As the first rays of morning light pierced the clouds and fell upon the snow-covered spires of the castle, the Astronomy Tower's chimes rang out the hour.
In the Headmaster's Office, the two men who had talked through the entire night still had clear eyes, as though the long, profound conversation had not drained their energy but instead swept away some of the troubling haze in their hearts.
Yet the shadows beneath their eyes honestly spoke of their physical exhaustion, telling them that it was time to rest.
Dumbledore rose and opened the window, letting the cold air outside pour into the room and disperse the stuffy air that made one drowsy.
He turned back, pondered for a moment, and said, "That baby you brought back—Ezra Hughes. What are you planning to do with him?"
After a pause, instead of probing and speculating as he usually did, he asked directly:
"Do you intend to... heal him because Hawthorne may hold an important position among the Acolytes in the future, and make him a bridge between you?"
Wade froze for a moment, then said, "When I agreed to help them, I hadn't thought that far ahead."
Before his eyes, the image of Ezra Hughes standing before Hawthorne and taking a fatal blow seemed to flash by again—Wade had not witnessed that scene himself, but Wilan had brought back a recording of it.
He said naturally, "What side he takes in the future isn't important. What matters is that, in the past, he was an outstanding warrior, someone who strove to preserve peace and was willing to sacrifice himself for it."
"So I thought... those who gather firewood for others must not be left to freeze to death in the wind and snow."
Dumbledore gazed at him quietly. His azure eyes seemed