Chapter 45. Fawkes's New Friend
Just as Adrian Wesson had anticipated, the little Thunderbird was very fond of the newly arrived lightning-struck tree.
What's more, the little Thunderbird felt no unfamiliarity toward Adrian at all—like a Crup that had already lived with its master for years.
It was Remus Lupin whom the little Thunderbird was still a bit afraid of; whenever Lupin approached, it would bristle and watch him warily.
This left Lupin rather helpless.
It even built a nest on the lightning-struck tree. Whenever it wanted to play, the tree would summon a small thunderstorm, letting it dart to its heart's content through the lightning.
Standing to one side, Adrian watched the little Thunderbird tumbling in the air and couldn't help rubbing his chin.
Although changes in the weather were a good thing for the little Thunderbird, they were not so good for the environment here.
That afternoon, Adrian's plantation was either windy or pouring with thunder.
Fortunately, Adrian's plants and potion ingredients were all grown inside the greenhouses, so they were not affected by this sort of weather.
Having sorted out the little Thunderbird's lodgings, it was now time to think about how to get the Headmaster's permission to show the little Thunderbird to the students.
After all, however you put it, a Thunderbird was a protected species—a Ministry of Magic–certified "XXXXX"-class magical creature.
Even though it was only a juvenile, it certainly carried a degree of danger.
What to do?
...
Early the next morning, in the Headmaster's office.
There was a steaming cup of coffee on the desk, and a plate beside it piled with golden honey nougat.
As usual, Albus Dumbledore was leisurely sorting through the letters sent from around the world.
As a world-renowned figure, he received a great many letters every day, so Dumbledore could only select a limited number to read and reply to.
This was his daily routine.
The rest he would handle in his spare time.
But today, he felt that something was missing from the room.
Dumbledore set down what he was doing, his brow faintly furrowing.
He let his gaze sweep around the spacious office, and it naturally came to rest on the great perch where the phoenix usually roosted.
Strangely, it was empty.
"Fawkes?" he called softly, his eyes moving around the room.
However, whether by the fireplace, on the bookcase, or near the window, there was no sign of the phoenix.
Dumbledore's brow creased slightly as he set down the letter in his hand and rose to his feet.
Fawkes was no ordinary bird; he would not leave of his own accord for long unless there were some special reason.
Dumbledore walked slowly to the window and pushed it open. A cold wind mixed with fine rain struck his face, bringing a touch of chill.
"Fawkes doesn't care for weather like this," he murmured.
Just then, his eyes suddenly caught a flash of scarlet streaking across the distant sky.
Seeing this, a hint of relief appeared on Dumbledore's face.
Fawkes alighted on the windowsill. As Dumbledore helped smooth his feathers, he chatted idly.
"Where have you been, Fawkes?"
"Ah, you went to play with a new friend? You didn't mention that to me."
"Who is your new friend?"
"A big white bird? Oh, I'm glad you've made a new friend. Where is it?"
"What? It's already here!?"
Dumbledore's gaze turned to the outside, and sure enough, amid the fine, misting rain, there was a white silhouette.
"That is…"
As it flew closer, the white bird's outline gradually became distinct.
From the two pairs of wings—one large, one small—Dumbledore recognised its true identity: a Thunderbird.
"You've found yourself quite the remarkable friend," Dumbledore said, a little surprised, glancing at his phoenix.
...
An hour later, Adrian Wesson appeared in Dumbledore's office.
As soon as he came in, Adrian noticed the little Thunderbird standing together with Fawkes.
Dumbledore was seated behind the desk, carefully reading his letters.
The little Thunderbird let out a soft call to Adrian—something like a greeting.
"Fawkes has generously shared his perch with his new friend," Dumbledore looked up with a smile when he noticed Adrian's arrival. "Please, have a seat, Professor Wesson. I think you can answer a few of my questions."
"All right, Professor."
Adrian obediently sat down opposite Dumbledore. A freshly brewed cup of coffee drifted over from the side and settled in front of him.
Dumbledore slowly set down the letter in his hand and gave the juvenile Thunderbird a gentle once-over.
"This must be your bird, mustn't it?" he asked softly, turning his gaze to Adrian. "What is it called?"
"Well," Adrian pondered for a moment and then said, "it hasn't formally been given a name yet."
Dumbledore nodded, seeming slightly surprised, and offered a sincere reminder: "You'd best decide on its name as soon as possible. For powerful magical creatures, a name is very important. It treats the name as a bond—if it accepts that name, it will be willing to form a deeper connection with you."
"Are names really that important, Professor?" Adrian asked, noting Dumbledore's seriousness.
"A name is, in itself, a kind of magic," Dumbledore explained, adjusting his half-moon spectacles. "Just like with wizards—for example, the one whose name must not be spoken."
At that, Adrian suddenly realised that Lord Voldemort's name seemed to have been subjected to certain magic—once someone spoke it outright, he could sense it.
That was also why everyone called him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Moreover, Roskin hadn't told Adrian the little Thunderbird's name, very likely because she wanted Adrian to name it himself.
"I understand, Professor," Adrian nodded and said, "I'll think carefully about the little Thunderbird's name."
With that, Adrian glanced at the little Thunderbird beside Fawkes.
"All right then, Adrian," Dumbledore clapped his hands and went on, "let's set the matter of the name aside for now. What I'd like to know more is where you brought this Thunderbird from. You know Thunderbirds aren't common in Europe."
"In fact, Thunderbirds aren't common anywhere."
Adrian beckoned to the little Thunderbird as he spoke. It bounced to his side at once and nuzzled his arm.
"A friend of mine has recently made certain breakthroughs in breeding Thunderbirds," Adrian continued by way of explanation. "And then—well, as you can see."
Dumbledore thought for a moment, and then something seemed to occur to him.
"The Possibility of Artificially Breeding Thunderbirds?" he said. "I think that was the title—your old paper."
"You've actually read it," Adrian replied in surprise, nodding. "I'm honoured."
"The most important thing for a wizard is to keep learning," Dumbledore stood and gave Adrian a little wink. "Isn't that what you once told me?"
"Ah—yes." Adrian scratched his head, embarrassed; he had said that to Dumbledore when he graduated.
Thinking about it now, the line felt a bit mortifying.
After all, the person he'd said it to was Albus Dumbledore.
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