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Cornelius Fudge came and left Hogwarts in a hurry, full of himself.
Aiden didn't want any more attention. He just cast a Disillusionment Charm and went to the Room of Requirement to practice magic. It was a good escape.
When Aiden finally came out, it was late evening. Cold moonlight shone on the castle's smooth floors.
Aiden wandered around. He looked at the stained-glass windows, their colors glowing in the moonlight. Sometimes he tapped the suits of armor in the halls.
The portraits were all asleep. Hogwarts was silent.
Then Aiden realized he hadn't eaten dinner. His stomach growled. Midnight snack time.
He used the Disillusionment Charm again and went to the basement. He found the fruit bowl painting, tickled the pear, and a door opened.
He stepped into the warm, busy Hogwarts kitchens. Even late, house-elves were working, polishing pots and getting food ready for tomorrow.
One elf stood out. He wore a scarf Aiden had given him. It was Coco, the elf who took care of Aiden in Godric's Hollow.
"Coco," Aiden said softly, smiling as his charm faded. He waved.
"Oh, Mr. Prewett!" Coco squeaked, his big eyes wide with delight. He stopped polishing a platter and hurried over, ears flapping.
"Coco, how have you been?" Aiden asked, crouching a bit.
"Oh, Coco is very well, sir! Thanks to Mr. Prewett, Coco serves young wizards here every day! These days are wonderful!" Coco said proudly.
"That's good, Coco," Aiden said warmly. "Need anything? I can bring it next time I go to Hogsmeade."
"Mr. Prewett wants to give Coco a gift?" Coco's eyes shone. "Mr. Prewett is so kind! Coco is very happy! Coco likes anything Mr. Prewett gives!" He bounced excitedly.
Aiden chuckled. "Okay, Coco. By the way, can you get me something to eat? I missed dinner."
"Bad Coco!" the elf cried, looking upset. "Coco didn't see Mr. Prewett was hungry! Coco must punish himself!" He started tapping his head.
"Stop, Coco!" Aiden gently caught his hand. "Don't hurt yourself. You can't make food for me then, right?"
Coco stopped, ears drooping. Then he nodded hard and rushed off to make food.
Soon, a huge feast appeared on a kitchen table: roast chicken, steaming stew, fresh vegetables, breads, and desserts. Way more than a snack.
"Oh my, what a meal! Is there some for an old man too?"
A tired, familiar voice came from the door. It was Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling, but he looked tired.
"Professor," Aiden joked, "it's not good for old men to eat so much greasy food late at night."
"Well, maybe," Dumbledore smiled, taking a stool. "But when you're my age, Aiden, you learn everything's a gift. Nothing is truly bad." His eyes held old wisdom.
"Including Minister Fudge, who hates you?" Aiden raised an eyebrow, eating chicken.
"Yes, including him," Dumbledore said. "He proves I'm still useful. Annoying people isn't a bad way to spend your time, is it?" He winked.
Aiden was starving and dug into the food. After eating a bit, he asked, "So, Professor, why did our glorious minister really come to Hogwarts today?"
"Why, to nominate our 'future'—you, my boy—for the Order of Merlin, Second Class," Dumbledore smiled.
"You know that's not what I mean," Aiden said, rolling his eyes. "A nomination doesn't need a whole ministry parade."
"To you, Aiden, they just came to nominate," Dumbledore said, eating. "And remember, the Wizengamot awards the Order of Merlin now, not just the Ministry."
"So, the ministry only nominates? And they made such a big show for just that?" Aiden was surprised.
"You have to understand them, Aiden," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "This is power to them. Power needs to be shown to be real. If the ministry doesn't show its power, it gets forgotten. And forgotten means out of the game."
"Is it that dramatic, Professor? Don't they have Aurors?" Aiden was puzzled.
"It's more than that, Aiden," Dumbledore said, his eyes distant. "In our world, brute force can't rule everything for long."
He continued softly, "Violence isn't the base of a wizard government. Rule by force gets beaten by prophecy. Wizards need freedom. Tyranny makes them rebel. This causes waves in our collective mind, which then forms a prophecy that breaks the ruler."
"Then, Professor," Aiden asked, "if wizards are so powerful, why are they hiding from Muggles?"
"Numbers, my boy," Dumbledore sighed. "Grindelwald said: 'Magic is a miracle for a few.' It's true. Wizards are always a minority. We can't control the Muggles' collective will. Prophecy, our great power, is like a harmless rabbit against them."
Aiden felt like he almost understood something big but couldn't quite grasp it.
"So, wizards can't rule by force. What do they need then?"
"Recognition, Aiden," Dumbledore explained. "Real acceptance from other wizards. That lets the ministry work smoothly. Without it, they face huge problems. Understand now why Fudge needs to show off his authority?"
"He wants recognition," Aiden said thoughtfully. "And obeying authority is a kind of recognition."
"Good. Now, you asked me a lot. Let me ask you, Aiden. How do you see power?"
Aiden paused, then rolled his eyes. "Power? I prefer to watch it sitting down, with snacks." He ate more chicken. "Why chase power? It's not pretty. And you just explained how wizard power really works. Isn't anyone trying to grab power just a clown in a circus? Whoever has no shame and makes the crowd laugh loudest gets the most 'money'—power."
"Haha, a clown?" Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, it looks like that sometimes." He remembered Fudge that afternoon and smiled.
Then he got serious. "Aiden, you're very gifted. I wonder if I should influence you at all. I used to chase power," Dumbledore confessed, his voice low. "I thought I was doing good, creating beauty. But it led to disaster."
He sipped his tea, his hand shaking a bit. "So now, I'm afraid, Aiden. Afraid of talented people going for power. Power is poison. It corrupts everyone who touches it. I'm still afraid of it. That's why I stay at Hogwarts. I worry I might not resist power again and become someone I don't recognize."
Aiden listened quietly. He saw the old Headmaster's deep sadness.
"No, Professor," Aiden murmured softly. "No… or maybe… there's no need for that fear. Not anymore." He wasn't sure what he meant, but it felt true.
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