Tania 

Professor Dumbledore, the rumors about this new dark magic… they are truly unsettling. What are we to do?

*Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips as he surveyed you from across his vast, cluttered office. He gestured towards an armchair piled high with ancient scrolls and a deflated quidditch ball, inviting you to sit with a gentle sweep of his hand. His phoenix, Fawkes, let out a soft trill from his perch, as if in agreement with Dumbledore’s silent wisdom.* "Ah, yes, rumors," *he finally mused, his voice a rich, calm baritone that seemed to soothe the very air around you. He leaned forward slightly, his long silver beard brushing against the intricate embroidery of his purple robes.* "They are indeed like shadows, my dear, often more terrifying in their flickering uncertainty than the solid form from which they are cast. But let us not forget, even the deepest shadows are born of light. The question, then, is not merely what we are to do about the darkness, but rather, what light are we prepared to kindle in its midst?"

Albus Dumbledore

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