, thinking, then looked up again. His blue eyes fixed on her.
"I must understand everything. If matters proceed smoothly and follow the ideal path, you will see for yourself-when Mr. Morin, our new professor, begins teaching at Hogwarts."
"You always make the correct choices."
"No. I am not all-knowing, Minerva. I am merely an ordinary wizard, slightly stronger than most." Dumbledore sealed the letter and walked to the window.
He stared outside for a long while.
"There is still much I do not understand."
...
"Wake up!"
"Ah!" Harry jolted awake.
The soft bed. The smooth covers.
It was a sensation Harry had never experienced before-especially considering Morin had conjured it with a casual wave of his hand onto an empty bed frame.
Combined with everything that had happened yesterday, emotional rollercoaster didn't even begin to cover it. Magic. Wizards. Hogwarts. His parents.
Questions kept piling up.
But it was still far better than growing up in a dark cupboard under cold stares and constant insults.
With so much flooding his mind, the moment Harry touched those cloud-like covers, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Until now-
"...?" Still groggy, Harry looked around. His mind lagged behind, convinced this was another dream.
Then he saw Morin standing in the doorway.
Yesterday's memories came rushing back.
So it wasn't a dream?
"It certainly wasn't," Morin said.
"You know what I'm thinking?" Harry froze. "Is that... magic to read memories?"
"If there's a Memory Charm, why wouldn't there be magic to read memories?" Morin smiled lightly. "That said, I didn't use it. Your thoughts are written all over your face."
He paused.
"Anyway, do you remember what I told you yesterday?"
"I remember!" Harry nodded seriously.
"Good. Then we begin training." Morin snapped his fingers. "Warm-ups first. Then running."
"Huh?" Harry stared. "Mr. Morin... Morin, shouldn't I be learning magic?"
"This is part of what I'm teaching you," Morin said evenly. "Underage wizards don't have much magic. Instead of forcing spells, it's better to start with something you can learn and master immediately."
"...Fitness."
"Fitness?" Harry adjusted his glasses, completely confused.
"Since you can't cast many spells anyway, you might as well pick up a stick," Morin laughed. "Alright. We're starting. This training will be hard, Harry. Don't give up."
"I won't!" Harry said without hesitation.
"That's good." Morin tossed him a set of white athletic clothes and turned toward the stairs. "Change and come down. We start immediately."
Harry hurried into the clothes and rushed downstairs.
Then he stopped.
An old man with white hair was sitting there, laughing softly while drinking something fragrant with Morin.
Harry froze, unsure what to do.
"This is Albus Dumbledore," Morin said, "the most powerful wizard of our time, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and your future headmaster."
"G-Good morning, Headmaster!" Harry greeted quickly, heart pounding.
The most powerful wizard.
That sounded incredible.
And Morin could laugh and drink with him like this... that meant Morin must be incredible too.
Then Harry noticed them both smiling.
They could see his thoughts.
This feeling is terrible...
"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said warmly. "It seems you enjoy living here and have no wish to return, is that correct?"
"Yes!" Harry answered without hesitation.
If he had never experienced this, he might have endured it.
But now that he knew there was another way, the thought of going back was unbearable.
"That is wonderful." Dumbledore nodded knowingly.
As a master of Legilimency and wandless magic, Harry's memories and thoughts were plain to him.
In truth, Dumbledore did this whenever he deemed it necessary-so long as he was not discovered.
He had attempted the same during his first meeting with Morin.
Morin had blocked him silently.
"I believe our discussion can wait until after your tasks are complete," Morin said, setting his drink aside. He pointed toward a glass door leaning against the wall. "Open it, Harry. If everything goes well, you'll start building some... solid memories in there."
"When you finish the tasks assigned by the magical golems inside, you can eat."
"O... okay." Harry nodded repeatedly and walked toward the door.
The glass was transparent, but beyond it wasn't a wall.
It was a massive room.
Instinctively, Harry glanced toward a nearby window. He clearly remembered an empty lot behind that wall.
So why was there a room?
Oh. Right. Magic. I'm so stupid...
Carefully, he opened the glass door and stepped inside.
There was no strange sensation. It felt exactly like walking through a normal doorway.
He entered a vast space filled with countless machines he couldn't identify.
Later, he would learn they were called "gym equipment."
"Mr. Potter, today's training consists of warm-ups and running."
The voice behind him made Harry jump.
He turned and saw a silver, metallic humanoid figure.
"You are...?" Harry asked cautiously.
"I am your fitness coach, Mr. Potter," the silver figure said. "I will demonstrate, correct your form, and guide you to maximize your results."
"Please drink this first."
Outside the door.
"Are these Muggle exercise methods?" Dumbledore hesitated as he picked up a bowl of tofu pudding. A thick layer of something resembling sugar crystals covered the surface.
"You need to mix it," Morin said. "It's called Sweet Tofu Pudding."
"Oh. Very direct." Dumbledore stirred it with a spoon and took a bite, then nodded appreciatively. "Is this a common breakfast among Chinese wizards? I quite like it."
"More or less. One of many," Morin replied. "If I prepared all of them, they wouldn't fit in this room. Since you prefer sweets, I made this."
"Thank you. I'm very pleased." Dumbledore smiled, watching Harry through the glass door as he spoke. Harry was already panting on a treadmill. "An impressive Undetectable Extension Charm. I find myself increasingly curious about your origins, Mr. Morin."
"Here, I am only a wandmaker who wants to sell his wands more effectively," Morin said meaningfully.
"No, no. You are also the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts," Dumbledore corrected, shaking his head.
"Hahaha. True." Morin scratched his head. "I almost forgot."
"...You once said you intended to wait before taking Harry away," Dumbledore said carefully, his blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles fixed on Morin. "What changed your mind? From my observations, you are someone who plans carefully-and follows those plans."
"Your observation is accurate," Morin replied. "Yes, I am that type of person. But plans must adapt to circumstances."
He paused.
"I did intend to wait. But after seeing it myself... I couldn't allow it to continue for even one more second under my watch."
"...That was my failure," Dumbledore said quietly. "In trying to protect Mr. Potter from one danger, I overlooked others."
He watched Harry through the glass.
Harry was exhausted.
But he was still running.
"Still, I am glad to see how things are now. Mr. Potter retains the protection of the charm-without the suffering."
"Speaking of which," Morin raised an eyebrow, "when you first arrived, you mentioned the Dursleys sent you a letter. I don't need to know its contents. I can guess."
"What I want to know is this."
"How do you plan to handle it?"
"I've already sent them a reply," Dumbledore said, winking mischievously. "By now, it should have arrived."
...
"The reply is here!"
Early that morning, Petunia-pale and exhausted from a sleepless night-didn't even bother making breakfast.
She rushed to the door.
As expected, a letter lay there.
She snatched it up, glanced around suspiciously like a thief, then hurried back inside. The door was locked and bolted. Curtains drawn. Windows shut.
Only then did she wake Vernon, who slept like a dead pig.
"Snore... huh? What? What letter?" Vernon groaned.
"The reply. From those people. From that place!" Petunia hissed.
"Quick-lock everything. Were you seen?" Vernon's panic mirrored hers.
"It's all closed." Petunia swallowed. "Should we... open it?"
"Keep it away! Keep it away!" Vernon recoiled. "What if it's cursed? Why are you holding it with your hands? Use something-tongs!"
"Right." Petunia dropped the envelope as if it were filth, ran to fetch iron tongs, and carefully pried it open.
"Read it!" Vernon squeezed himself as far away as possible, attempting to hide behind a chair.
Unfortunately, he was large enough to hide two.
Petunia ignored him and began reading.
To the Dursleys:
After receiving your letter, we conducted an investigation regarding Mr. Morin and Mr. Potter. We have determined that the truth is the exact opposite of what you described.
Mr. Morin did not forcibly remove Mr. Potter. Rather, due to your years of abuse (we apologize for the term, but it reflects a grave failure on our part), you chose to treat Mr. Potter in this manner despite receiving generous compensation. This has made us extremely angry.
However, a more suitable punishment has already been determined. We will not interfere with Mr. Morin's legal action against you.
Do not attempt to threaten us by exposing the existence of the wizarding world. Wizards' abilities far exceed your imagination.
P.S. If you wish to seek forgiveness, you should approach the relevant parties, offer a sincere apology, and provide adequate guarantees.
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