Dumbledore Returns

On Wednesday, the Gryffindor first years had two classes that morning: Herbology and Charms Class.

Herbology was practically manual labor. By the end of the morning, the first years were completely wilted, barely having the strength to eat.

"Hermione, could you stop insisting that we cast spells your way in class?" Ron lazily poked at the Steak in front of him with his fork.

After their nighttime excursion, their relationship had improved. Everyone was much more relaxed around one another now, and they could say many things directly.

Hermione tossed her hair and turned to Ron. "But you have to admit, my method works!"

"Didn't Loren manage to cast spells without following your method?" Ron argued confidently.

Beside them, Loren was trying to stuff a Cornbread the size of an adult's fist into his mouth in one bite. Hearing that, he turned and shouted at Ron, "Mm! Mmmmmm!"

Ron looked utterly baffled. "What did he say?"

"Ugh..." Hermione sighed, looking as though she could not bear to watch. This person was truly beyond saving. "He said he practiced that way at first too. Once he got used to it, though, any method of casting spells worked."

Loren nodded in agreement. "Slurp!" His saliva was about to spill out.

Hermione could not take it anymore. She smacked the back of his head, knocking the bread out of his mouth. "Eat properly!"

Ron could not bear to watch either, so he turned to Harry. "Harry, do you have training this afternoon?"

"Ugh..." Harry let out a long sigh as well. Life was hard. "Do you want to come watch?"

"No." Ron shook his head. "I'm not a Quidditch player. With that time, I could finish my homework and not have to rush through it with you on weekend nights."

That stung a little. Harry felt the Buckwheat bread in his mouth turn bitter. Quidditch training happened three times a week and took up much of his free time, leaving all his homework piled up for the weekend.

"Why can't Quidditch players get less homework?" Harry felt that was unfair.

Loren had already finished all his bread by then. "What kind of wonderful dream are you having? You want to play and skip homework too? Not even in your dreams!"

Some people had to study even in their dreams. How miserable. Sob, sob, sob.

At that moment, the skylight in the dining hall suddenly opened, and many Owls flew in. Hedwig struggled to drop a broomstick in front of Harry, then stood beside it in indignation and viciously pecked at the fruit on Harry's plate.

"A broomstick?" Hermione stared at it. Luckily, it was clean, neat, and elegant enough. Otherwise, if an actual broom had appeared on the dining table, no one would have been able to finish the meal.

"Professor McGonagall probably helped me buy it, but why did it arrive so quickly? I thought it would not get here until after Halloween." Harry was puzzled. The delivery was far too fast.

"This isn't an ordinary broomstick!" Ignoring Harry's confusion, Ron gently stroked the smooth handle. "Harry! This is a Nimbus 2000, the fastest broomstick around right now!"

"I take it back, Harry. I'm coming to watch your training this afternoon. Please, you have to let me ride the Nimbus 2000 for half an hour."

"Ten minutes would be fine too!"

"Three minutes is okay too!"

The others watched Ron make a fool of himself. He was acting as crazily as if he had spotted the girl he liked, talking to himself the entire time.

Loren desperately wanted to record this scene. He could start laughing at Ron from graduation onward and laugh for the rest of his life.

Harry looked toward the High Table, hoping to thank Professor McGonagall, but she was not there. Then Harry realized he had not seen Dumbledore for several days.

I'll thank Professor McGonagall when I get the chance, Harry thought.

By his reckoning, Peter Pettigrew's trial should have ended by now, and Dumbledore should have returned. Loren decided to try his luck at the Headmaster's office.

Standing before the stone Statues on the Third Floor, Loren began trying passwords.

"Lemon Drop!"

Nothing happened.

"Licorice Wands!"

Nothing happened.

"Cockroach Clusters!"

The monstrous statue leaped aside, and the wall behind it split in two, revealing a spiral Staircase.

That was it? Loren smiled smugly. "Headmaster's office? No challenge at all."

He rode the spiral Staircase to the door and pushed it open. Dumbledore had noticed Loren long ago and was not surprised.

"I knew you would come, Loren." As though entertaining an old friend, Dumbledore took candies from a bag on his desk. He had bought them the previous week, then hurried off to deal with some matters before he had a chance to eat any.

"Professor McGonagall told me you came looking for me after I left." Dumbledore opened a box of Hazelnut chocolate and offered it to Loren.

Loren took one, peeled off the wrapper, and put it in his mouth. The nutty fragrance of hazelnut mixed with the sweet aroma of chocolate, seeming to seep from his mouth into his heart. There were even scattered shreds of Shredded coconut. No wonder it had Dumbledore's seal of approval.

Loren spoke while chewing. "I have something I'd like the Headmaster to help me with."

Loren began telling Grandpa Bates's story. He explained that he wanted to buy Wolfsbane Potion and borrow the Sorcerer's Stone to help cure Grandpa Bates.

"To uphold a responsibility for decades, especially one that was never his to begin with—Mr. Bates is a great man." Dumbledore was moved as well.

"Also, I'm glad you told me about this." Even though it was after Peter Pettigrew's trial.

Dumbledore looked at the child before him. He cared for his family, dared to put his ideas into practice, and had already begun to show some shrewdness. Yet Dumbledore believed he was a good child.

After pondering for a while, Dumbledore said, "I can speak to Snape about the Wolfsbane Potion, but in the end, you will have to persuade Professor Snape yourself."

"As for the Sorcerer's Stone, I do not know whether it can cure a Werewolf. If it can, it would benefit the entire wizarding world."

"I will write to Nicol and ask."

Loren was somewhat disappointed. He still had to win Snape's favor. Fortunately, he had kept reading the books. Still, if Dumbledore brought it up, Snape was unlikely to refuse.

"All right." Loren moved on to another matter. "Harry is a little obsessed with the Mirror of Erised. He misses his father and mother too much."

"Has it affected his normal life?" Dumbledore's tone was not particularly urgent.

"It's all right. He missed half a day of Quidditch training. After we talked him out of it, he only goes to look occasionally at night, but it's still a little too frequent."

"I think this problem will improve after he recognizes his real family." Dumbledore relaxed. Things were much better than he had anticipated. Friendship truly was a good remedy for growth and healing wounds.

That child from a Pure-blood Families background twenty years ago, who should have been a Slytherin but ultimately became a Gryffindor. He could risk his life for his friends. With him by Harry's side, Harry should grow up more healthily.

Dumbledore started eating chocolates. Loren had already eaten more than half the box. The two of them began competing in secret to see who could eat the last piece.

Though neither said it aloud, Loren believed that he and Dumbledore shared that kind of understanding.

Meanwhile, on the Quidditch Pitch, Harry saw the man standing beside Professor McGonagall—a gaunt-faced man in a black coat, with lively eyes: Sirius Black.