Reason and Emotion

Bright sunlight streamed into the quiet office, filling the room with a cool, bright light.

Dumbledore stood silently by the wall, leaning against the window and basking in the gentle warmth of the sunlight. His gaze lingered on Loren for a moment before turning to Hermione, his deep blue eyes reflecting thoughts that no one else could decipher.

Hermione stood behind Loren and unconsciously put her arm around his left hand.

She didn't know what Loren was thinking or feeling, but she keenly sensed that Loren was very calm, almost indifferent.

After hearing Loren's words, Sirius Black was reminded of his youth.

During his years living at 12 Grimmauld Place, he rebelled against the rigid and outdated family values, became obsessed with Muggle items, covered his room with Muggle posters, befriended Muggle girls, and hung out with Muggle boys.

For a long time, Sirius Black believed that he was different from the wizards in his family and that he did not discriminate against Muggle.

What surprised Sirius Black was that he could hardly recall the names of his former Muggle friends.

Am I really different from those Pure-blood Supremacy Black?

Have I truly repented?

"If it weren't for Loren, I would never have thought of those ten unlucky Muggle for the rest of my life..." Sirius Black repeated, his tone filled with confusion.

The scene of the street explosion and the deaths of twelve Muggle because of him repeated itself over and over again. Sirius Black shook his head in anguish. He couldn't give an answer, but he didn't believe it was all his fault, so he stubbornly argued:

"When I heard the news of James and Lily's deaths, I lost my composure and was so angry that I couldn't think straight. There was only one thing on my mind: to make that damn Wormtail pay for it."

Why should I be understanding of your thoughts at the time?

Loren's tone remained calm as he replied slowly, "Harry's parents are dead, so you can hunt down Wormtail Peter at all costs. Similarly, my parents died because of you, so how am I supposed to face you?"

Hermione gripped Loren's left hand tightly, trying to calm her pounding heart and body. Even though Loren was the one directly involved, the little Witch's emotions were fluctuating even more intensely than his.

"That was made by Wormtail. I didn't know he was going to use that magic!" Sirius Black retorted.

"Harry's parents were also killed by Voldemort. Can I say that Wormtail Peter was unaware of this?" Loren raised his voice and asked rhetorically.

"It's not entirely my fault! I can make amends for this!"

Loren scoffed, "Ultimately, my parents are dead. No matter how great the reasoning in this world is, it can't surpass the blood feud. It's only right that I kill you!"

Frustration kept rising from Sirius Black's heart. He was shocked to realize that he had taken on many things he had once despised: the family values that despised Muggle had unknowingly tainted his heart, and his behavior was the same as that of Wormtail, whom he had once scorned.

His mind was too dull to process anything further. Driven by a strange impulse, he craned his neck and growled with a hint of recklessness, "Then kill!"

"[Sectumsempra] "

Loren drew his wand and deftly swung it forward, unleashing an invisible blade.

As Hermione cried out in alarm, an invisible blade whistled through the air, aimed directly at Sirius Black's left chest. The blade sliced through his black robes, tore through his flesh, pierced the gap between his ribs, and hurtled towards his beating heart—

Loren was Dumbledore knew he could no longer stand idly by. He slightly raised his hand, using the Sectumsempra to halt the relentless advance of the blade, thus neutralizing its unstoppable momentum.

Sirius Black clutched his chest, crimson blood gushing out. The intense pain triggered a surge of adrenaline, and cold sweat quickly soaked through his magic robes.

He was very good at enduring pain; no cries of pain could be heard. He just slumped in the chair, constantly gasping for breath.

The atmosphere calmed down for a moment.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, gripping Loren's arm tightly, her heart pounding wildly.

Almost, almost... She almost thought Professor Black was really going to splatter blood Headmaster's office.

Although Professor Black's good image in her mind was gone forever, she didn't really want to see Loren kill someone.

Dumbledore's eyes were filled with boundless sorrow and pity. "I cannot let you do this, Loren, for Sirius Black, and for you..."

He waved to the Phoenix, who was peeking out from the side.

Fawkes glanced at the people in the room, spread his wings and flew above Sirius Black, squeezed out two tears that fell on his wound, and then flew back without a word.

The first tear dispels the lingering Magic Power of the wound, while the second tear begins to continuously repair it.

Sirius Black's pale face was covered in cold sweat, as if he had just been pulled from Black Lake, and blood flowed like a stream from his left chest, winding along his magic robe and onto the carpet.

The bright, vibrant, and pristine carpet was stained with blood, its warm yellow turning into a deep, almost brownish-black red.

"I can't let you do that, Loren, for Sirius Black, and for you..." Dumbledore repeated, as if speaking to someone else, yet also as if speaking to himself.

From a moral standpoint, Loren had every reason to kill him. From a legal standpoint, Sirius Black's crime did not warrant the death penalty.

He didn't want to see Loren consumed by hatred. The love between parents contains the power of love, a power that should be used for creation, not destruction.

Moreover, Loren is only 13 years old, Dumbledore cannot watch his soul shatter and cannot ignore it.

Loren had anticipated Dumbledore's move and remained silent, standing there in place.

The room fell silent for a moment, with Sirius Black's heavy breathing remaining.

In the instant death loomed, Sirius Black felt immense fear, and his experiences over the past few decades flashed before his eyes. Contrary to expectations, he examined his actions from an outsider's perspective, remaining remarkably calm.

He vaguely realized that he should feel guilty for the innocent Muggle who died tragically, and should remember the names of at least one or two Muggle friends he once knew.

Sirius Black strained to lift his head and asked, "What do I have to do for you to forgive me?"

Loren glanced at Dumbledore, who was clasped in his hands and remained silent.

He looked directly at Sirius Black: "You've been seeking my forgiveness from beginning to end, just because I'm the victim's son? Do the other victims have sons? Are they other people's sons? Why don't you seek their forgiveness?"

"Why should I forgive you? Why should the victim's family forgive you?"

"Besides the victims—who else has the right to forgive you?"

His voice gradually rose, and by the time he asked the last question, he was already emotionally agitated.

Sirius Black was stunned. He had never thought about these questions before, so he couldn't answer. He could only slump silently in his chair, looking down at the bloodstains on the carpet that were spreading.

Dumbledore lowered his head silently, his gaze also falling on the bloodstains on the ground.

In those crimson bloodstains, he seemed to see Gellert's face. For the so-called "For the Greater Good," Gellert had killed many people: wizards, Muggle, the innocent, the guilty, children of other parents, parents of other children...

These are also the problems that are troubling him.

He couldn't forgive Gellert for those he killed; no one could.

"Sirius Black will go to Muggle society, find the relatives of those victims, try to heal their trauma, and win their... their forgiveness. No magic will be used in this process; I will have him make Unbreakable Vow."

Dumbledore looked at Loren and said, "After he has been forgiven by the others, I will send him to you again to seek your forgiveness. Then you can decide whether to take revenge on him."

"Loren, is it okay?"

His voice was soft, carrying a hint of pleading.

Loren pursed his lips, took out a petal-shaped hand mirror from his pocket, picked out a wisp of dim crimson light from the mirror, spun the Scarlet Illusion's Magic Power twice, pointed it at Sirius Black, and the Magic Power rushed towards it.

This time, Dumbledore did not stop him.

"Never appear in front of me again until the redness in your eyes fades."

Loren took Hermione's hand and turned to leave.

I walked out of the Headmaster's office and walked along the corridor.

Hermione asked, "Shall we go back to the Gryffindor Common Room?"

"Have no idea."

Loren didn't know where he wanted to go, nor did he really want to go back to the Common Room. He wasn't as calm as he appeared; his mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts.

He just led Hermione forward aimlessly, not wanting to stop.

Hermione stared silently at the back of Loren's head, but finally couldn't resist her curiosity:

"What was that magic spell that was cast in the mirror just now? And what do the red blood vessels represent?"

"If the redness in his eyes disappears, it means he has found the answer to those questions."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, then asked in a low voice, "Actually, you didn't intend to kill Professor Black, right?"

"Intellectually I know he doesn't deserve to die, but emotionally I think he deserves to die. Unfortunately, I let reason prevail just now."

Loren didn't turn around, and still had some time to make fun of himself.

It was this clear-headed rationality that made Hermione feel even more sorry for her.

She quickened her pace lightly, keeping her level with Loren, and took one of his hands in her own, trying to make him feel some warmth in this way.

"Loren, are you sad?"

Loren paused for a moment. "Fortunately, I only regained those memories after the start of my second year. I only spent a year with them. During that time, I was always asleep. Harry is in a similar situation; he can hardly remember anything before he was one year old."

He didn't mention his father or mother, and you could hear the forced nonchalance in his words.

Hermione gripped his hand tighter. "So you're sad?"

Loren felt a tightness in his chest, a kind of discomfort, yet something warm flowed from Hermione's palm, coursing through his body along with his blood.

He slowly stopped walking.

Loren wanted to say something witty to break the awkward atmosphere, but he couldn't think of anything. Not wanting Hermione to see his expression, he could only turn his head and look out the corridor window.

Outside was the Forbidden Forest of spring, a deep green expanse, bathed in the bright Easter sunshine, lush and verdant.

Hermione stood behind him, gently close to his body. Hermione's red and yellow magical robes smelled of lavender detergent, and in the sunlight, she could smell the boy's clear sorrow.

After thinking for a moment, Hermione took the initiative to pull him to the other side, leading him to another stairwell and up the escalator.

Beneath the Hogwarts Clock Tower's main bell is an openwork attic from which you can see the Black Lake, the Forbidden Forest, and most of the Castle's buildings.

In first grade, she mistakenly thought Loren had Werewolf Disease and brought him here to comfort him, just like when they first met. Hermione pulled Loren to sit down and put his feet outside the attic.

The wind swept from one side of the attic to the other, carrying a hint of coolness still lingering in the spring sunshine.

Hermione took a deep breath, feeling refreshed and invigorated, and asked, "Do you remember this place?"

Loren also took a deep breath. "I remember, in the first year, someone was ostracized by their roommate and secretly hid here to cry."

Hermione listened to this man's words and wanted to beat him up right there, but he should be sad right now, and she would feel guilty if she did.

"Some people are on edge the whole time during the full moon!"

"Some people even mistook others for Werewolf and were so scared they cried."

"I didn't cry!"

"She cried!"

"You..."

A breeze blows from afar, and mistletoe hangs from the crabapple tree, its branches adorned with white beads, nurturing tender white buds that will soon bloom.

Loren lay down and chatted with Hermione casually. His fluctuating emotions subsided and he fell asleep without realizing it.

"?"

Hermione noticed that the person next to her was not moving, turned her head, and saw that he was asleep.

She remained silent, turning to look at his peaceful expression as he slept. He was much more pleasing to the eye when he wasn't talking.

After staring for an unknown amount of time, Hermione looked away and was about to take out the book from the pendant around her neck when she realized that one of her hands was still being held by that person.

I tried to pull it out without disturbing him, but I couldn't.

Using his left hand, he took out "Human Transfiguration: Transformation and Fixation" from the Storage Scale, placed it on his lap, and awkwardly flipped through the pages...

Loren opened his eyes.

It was getting late, and the sky outside was a dim, black hue. Only a few blue flames, like ribbons of silk, floated quietly overhead, providing some warmth and light.

Hermione's face was inches from his, her eyes wide open as she stared at him.

"What are you looking at?"

Loren twisted his head, stretching his languid limbs, and groped for his arm to sit up. With the slightest movement, he realized he was holding something soft and smooth in his hand.

It was Hermione's little hand, warm and slightly damp, from the sweat on his hands that he kept covering his hands even when he slept.

Loren felt his face getting hot, and he preemptively accused, "I was distracted when I came here and forgot to let go. How come you didn't know to pull it out? Look, you're sweating."

Hermione pulled her hand away in annoyance and slapped the back of his hand with some force, making a crisp snap.

"I've tried! I can't pull it out. You get anxious as soon as I move it, and you squeeze it tighter and tighter."

I didn't intend to portray Sirius Black as a purely evil person; rather, I wanted to express the divide between wizards and Muggle and highlight a universal concept.

In the Wizarding World, even wizards who don't subjectively discriminate against Muggle will still see Muggle as a different kind of being.

The fountain in the Ministry of Magic subtly hinted that, apart from wizards themselves, all other creatures are of a lower status.