Dumbledore: A Headache, a Real Headache

Loren followed Dumbledore into the Headmaster's office. Both of them remained silent, and it was clear to anyone that they were both uneasy.

The table with its long, slender legs was still covered with exquisite silverware, motionless. In the daytime, they would rotate and emit steam.

Fawkes, his legs hunched over on the gold-trimmed perch, his feathers withered and dry, bobbing his head sleepily like an old hen brooding over eggs. Seeing Dumbledore enter, he dragged his weary body backward, trying to protect the few remaining feathers on his rump.

The portraits of the old headmasters, both men and women, watched as the two walked into the Headmaster's office with grim faces, whispering among themselves on the walls, speculating what school rule the young wizard had broken to provoke the usually mild-mannered Dumbledore into such a state.

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore turned on a few lights in the office, sat down in the armchair behind the desk, and began to pour tea for Loren and rummage through his stash of snacks in the drawer.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Loren hesitated for a moment before speaking, "I don't think Harry would like this kind of upbringing."

"Loren, please believe me. If I could, I would only wish that every student at Hogwarts could grow up happily, graduate smoothly, and then get a stable job, start a family with their loved one, and have a few mischievous children, just like the Weasley family."

Dumbledore looked exhausted, and he was equally upset. "However, Harry doesn't have much time left to grow up, and I think you've also noticed the strange thing in Crabbe's chest."

At this point, Dumbledore paused, recalling how he had just witnessed Loren mercilessly shove the Shattering Curse into Crabbe's chest, and frowned slightly. "Voldemort is training new Death Eater, and he and his minions will once again stir up trouble."

Loren recalled his battle with Crabbe. Last year, Crabbe was called a clueless troll and the worst student in Slytherin. Now, his dueling skills had surpassed most of his peers. And there was that strange black light on his chest...

Opening a box of Cockroach Clusters, Dumbledore took one and put it in his mouth. The popping sound and sweet taste soothed him somewhat. "Harry is special. He will gain unparalleled fame and honor, and he will also face the deepest fears and the most evil demon king. He must seize the time to grow. Mental fortitude is more important than magical power."

He handed the rest over and placed it between the two of them, saying, "Help him, Loren."

Loren was a little annoyed. "I know, you should be more concerned about the Ministry of Magic right now. Last night..."

He recounted how he used Legilimency to examine the memories of House-elf and discovered their collusion with Werewolf and the Ministry of Magic.

"In fact, I also have a Werewolf friend who already knows this news." Dumbledore serious; he was more concerned about Loren's access to his memories. He solemnly warned, "Loren, do not use Legilimency!"

Loren was momentarily confused. "Why?"

"Even though many scholars and spell experts have spoken out in support of the rationality and legitimacy of Legilimency, Wizengamot discusses the topic every year, there is no doubt that it is a Dark Arts that allows one to peer into the mind."

"Can--"

Dumbledore gestured for him not to rush to refute. "I know what you young people think, that magic is just a tool, without good or bad... that magic has no black or white, but wizards do."

Which enthusiastic young wizard doesn't think the same way? He sighed softly, "Long ago, when I was young, I thought the same thing. I believed I was exceptionally gifted, that I should control magic, not the other way around. The closer I get to the essence of magic, the more I feel the source of its Magic Power, the more I realize my own ignorance and arrogance."

"Loren, the soul is the most mysterious realm of magic. No one has ever truly grasped its essence, yet its power is evident in every aspect of magic. Conversely, magic can also influence the soul. I think you've heard that a dark wizard completely obsessed with Dark Arts cannot use the Patronus Charm; this is a manifestation of how Dark Arts affects the soul."

Loren recalled Flamel saying something similar when he practiced the Sectumsempra. The two old wizards' reminders made him take it seriously, and he began to reflect on his actions, trying to determine if he had truly been influenced by Dark Arts.

Access the memories of your House-elf, and use the Memory Charm to conceal their whereabouts.

The Rebound Shattering Curse Spell probes the strangeness of Crabbe...

Dumbledore watched Loren, who was lost in thought, and waited patiently, his eyes filled with deep expectation.

The portraits on the wall had long noticed the two people below and heard their conversation in its entirety. Even some of the old headmasters who were dozing in their picture frames were awakened.

The 18th-century headmistress Dilys Devante, was an outstanding Healer. Her portrait hangs at Hogwarts and St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She strongly agreed with Dumbledore's view that "Dark Arts is like sewage, which will stain a pure soul black."

Headmaster Black, a Slytherin alumnus, retorted, stroking his goatee, "This shows that Dark Arts is closer to the essence of the soul. As long as one stays true to oneself, Dark Arts can be a powerful tool."

He got more and more excited as he spoke, even becoming indignant. "Durmstrang treats Dark Arts as a normal course, and the young wizards who come out of their school are much better fighters than those in our school! If you ask me, they should open a Dark Arts course."

"What nonsense are you talking about!"

The old headmaster Dexter Foster, was short-tempered. He couldn't stand it anymore, so he ripped off his hearing aid, jumped into Black's picture frame, and gave him a good beating.

Several Hufflepuff principals rushed to break up the fight, and together they held Black back from retaliating, allowing Dexter to land a few more punches.

Loren was awakened by the loud fighting sounds above and looked at Dumbledore with a strange expression. He secretly wondered whether hanging Dumbledore's portrait was to fight or to take sides.

Dumbledore's face remained expressionless, as if he were already used to it. He looked at Loren with expectant eyes, waiting for his answer.

Loren shook his head again. "Headmaster, the House-elf Pyg was monitoring my movements and set fire to Windsor Castle. Crabbe has sided with Voldemort and is ruthless towards me. I don't think there's anything wrong with using Dark Arts against them. Gentleness and kindness are reserved for family and friends, but we should show no mercy when dealing with them."

"Well said, lad! You should come to our Slytherin House!" Headmaster Black was still uneasy even after being beaten.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and the portraits of the headmasters flipped over, transforming into images of them sleeping.

He looked at Loren with a headache; sometimes talent and intelligence can become obstacles to education.

Other young wizards would never have learned such Dark Arts in their second year. Even if they did, they would have come to their senses after being advised by him. Loren's wisdom and independent thinking only made him more stubborn.

"You're right. We should show no mercy to our enemies. I'm also skilled at Legilimency and I don't hesitate to use it on my enemies. I don't object to you studying Dark Arts either. Only by mastering Dark Arts can you resist Dark Arts."

"But not now. You are too young to know what a dark abyss the human heart is. While it is eyeing the darkness, the darkness is also eyeing you." Dumbledore's voice was gentle yet firm.

Dark Arts is like flowing water, invisible and slow. The more recklessly it is used, the more recklessly it flows through the user's mind and soul, leaving its mark imperceptibly.

Dumbledore times, and into his own heart countless times as well. He deeply felt the marks that Dark Arts had left on his soul, so he feared power, revered life, and confined himself in chains to a high building far removed from the world.

But Loren didn't want to listen. He believed Dumbledore for his own good, for his own sake. Just like every parent who loves their child, he wanted his child to have an infinitely bright future and didn't want his child to be tainted by any flaws.

He felt that Dumbledore seriously, much like some parents view electronic products and games as a scourge, which was an overreaction.

Loren believed he possessed the soul of an adult and would not have his personality completely altered by Dark Arts. As for his ruthlessness towards enemies, he considered it hardly a flaw.

Dumbledore attempted to hold him to a saintly standard, which is impossible in the real world.

Loren silently ate the Cockroach Clusters, pretending not to hear what Dumbledore had just said. The crunching sound of the candy bursting brought a sweet taste.

This child really won't listen to advice.

Dumbledore more troubled; he didn't want to see the old Loren changed.

That Loren could dispel Malfoy's evil intentions with a kind Frozen Pear, and inspire Winky's loyalty with an attitude of treating the weak equally... He possessed the most powerful magical power and a deep love in his heart.

Dumbledore's fingers tapped incessantly on the armrest as he watched Loren devour a box of Cockroach Clusters. Despite clearly defying him, Loren continued to eat his snacks with a clear conscience.

The white-bearded principal smiled silently. Since he couldn't change the man's opinion, he would guide his behavior instead.

He opened another box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and handed it to him, saying gently, "You only arrived at the Great Hall after the dueling event started, so you probably haven't had dinner yet, right?"

Loren nodded. The mirror with the Soul Stone had undergone some changes. Flamel led him to add some magic circles to the mirror to control the effects of the Soul Stone, which took a long time and made him miss dinner.

"Although I accepted your snacks, it doesn't mean I accept your point of view," Loren warned, shaking his head, though his chewing on the candy suggested his stance wasn't entirely firm.

"Of course," Dumbledore said with a smile, "You can eat at your own pace. I just want to tell you a story."

Using fables to educate him? Do you think he's a primary school student? Loren glanced at the white-bearded old headmaster. "For the sake of the Cockroach Clusters, go ahead and tell me."

Dumbledore wasn't annoyed. He refilled his teacup so he wouldn't choke. "This is the second story in the Tales of Beedle the Bard, ' The Fountain of Good Fortune.' The Fountain of Good Fortune is in a mysterious, Magic Garden Magic Garden, where exotic flowers, rare herbs, and precious fruit trees grow. It's on a high mountain..."

The Poet Beedle created a Fountain of Good Fortune that could grant wishes. Three Witch and a knight teamed up to search for the Fountain of Good Fortune, and in the end, they all achieved their wishes through their own efforts.

The meaning is probably that self-reliance leads to abundance, Loren guessed.

After finishing the story, Loren, having eaten and drunk his fill, patted his stomach and let out a satisfied sigh, "A wonderful fable, but I didn't hear any connection to Dark Arts."

"Hmm—it's nothing." Dumbledore smiled like a fox. "I just want to make a deal with you. If you promise not to use Legilimency again, I will tell you the location of the Fountain of Good Fortune."

Loren suddenly paused, "Isn't the original meaning of the story of the Fountain of Good Fortune to tell us that we should obtain happiness with our own hands? And doesn't the ending of the story imply that the Fountain of Good Fortune is fictional?"

"That's true, but if it were you, Loren, you probably wouldn't care about the story's original meaning. Besides, this isn't fiction."

Dumbledore deep look and said with emotion, "My early life was utterly miserable. I was constantly on the move, separated from my family and friends. Despair and trouble filled my life, and just when it was about to break, I found the Fountain of Good Fortune, which slowly helped me put my shattered life back together."

"Whether you are exploring the mysteries of magic or crafting Sorcerer's Stone, the Fountain of Good Fortune can provide you with effective assistance."

Loren looked at the headmaster with suspicion. He didn't quite believe that Dumbledore's life-changing turnaround was due to the Fountain of Good Fortune, and besides, Dumbledore's life now couldn't be described as wonderful.

But he was moved, truly moved. "Do we need to make an Unbreakable Vow?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "There's no need for Unbreakable Vow; a simple Magical Contract will suffice. I won't impose any punishment on you; the magic will simply alert me when you break the contract."

He extended his right index finger, guiding the Magic Power to establish a contract, flame-like patterns blooming on the first knuckle. "Place your index finger on it and say your promise."

Seeing this miraculous scene, Loren's eyes widened. "A contract? Wait a moment."

Fifteen minutes later, Dumbledore watched the scene unfold before him with twitching eyes.

Loren held a parchment covered in dense writing in one hand, while the other hand casually pressed against the fiery contract patterns, and he read aloud the agreement he had just written without any emotion:

"Party A: Albus Dumbledore; Party B: Loren Morgan. Based on relevant legal provisions and adhering to the principles of equality, mutual benefit, and common development, Party A and Party B have reached an agreement through consultation..."

The flame pattern on Dumbledore finger flickered erratically, reflecting the old wizard's inner turmoil.

Loren was engrossed in his contract, completely oblivious to the Bursting Flame: "Article Seven, Liability for Breach of Contract... If the life and property safety of Party B and its relatives are threatened, forcing Party B to be unable to perform the contract normally, or to breach the contract, it shall not be deemed a breach of contract by Party B, and Party A shall continue to perform its responsibilities."

"In the event of force majeure, such as earthquakes or volcanic eruptions..."

Dumbledore's temples were throbbing violently; he could no longer bear it.

Sizzle!

The flame pattern on Loren finger and tinting some of the fingerprint lines with a faint gold color before disappearing under his skin.

Dumbledore didn't give Loren a chance to speak, waving his wand with a large hand. Loren only felt a blur before his eyes, and when he came to his senses, he was already locked out of the Headmaster's office.

Loren, who had been driven out, was indignant and his angry rants echoed through the Castle corridors:

"What's wrong with having more terms and conditions!"

"This shows that I have a strong sense of contractual obligation!"

——

The following content is free.

Fountain of Good Fortune

Fountain of Good Fortune is located on a high hill in a Magic Garden, surrounded by high walls and protected by powerful magic.

Once a year, between sunrise and sunset on the longest day, only one unfortunate person has the opportunity to come to the Fountain of Good Fortune, bathe in the water, and receive lasting good luck.

That day, before dawn, hundreds and thousands of people came from all over the kingdom to the outside of the garden walls. These people were men and women, rich and poor, old and young, some with magic and some without. They gathered in the darkness, each hoping to be the lucky one to enter the garden.

Three Witch, each carrying a heavy sorrow, gathered outside the crowd. As they waited for the sunrise, they shared their pain with one another.

The first Witch was named Asha. She suffered from a terminal illness that no doctor could cure. She hoped that the Fountain of Good Fortune would cure her symptoms and grant her happiness and longevity.

The second Witch was named Altheda. Her home, her gold, and her wand were all taken by an evil sorcerer. She hoped that the Fountain of Good Fortune would save her from poverty and weakness.

The third Witch was Amata. She was abandoned by the man she deeply loved and felt that her inner pain would never heal. She hoped that the Fountain of Good Fortune could alleviate her pain and longing.

The three women sympathized with each other and agreed that if good fortune came their way, they should unite and try to go to the Fountain of Good Fortune together.

The first rays of sunlight illuminated the sky. A crack appeared in the wall. The crowd surged forward, each person screaming and begging for the blessing of the Fountain of Good Fortune. Vines from the garden stretched out, winding and twisting through the throng, entwining the first Witch Asha. Asha grabbed the wrist of the second Witch, Altheda Altheda in turn clung tightly to the robe of the third Witch, Amata.

However, Amata was stopped by the armor of a gloomy-looking knight riding a skinny horse.

The vines pulled the three Witch through the cracks in the wall, and the knight was also pulled off his skinny horse, falling into the garden with them.

The disappointed crowd erupted in angry shouts that echoed through the morning air. Then, as the garden walls closed again, the crowd fell silent.

Asha and Altheda were furious with Amata because she had accidentally brought the knight in with her.

"Only one person can bathe in the Fountain of Good Fortune! It was already difficult enough to choose one person from among us, and now there's another one!"

At this point, Sir Misfortune —who was called that in the world outside the walls—discovered that the three women were Witch, and that he, lacking magic, martial arts, swordsmanship, or any other talent that would make a non-magician stand out, believed he was no match for the three women and would never reach the Fountain of Good Fortune. Therefore, he declared his intention to withdraw and return to the outside of the walls.

Amata was furious upon hearing this.

"Coward!" she scolded him. "Draw your sword, knight, and help us reach our destination!"

So the three Witch and the poor knight boldly entered the Magic Garden. Along the sunlit path grew lush exotic flowers, rare herbs, and precious fruit trees. They made their way unimpeded until they reached the foot of the hill where the Fountain of Good Fortune was located.

However, a huge White Worm, blind and bloated, coiled at the foot of the hill. As they approached, it turned its filthy face toward them and uttered the following words: Prove your suffering to me.

The Sir Misfortune drew his sword, intending to kill the monster, but the blade broke. Then Altheda threw stones at the worm, Asha and Amata chanted various spells to subdue or bewitch it, but the power of their wands was as useless as Altheda's stones and the knight's sword: the worm simply wouldn't let them pass.

As the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, Asha cried in despair.

Then, the large earthworm pressed its face against Asha's face and drank the tears on her cheeks. The earthworm's thirst was relieved, and it slowly moved aside, burrowed into a hole, and disappeared.

The three Witch and the knight were overjoyed to see the earthworms disappear and began climbing up the hill, thinking they would surely reach the Fountain of Good Fortune before noon.

However, when they climbed halfway up the steep cliff, they saw a line of words carved on the ground in front of them: Give me the fruits of your labor.

The Sir Misfortune took out his only coin and placed it on the grass on the hillside, but the coin rolled away and disappeared. The three Witch and the knight continued climbing, but despite walking for several more hours, they made no progress. The summit remained as far as ever, and the inscription on the ground before them was still there.

The sun passed overhead and began to slip toward the distant horizon. They were all disheartened, but Altheda walked faster and harder than the others, urging them to do the same, even though she hadn't made a single step up the Magic Mountain.

"Courage, friends, don't give up!" she shouted, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

Glistening sweat dripped onto the ground, the line of words that had blocked their path disappeared, and they found themselves able to continue climbing the mountain.

Overjoyed at clearing the second obstacle, they hurried to the top of the mountain and finally saw the Fountain of Good Fortune, which Winky like crystal among the trees and flowers.

But before they reached the spring, they encountered a river. This river wound around the mountaintop, blocking their path. Deep within the clear river water, there was a smooth stone with the following words written on it: Give me your past wealth.

The Sir Misfortune tried to float across the river on his shield, but the shield sank into the water. Three Witch pulled the knight out of the river, and then they tried to leap across themselves, but the river wouldn't let them. Meanwhile, the sun was sinking lower and lower in the sky.

So they began to ponder the meaning of the words on the stone, Amata was the first to understand.

She drew her wand, pulled all the happy times she had spent with her vanished lover from her mind, and threw them into the flowing river. The rapids carried these memories away, and stepping stones appeared in the river, allowing the three Witch and the knight to finally cross and reach the mountaintop.

The Fountain of Good Fortune Winky before them, surrounded by exotic flowers and plants they had never seen before, breathtakingly beautiful. The sky shimmered with ruby-like light; now it was time to decide who would bathe. Just before they made their decision, a weakened Asha collapsed to the ground. The journey to the summit had been too arduous; she was on the verge of death.

Her three friends tried to carry her to the Fountain of Good Fortune, but Asha was in excruciating pain and begged them not to touch her.

At this point, Altheda quickly picked all the herbs she thought were effective, mixed them in the Sir Misfortune's water gourd, and fed them to Asha.

Asha was able to stand up immediately. Moreover, all the symptoms of her terminal illness disappeared.

"I'm healed!" she exclaimed. "I don't need the Fountain of Good Fortune anymore—let Altheda bathe!"

But Altheda was busy picking more herbs and putting them in her apron.

"Since I can cure this disease, I can earn a lot of gold! Let Amata bathe!"

The Sir Misfortune bowed and gestured for Amata to walk towards the spring, but Amata shook her head. The river washed away all her longing for her lover, and she realized how cold and heartless he was; being free from him was truly a blessing.

"Good sir, go take a bath as a reward for your chivalrous act!" she said to the Sir Misfortune.

So, in the last rays of the setting sun, the knight strode forward and bathed in the Fountain of Good Fortune. To his astonishment, he found himself to be one of the lucky few, and felt elated by this incredible stroke of luck.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Sir Misfortune emerged from the spring, radiating joy. Clad in Scabbers armor, he knelt at Amata's feet, believing Amata to be the kindest and most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His face flushed with excitement, he proposed to her, begging for her heart.

Amata was also very happy, realizing that she had found a man she could give her heart to.

The three Witch and the knight walked hand in hand down the mountain.

The four people lived happily for a long time, but none of them knew or ever doubted that the water of the Fountain of Good Fortune had no magic at all.