“Good evening, Lorin!”
Albus Dumbledore wore a wizard’s robe of deep blue and light purple, strolling leisurely through the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
*Oh, what a dreadful color combination.*
Lorin silently critiqued Dumbledore’s fashion sense but waved his hand anyway, letting the young wizards return to their own business.
“Haven’t had dinner yet, Albus?”
“Indeed.
Please forgive an old man for forgetting his dinnertime…”
Seeing the hint of exhaustion beneath Dumbledore’s eyes, Lorin felt a trace of doubt.
“Albus, you’re still young.”
“Ha ha, I’m old, Lorin.”
Dumbledore walked toward the staff table and conjured a bottle of richly aromatic red wine out of thin air.
“Care for a drink, Lorin?”
“Alright, Albus.”
Lorin shrugged helplessly and sat back down at the staff table.
“I hear some of the young wizards are hoping you will start a dueling class, Lorin?”
“That’s true, but I refused.” Lorin shook his head with a smile, declining the task.
“Actually, it is a good thing, isn’t it?” Dumbledore stroked his beard, his bright blue eyes scanning Lorin from behind his half-moon spectacles.
Unfortunately for him, Lorin’s mastery of Occlumency was already peerless; even the Imperius Curse could not control him, let alone Legilimency.
“It is indeed a good thing, but I only draw a caretaker’s salary.” Lorin spread his hands, still unwilling to take on the extra work.
“Is Mr.
Lorin really so short of a few dozen Gold Galleons a month?”
“We must still respect the labor laws of the British wizarding world, Albus.”
Lorin winked, causing Dumbledore to pause mid-sip, nearly choking on his wine.
Since Tom left, how long had it been since a young wizard had spoken to him like this?
“In all seriousness, Lorin.” Dumbledore stopped trading barbs and extended an invitation to Lorin in a more formal tone.
“On behalf of Hogwarts, I truly hope you can offer an elective course.”
“On wizarding dueling?”
“Of course.”
“We’ll see after Christmas.
The kids have to take a liking to me first, don’t they?” Lorin reached out helplessly and made a light slash with his wand.
*Sectumsempra.*
A deep wound instantly appeared across Lorin’s palm, yet bizarrely, not a single drop of blood flowed.
Only after a dozen seconds did a few drops of dark red blood finally seep from the cut, dripping onto the Great Hall floor.
“Do you see, Albus?” Lorin waved his wand again, causing the wound to knit back together while simultaneously vanishing the blood stains from the floor.
“My current state of blood deficiency really isn’t suited for dueling.”
Blood deficiency—not life expectancy deficiency.
“Mhm…
very well, Mr.
Lorin.
Shall we revisit this after Christmas?”
“If my health recovers by then, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Haha, it seems wizards from Beauxbatons always leave themselves some wiggle room.” Dumbledore clinked his glass against Lorin’s, closing his eyes to savor the wine.
It has a very Alpine character…”
“Yes, it really is a nostalgic place.
When you miss someone, taking a walk in the snowy mountains always brings a unique perspective.”
“Though, I detect a hint of Habsburg style.
This must be an Austrian vintage, yes?”
Lorin nodded, and Dumbledore fell momentarily into a daze.
Austria…
Nurmengard…
Shaking his head, Dumbledore smiled and stroked his beard, mocking himself slightly.
“I am getting old.
My mind wanders so easily now.”
“It’s quite alright, Albus.
Coincidentally, my mind was wandering just now as well.” Lorin smiled and poured himself another glass.
“Now then, enough of that.
Let us speak of something more intriguing.” Dumbledore tapped his goblet with his wand, instantly refilling it to the brim with the enticing red wine.
“Lorin, where do you think is the best place to hide something if you wished to keep it secure?”
Lorin seemed to fall into deep thought, pondering for a moment before slowly speaking.
“Albus, as far as I know, anything intended to be hidden can eventually be found.”
“Just like how young wizards try to hide their failing report cards, only for their parents to inevitably find them and teach them a harsh lesson…”
“However, if we accidentally forget where we put something, we might never find it for the rest of our lives…”
“Take my mother, for instance.
She searched everywhere for a handbag of hers and eventually gave up, only to find it by pure chance in my father’s car…”
“A very vivid analogy!” Dumbledore took a bite of a milk bun with condensed milk.
“Sometimes, the things we desire most are the very things we can never obtain…”
“To think, Lorin, when I was your age, I was still tormented by matters of the heart!”
“As am I.
We are both merely travelers wandering the path of magic, Albus.” Lorin checked the time.
He couldn’t delay any longer.
“I should head back now.
My mother and my fiancée are waiting to speak with me through the Two-Way Mirror.”
He smiled, drained the purplish-red wine in his glass, and added, “Forgive a young man who misses his fiancée!”
“Very well.
Have a wonderful evening, Lorin.” Dumbledore raised his glass in farewell, then lowered his head to focus on his lethally sugary treat.
His slightly reflective grey robes billowing gracefully, Lorin departed the Great Hall.
*Phew, that slash on the palm actually hurt quite a bit…*
*Still, Dumbledore’s suspicions should be mostly put to rest now…*
Lorin looked at his fully healed palm, growing increasingly satisfied with the Book of Gryffindor.
If not for the Book of Gryffindor, he wouldn’t have been able to manipulate his blood so effortlessly, thereby deceiving even Dumbledore!
Of course, he still harbored a bit of resentment.
If not for the Book of Gryffindor, why on earth would he have suffered like this for eight long years! Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“Hmm, only eight-thirty.
Luckily, I always make a habit of leaving myself plenty of time…”
As Lorin walked with brisk strides, a small, thin figure suddenly stepped out in front of him.
“Mr.
Montmorency.”
“Ah, Mr.
Potter.
Is something the matter?” Lorin glanced at Harry in surprise.
At this hour, shouldn’t he be chatting with Ron in the Gryffindor common room?
“Mr.
Montmorency, I actually have a question I’d like to ask you, if you have a moment.” Harry took a deep breath, clenching his fists tightly, looking incredibly nervous.
Lorin had intended to decline, but seeing the scar on Harry’s forehead and his anxious demeanor, his heart softened slightly.
“Ask away, Mr.
Potter.
But only one.”
“Thank you, sir!” Harry looked at Lorin, a hint of confusion in his eyes.
“Sir, if someone—I mean, hypothetically—grew up in a Muggle family, is it possible for them to become a powerful wizard?”
“Mr.
Potter, I myself come from a Muggle family,” Lorin said with a smile.
Noticing the slightly vacant look in Harry’s eyes, he added: “Sometimes, doing is always more important than thinking.”
“Rather than dwelling in illusion, it is far better to face reality sooner, Mr.
Potter.”
“Nightmares are only dreams in the end, but reality can always be made better, can it not?”
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Lorin cut him off.
“That is one question, Mr.
Potter.
Have a pleasant evening.”
With that, Lorin turned and headed back to his office, leaving a bewildered Harry to slowly walk back to the Gryffindor common room.
*Illusion?*
*Reality?*
*Wait, how did Mr.
Montmorency know I often have nightmares about that green light…*
*Wait!
I forgot to ask about the scar!*
Filled with a myriad of doubts, Harry returned to his dormitory and lay quietly in bed…
“Phew.
Playing the riddler really is quite amusing.” Lorin stretched and entered Silas Castle directly.
“I just wonder if young Harry will be able to figure it out.
We’ll see how he does with the Mirror of Erised…”
He washed up, changed, and got into bed.
The entire process took him barely half an hour.
Changing into a rose-gold nightgown embroidered with swans, Lorin leaned against the large bed and opened the Two-Way Mirror.