The door to Number Four, Privet Drive, creaked open as Harry and Rufus Scrimgeour stepped out into the fading light of the evening. The warm glow of the setting sun bathed the quiet neighborhood in hues of orange and gold. The air was still, a stark contrast to the tension Harry felt as he turned to see none other than Albus Dumbledore standing on the neatly trimmed lawn, his long robes swaying gently in the breeze.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry blurted out, his voice laced with shock.

Rufus, however, didn’t flinch. He had been expecting this. After all, Dumbledore always had a knack for appearing exactly when least wanted. Despite this, Rufus maintained his calm, though beneath the surface, his Occlumency shields were working at full force, every mental barrier fortified to keep the old man from sensing anything amiss.

Dumbledore, with a serene smile on his face, seemed entirely at ease, his blue eyes twinkling as if he were merely admiring the Dursleys’ garden. "Ah, Rufus," he said pleasantly, turning to face the Minister of Magic. "What a lovely surprise. It's been some time since we've had the pleasure of a conversation." His voice carried its usual warmth, but Rufus detected the subtle probing beneath the words, a test for any weakness or inconsistency.

Scrimgeour returned the smile, though it was considerably more restrained. "Not avoiding you, Headmaster," he said smoothly, keeping his tone neutral. "Just... busy, as you can imagine. There’s much to be done."

Dumbledore’s smile widened, but his eyes betrayed nothing. "Of course, of course. You are a man of many responsibilities." He gestured with one hand, his long fingers tracing patterns in the air. "Though I must admit, I had hoped our paths might cross sooner."

Rufus shrugged, though his mind raced. He needed to tread carefully. One misstep, and Dumbledore would undoubtedly notice something was off. "Well, you know how things are in the Ministry. Endless meetings and mountains of paperwork. And now, with certain... trials looming, things are only getting busier."

At the word trials, Harry's head snapped toward Rufus. "Trials?" he asked, his confusion evident. "What trials?"

Rufus ignored Harry for now, his focus solely on Dumbledore. The old man was still smiling, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, a flicker of curiosity, perhaps even concern, at the mention of trials.

"Is it prudent to involve Harry in such matters?" Dumbledore asked, his voice as light as ever, though the question hung in the air with greater weight.

Rufus met his gaze evenly, refusing to be cowed. "I believe it is, Headmaster," he said, his voice firm but calm. "After all, it concerns him. The death of his parents was no small matter, and this trial will decide the fate of those involved. He has every right to be there."

Dumbledore’s eyes flickered momentarily toward Harry, who stood between the two men, looking increasingly lost in the conversation. But before Harry could ask another question, Rufus continued, cutting off any response from the boy or the headmaster.

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"I thought it best to drop him off with the Weasleys for the remainder of the summer," Rufus said, his tone matter-of-fact. "He can spend time with his friends, and when the trial date arrives, he can attend. Both the Weasleys and Harry are involved in this, after all."

Harry blinked, his curiosity only growing as he tried to piece together what was happening. "But what trial? What’s this about?"

Once again, neither Rufus nor Dumbledore answered him directly, and Harry’s frustration grew. He was being left in the dark yet again, a familiar and unwelcome feeling.

Dumbledore’s expression didn’t change, but Rufus noticed the slight shift in his stance, a signal that the old wizard was weighing his options. He had no doubt that Dumbledore was internally surprised by his decision to bring Harry into this so directly, but he hid it well. "I see," Dumbledore said quietly, almost as if to himself. Then, louder, "Do you truly think it wise to have Harry attend these proceedings? He is still quite young, and—"

"Headmaster," Rufus interrupted, his voice firm now, leaving little room for debate. "We are speaking about the deaths of his parents. Surely, you can understand that this isn’t something to be shielded from him. If anything, it’s something he should have the opportunity to witness. I believe Harry has a right to know the truth."

The emphasis on Harry's parents and the notion of truth struck a nerve, and Rufus could feel Harry’s attention zeroing in on the conversation with new intensity. He wanted Harry to be curious—no, determined—to attend. If Dumbledore intended to keep him from the trial, this would make it all the harder.

For a brief moment, silence fell between the three of them. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of a passing car filled the air, but the tension remained thick.

Dumbledore’s eyes gleamed with thoughtfulness. He seemed to be considering every word that Rufus had spoken, weighing the risks and rewards. He gave nothing away, but Rufus could tell that the headmaster was not entirely convinced.

"Of course, if that is your decision as Minister of Magic," Dumbledore said slowly, his voice calm but no longer as light. "Then I am sure you have Harry's best interests at heart."

Harry, finally seeing an opening in the conversation, interjected, his voice tinged with both frustration and curiosity. "But what is this trial about? Why do you want me there?"

Rufus turned to Harry, offering him a small smile. "All in good time, Harry. The details will be explained soon enough." He glanced back at Dumbledore, his gaze steady, before adding, "I can assure you, this isn’t something you’ll want to miss."

Dumbledore, still standing serenely, gave a small nod, though his expression remained neutral. "I see," he said softly. "Well, I do trust that you will take care of him, Rufus."

Rufus gave a curt nod. "Of course."

Dumbledore’s eyes lingered on Harry for a moment longer before turning back to the garden. "The Weasleys will no doubt be delighted to have Harry with them," he said, his tone returning to its usual lightness. "Do take care, Harry," he added, glancing at the boy with a kind smile.

Harry, still feeling the weight of the unanswered questions, nodded slowly. "Thanks, Professor."

"Let’s go, Harry," Rufus said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He gave Dumbledore a final nod before leading Harry away from Privet Drive.

As they walked away from the house, Harry looked up at Rufus, his confusion still apparent. "Why didn’t Professor Dumbledore want me to go to this trial?"

Rufus didn’t answer immediately. His mind was already running through the encounter, assessing and recalculating. "It’s not about what he wants, Harry," Rufus said finally, his tone even. "It’s about what’s right. And you deserve to know the truth about your parents."

Harry frowned but didn’t push further. As they continued walking, Rufus felt a sense of satisfaction. He had managed to avoid Dumbledore’s suspicions for now, but he knew that every future encounter with the old man would only grow more challenging. He had to remain vigilant. One slip, and everything he had worked for could come crashing down.