A wonderful afternoon tea
Harry woke up just as dawn was breaking.
It was still early, and Harry's eyes were still sore, but he couldn't fall asleep, so he got up and took his clothes from last night to the laundry room on the first floor—and also took a change of clothes from Queenie's room.
A night had passed, and the moisture absorbed by the champagne-colored silk nightgown had completely evaporated, leaving only some dry, whitish marks. Harry looked at the wrinkles on the nightgown and felt his face flush. Ugh—and these—he'd scratched them all…
"What are you doing?"
The sudden sound startled Harry; it was Sirius, who had woken up from the noise.
Sirius rubbed his eyes, feeling much more awake. He noticed the thin, disheveled nightgown in Harry's hand. What had happened last night was as self-evident as who this dress belonged to. "Oh—"
“We did nothing—” Harry’s words trailed off, uh… well… well, you could say we did nothing…
“It’s alright.” Sirius was quite open-minded. “What I meant was, well done, Harry, very considerate. And—” he teased, “if your OWLs exam included a silencer charm in Charms, I can’t think of any reason why you wouldn’t get an O.”
"..." That's not what he was actually tested on.
Queenie woke up just in time for brunch.
Sirius saw her radiantly skip downstairs in Harry's T-shirt and denim shorts, winked subtly at his godson again, and then said to Queenie, "That suits you very well."
Queenie grinned, "Of course! I'm about the same height as Harry!"
Harry gulped down his milk for the day; he had to grow taller this summer! Ron could grow two inches in one summer, there was no reason he couldn't!
Sirius took Harry back to the Dursleys' house. He didn't bring much luggage; for him, it was just a place to sleep.
Queenie moved her things into Harry's room, then wandered around the village alone. She had passed by several craft shops yesterday, but hadn't had a chance to go in yet.
Queenie walked to the monument in the center of the village again, stared at it for a long time, but it hadn't changed at all. In the end, she could only say goodbye quietly and leave.
Queenie browsed through all the shops on the main street, changing her denim shorts for a red and white floral French-style skirt. Carrying a shopping bag in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other, she walked along the path, wondering where to go next. Actually, a trip into the valley would have been nice, but she felt it was rather boring.
Before she knew it, Queenie had arrived at the place she had visited yesterday.
She licked the last bite of her ice cream, thinking that the other person seemed nice, and he probably wouldn't mind if she showed up without telling him. He might even welcome her; after all, aren't older people supposed to like having someone to chat with?
The door to the house opened, and Dumbledore's tall, thin figure appeared there. He was still wearing what appeared to be a heavy robe, but today it was a dark green, as if he and she were in a different season.
“Miss Campbell,” he greeted warmly, “would you like to come in and have a seat?”
Dumbledore brought Queenie a cup of rose tea. “I think Harry and Sirius brought you here for your safety. Going out alone might not be a good idea.”
Dumbledore was exceptionally kind to Queenie, perhaps because she was Harry's girlfriend, and she could tell that he liked Harry.
Queenie flashed a sweet smile that all elders adore. "I've come to see you, haven't I? I heard from Harry that you're the greatest wizard of our time, the only one who makes Voldemort fear you."
Dumbledore chuckled, tapping his long, slender fingers on the phone resting on the table. "Oh, it's time. Looks like Bathilda forgot about our meeting. She's getting old; she's always forgetting things." As he spoke, he picked up an oddly shaped wand and waved it. A silver-white phoenix poured from the tip of the wand, circled the roof once, and flew away through the wall.
“You know, not all elderly people are as open to new things as I am. I tried to teach Bathilda how to use a mobile phone, but she just couldn’t learn.”
"It's a message from the guardian deity, isn't it? I've seen Sirius use it."
“Clever lady. But if Nico were still here, he would surely have learned to use a cell phone—though he is the oldest of us—he loves to explore new things.” Dumbledore picked up a ladyfingers, dipped it in raspberry jam, and pushed the jam toward Queenie. “Try it, it’s delicious.”
Queenie ate a cookie, mimicking his actions, and asked in surprise, "Is he older than you and Mrs. Bathilda?"
"Yes, he was born in 1327 and died four years ago."
"Oh my god!" Queenie did the math in her head, "It's longer than three American histories combined!" She thought for a moment and then asked, "Do wizards generally live to be hundreds of years old?"
"Of course not. Wizards also have all sorts of incurable diseases, and magic is a very dangerous thing. Not to mention hundreds of years old, there are many wizards who die in their teens." Dumbledore, as expected of the headmaster, was giving Queenie a basic lesson in magic. "My age is already very rare—Nicole is an even greater exception, an extreme exception—but thanks to potions, wizards are generally more physically robust than Muggles."
Oh, so it's like a role-playing game where wizards have higher starting stats than ordinary humans?
Knock knock knock.
There was a knock on the door.
Dumbledore got up to open the door. "It must be Bathilda. I hope you don't mind if the three of us have afternoon tea together."
Queenie also stood up. "I was the one who came suddenly. I'm the one who should be disturbing you."
Bathilda Baghdad was an elderly but elegant woman. She was not tall and walked slowly. Her wrinkled face had a pair of sharp eyes, and although her eyes were somewhat cloudy due to her age, one could still subconsciously think that she must have been a very stern person when she was young.
Queenie greeted her, and Bathilda nodded slowly, probably assuming she was one of Dumbledore's students.
She was indeed very old, and her reactions and speech were much slower than Dumbledore's.
“I haven’t seen it in many years.” Bathilda reached out and stroked Dumbledore’s wand. This was the first long sentence Queenie heard her speak.
Dumbledore then summoned Crème Brûlée, which he had brought specially from Hogwarts. "You said the same thing last summer, and in fact, you see it every year."
Bathilda acted as if she hadn't heard her and continued talking to herself, "The legendary Elder Wand... I haven't seen him since that year."
She said "him".
Queenie didn't know who they were talking about, but it was clear that "he" was not Dumbledore.
She chose a less sensitive topic to ask, "The Elder Wand? I didn't know wands had names?"
"Because it is one of the Deathly Hallows," Dumbledore replied.
"The Deathly Hallows?"
"Yes, legend has it that whoever possesses them can become the master of death."
Queenie hadn't read The Tales of Beedle the Bard, so she naturally didn't know the legend of the three brothers. But Dumbledore seemed unwilling to bring it up again, so she didn't press him for details. She only remembered the word "Deathly Hallows" and planned to ask Harry about it later.
But Bathilda didn't let Dumbledore's reluctance to mention it deter her. She snorted, "The Deathly Hallows...you once believed so much that they could help you rule the world."
Queenie, "..." What are we supposed to do with them? What are we supposed to rule?
Queenie was shocked; she never imagined that such a wise old man as Dumbledore had such—well, lovely ideals—in his youth.
Dumbledore smiled wryly and said, "Bashida, we don't want to rule the world."
“Oh, you don’t want to rule the world.” Bathilda’s words were sharp, and her speech quickened. “You just want to establish a new wizarding order and let wizards rule Muggles again.”
After a moment of silence, Bathilda suddenly snapped out of her reverie, as if she had forgotten what had just happened, and her tone became hesitant and sluggish again, "Albus, what was that delicious thing you mentioned yesterday?"
“Caramel pudding,” Dumbledore said gently, “can be eaten even without teeth.”
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