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"Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore," Arthur and Molly Weasley greeted as the tall, slender wizard stepped out of the fireplace. Dumbledore's long white hair and beard spoke of his age and wisdom, while his deep, bright eyes seemed to hold secrets beyond imagination. His black robe, embroidered with stars and moons, lent him an air of mystery and solemnity.
"It seems Aiden has been doing well these past few days," Dumbledore observed kindly.
Yes, Professor. We're raising him as if he were our own," Molly replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
"I'm sorry to bring up painful memories, Molly, but to be brief, I'm here today to give you the Gringotts key to the Prewett family vault. This child is the last of the Prewett line, and these assets rightfully belong to him. Perhaps they'll help make things a little easier for your family."
Dumbledore produced a small, ornate key and handed it to Molly, giving her a gentle, knowing wink.
Aiden listened quietly from his crib, using the power of the Audience to observe Dumbledore's every move. The old wizard radiated powerful magic, and Aiden's own spirituality sent him a warning. Dumbledore's mastery of Occlumency was flawless—every thought and intention perfectly concealed, leaving Aiden unable to glean anything further.
What an incredible presence, Aiden thought. This must be the power of a demigod at least. I hope he doesn't notice me watching.
After a few tense moments, it seemed Dumbledore hadn't noticed anything amiss, and Aiden's heart gradually settled.
"No, Professor, I'll make sure this money is kept for Aiden," Molly said firmly.
"Yes, Professor. Our Weasley family may not be wealthy, but we would never covet this child's inheritance. He will grow up alongside our own children," Arthur added, his voice sincere.
Dumbledore smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Perhaps I was worrying too much. The Wizengamot still has meetings to attend, and there are many matters awaiting me at Hogwarts. I'll take my leave for now." He paused, then added, "One more thing—this child seems to possess some innate power. I hope you'll nurture it well."
As he finished speaking, a phoenix soared in through the window. With a flash of flame, Dumbledore vanished.
Aiden was left stunned. Had he been discovered? Was this the legendary wizard everyone revered? He stared at the spot where Dumbledore had disappeared, his heart filled with longing for the future and a renewed determination to grow stronger.
Arthur, still standing nearby, looked at Aiden thoughtfully after Dumbledore's words. "Do you think there's anything special about this child, Molly?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe the Prewett family left some sort of legacy. I'll have to check our books," Molly replied as she headed up the stairs.
Aiden could only roll his eyes inwardly. How could anyone see talent just by looking? Arthur was a bit off the mark.
A baby's body is delicate, and even as an Audience, Aiden's path didn't offer much physical advantage in the early stages. His body was no stronger than any other child's, so he could only wait patiently as time passed.
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Time flowed like water, and in the blink of an eye, six years had gone by.
At six years old, Aiden's hair was black and fluffy, as soft and smooth as a crow's wing. His eyes were deep and bright, shining with intelligence and curiosity. His skin was slightly pale, hinting at a natural magical aura. He always wore an innocent smile that made people want to pinch his cheeks. His features were delicate and charming, with a small upturned nose and lips as red as cherries. He wore a black wizard's robe, its corners embroidered with patches that fluttered as he moved, almost as if they were alive.
When Aiden used his Audience ability, he could perfectly control the emotions in his heart and the expressions on his face. In those moments, his eyes radiated determination and confidence, as if he held the world's most powerful magic. Under the influence of the wizarding family, this charming six-year-old was gradually revealing his unique potential.
One afternoon, Aiden was engrossed in "One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi." Outside, George's and Fred's shouts echoed as they played. Ron and Ginny sat on the sofa, locked in a chess match, while Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen.
"Aha! I win again!" Ron's proud voice rang out.
"Hmph, I'm not playing with you anymore," Ginny huffed, storming off to her room after another defeat. Aiden glanced at the siblings and smiled inwardly at the Weasley family's daily drama.
With Ginny gone, Ron reluctantly packed up the chessboard, but he wasn't ready to give up on having a playmate. He looked over at Aiden, but Aiden, ever the Audience, could see through Ron's intentions just by the look on his face.
"Aiden, stop reading and play chess. You've had your nose in that book for three months," Ron complained.
"Dear Ronny," Aiden replied with a gentle smile, "if you let our lovely little sister win sometimes, you wouldn't be left with no one to play with."
"And besides, this book is by Phyllida Spore. It's a vital reference for Hogwarts students learning to identify magical herbs. You'll have to study it sooner or later. If you start school knowing nothing about magic, you'll only give the Muggle-borns something to laugh about."
"But we still have five years before we go to Hogwarts! Why bother reading all this now? If people want to laugh, let them. Who cares? I'd much rather play chess than sit around reading all day," Ron grumbled, pulling a face and revealing his typical poor-student attitude.
Aiden just smiled and said nothing.
Suddenly, a wave of spiritual energy surged through him. His body, which had felt full, now seemed to have digested something, and he felt ready to eat again. He recognized this as the sign that the Audience potion's effects had finally been fully absorbed.
Aiden's roleplaying as an Audience had begun not long after he was born. It had taken six years for the potion's spirituality to fully merge with his wizard's magic. Living in Ottery St. Catchpole, a village where wizards and Muggles coexisted, gave Aiden plenty of opportunities to observe the lives of Muggle families as an outsider. Bit by bit, he accumulated progress in his act, and today, after six years, he had finally completed it.
During these years, ever since he'd learned to read and write, Aiden had been obsessed with exploring every magical book he could find. The Weasley family's library was vast, and in the electronics-free world of the 1990s, it was the perfect source of entertainment.
After so many years as an ordinary person in his previous life, Aiden's curiosity was impossible to suppress in this extraordinary family. He eagerly sought out every interesting book in the house. For Aiden's sake, the Weasley couple had even organized the library and locked away the books on the Dark Arts, much to Aiden's regret.
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