The whole scene fell silent for exactly one second.
"My God! He walked out of the fire! He's a wizard!"
Thomas's voice exploded across the yard like a balloon someone had just stepped on.
"It's Father Christmas! It's just not Christmas yet, so he's not wearing the proper outfit!" George declared with complete certainty, clutching his pot lid as it flashed in the light.
"Look at his beard! It's white and long!"
"I want that bird!" one of the twins yelled, waving a pillow toward Dumbledore. "Can it bring me Christmas presents?"
"Why can't he be the King of Fire?" The children chattered over one another, growing louder and louder like a flock of sparrows on too much sugar and fizzy drink.
"Oh, Lord above."
Mrs. Hawke stood beside the doorframe, one hand braced against it, the other pressed to her chest. Her lips were moving, but no one could make out what she was saying.
Of course the headmistress recognized Dumbledore.
And a scene this unbelievable made Mrs. Hawke realize something else.
The school Iain was meant to attend was probably not some ordinary elite academy.
Some instinct in the back of her mind was telling her as much.
Dumbledore's gaze moved away from the children and settled on Mrs. Hawke. He inclined his head slightly, with the same elegant posture of a gentleman from another century.
Neither of them said a word.
"Headmaster Dumbledore."
Dumbledore turned toward Kingsley. The Auror captain now stood beside the iron fence, his wand already tucked back into his robes, his face full of respect.
"Mr. Shacklebolt."
Dumbledore spoke in a tone as casual as if he were making ordinary conversation.
"I'll handle matters here. You and your people should go calm the Muggles who've been frightened."
There were plenty of alarmed Muggles in the surrounding streets, and that alone was no small amount of work for the Aurors. They needed to make sure those Muggles forgot they had witnessed magical events.
"It's Dumbledore after all..."
The four Aurors dispersed across the street. The cracks of Apparition echoed one after another through the night, like a string of silent fireworks being set off in the darkness.
The area fell quiet again.
The phoenix shifted position on Dumbledore's shoulder, tucked its head beneath one wing, and began dozing, while the children stared in amazement that a bird could actually burst into flames.
Iain stood trapped in the middle of them all, voices coming at him from every direction, each word stabbing straight into his ears. His mind felt like an overloaded server, the fans spinning wildly while the temperature still kept climbing. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but every syllable was drowned out by the next wave of shouting before it could escape.
The old man stood only a few steps away, both hands folded over the top of his staff, simply watching Iain.
Nothing at all could be read from those deep eyes.
Iain felt the skin on his scalp tighten.
He could fool those Aurors.
He could fool every adult and child in the orphanage.
But he knew perfectly well that he could not fool the greatest wizard of the century, Albus Dumbledore.
There was no helping it. After thinking it through, Iain finally chose to squeeze out a weak little smile and call toward Dumbledore.
"Professor."
At that, Iain gave a dry laugh.
"They're just my younger brothers and sisters. My older brothers and sisters too. They're fooling around... I just happen to be a bit more popular around here, that's all."
Thomas stood at the very front, hands clasped together, his eyes shining like two stars. Galen hid behind him, showing only half his head.
Dumbledore looked so gentle he might have been any ordinary old man.
Several children immediately started chattering all at once.
"My name's Thomas, that's Galen, she's Keisha, she's Catherine, and over there are Michael Jordan, and Lois, and Jinx."
"We're all orphans too, but Iain said that when he grows up he's going to become a tycoon, and we can all be his henchmen and follow him around eating and drinking the good stuff."
"Yeah, yeah, Iain's amazing. Back when we were little, the minute he started winning every mud-fight, I knew he was the real deal!"
Iain more or less accepted that he had made a mess of things. After hearing all that, he found Dumbledore still looking at him, those pale blue eyes unnaturally clear in the night.
Iain froze for a moment.
Dumbledore did not.
The old man simply stood there, quietly watching him, as though waiting for Iain to make his own choice.
"Still, Iain... perhaps you ought to tell the people who care about you what exactly happened."
Dumbledore glanced toward the orphanage staff standing some distance away.
Iain followed that look. The adults were all staring over with anxious, uncertain expressions.
"I'll wait for you in your room."
After saying that, Dumbledore did not wait to see how Iain would respond. Instead, he turned to the children and clapped his hands together with a bright, crisp sound.
"Now then, would anyone like to see me pull a dove out of my beard?"
Using the most effective method possible, Dumbledore lured the entire crowd of children into following him back inside the orphanage.
As he passed the still-rattled adults, he even greeted them politely.
"Ah, and I nearly forgot. The dead ought to be laid to rest."
As casually as though he were tending to some tiny unfinished chore, Dumbledore gave his wand another light flick.
"Woooah!"
The children all cried out in amazement.
And as they followed Dumbledore beneath the orphanage sign, the words on the plaque, which had read Wool's Orphanage, somehow became Solow Orphanage once more.
Perhaps it had happened just then.
It was magic accomplished with extraordinary finesse.