Griffiths

The red-haired wizard tapped boredly on his frame, occasionally leaning out to see what the other portraits were doing.

Students called this tower the Astronomy Tower because every week, they had to observe the stars and attend astronomy classes at its summit. Even most of the portraits in the corridors were related to astronomy. Most of them were quiet and silent, with no one willing to chat with him.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. Then he saw a familiar student passing by and hurriedly chased after him.

"Hey, are you over your cold? Murray gave you medicine, right? That old fellow's Stupefy Potion really is good—"

He had thought the student would walk away without looking back as before, but unexpectedly, the other boy stopped and looked at him thoughtfully.

"Your name is Griffiths?" Wade asked.

"Yeah!" The red-haired wizard nodded happily. "Murray told you, right? These days, he's the only one who occasionally talks to me."

"Aren't there lots of portraits here?" Wade gestured around them.

"Don't even mention it." Griffiths said gloomily, "See that old man in the portrait diagonally across from us?"

Wade looked over. He was referring to an old wizard with stars painted on his robes and hat, standing before an enormous telescope and gazing intently at the night sky.

Griffiths said, "For hundreds of years, he's held that telescope, observing the same unchanging sky in the portrait. All he does is complain that I'm annoying. And there's Shalom, the one with glasses. She's always writing and calculating on parchment, never stopping. The results she's calculating were proven by Muggle scientists over a hundred years ago, but she just keeps calculating."

Wade saw a thin witch bent over her desk, calculating. Even after hearing Griffiths, she did not stop.

"And those stargazing children over there, see them? They're practically a pack of Cornish Pixies." Griffiths complained, "Whenever they aren't watching the stars or sleeping, they must be causing trouble somewhere—knocking over the old star-gazer's telescope, tearing Shalom's parchment, or yanking my hair and splashing ink all over my robes! I've really had enough!"

Griffiths sighed, lonely and helpless. Even though Wade was in a bad mood, he could not help laughing at him. The gloom, heaviness, and doubts in his heart seemed to have been swept away as well.

"How long have you been hanging here? Haven't you gotten used to it yet?" he asked.

"You don't understand. I used to hang in the Entrance Hall on the first floor, surrounded by portraits. Every day, I could watch Young Wizards coming and going, and occasionally teach them a few pranks. It was so much fun." Griffiths said regretfully, "But later, they wanted to hang Fosco's portrait too, so they moved me up to the Astronomy Tower. I thought it might be nice to make some new friends. Who knew it would be so boring here!"

"Can't portraits visit one another?" Wade asked.

"We can, but it takes a lot of effort. Most of the time, I can only stay in my own portrait." Griffiths said hopefully, "Can you move my portrait back to the Entrance Hall? Or anywhere lively would do! I'll repay you!"

Wade did not agree immediately. Instead, he said, "I'll have to ask the professors first. As long as they don't object, I'll help you move somewhere else."

Griffiths thought for a moment, then asked, "—What if they object?"

"Then I'll secretly move you somewhere else. Just not the Entrance Hall—that would be too conspicuous," Wade said.

"That's wonderful!" Griffiths was so excited he practically jumped up. He urged, "Then go ask them quickly! Ask them as soon as possible."

"...All right."

Wade smiled and turned to leave.

He had originally wanted to ask Griffiths whether Professor Murray had really come out of his own office that morning, and whether Quirrell often came here. But after chatting for a while, he abandoned the idea.

The red-haired wizard talked far too much and did not seem like someone who could keep a secret. Besides, he had surely known Professor Murray much longer than Wade had. Why should Wade expect him to keep a secret for him?

Better move the portrait first... then decide what to do.

Terence Murray had barely finished teaching his seventh-year students when he stormed off with his lesson plans tucked under his arm. He left behind several students who looked at one another like quails, utterly dispirited, as if they had just been through a storm.

What did he mean by, "Even first-years are better than you"? Did first-years even know what Alchemy was? Did they know how to write "0" in Runes?

They were unconvinced, but under Professor Murray's scolding, not one of them dared to argue. They could only lower their heads obediently and say, "Yes, yes, yes, everything you say is right."

Professor Murray became even angrier.

After meeting Wade, the more he looked at the students he had carefully selected, the less pleasing they seemed. Then he checked the Alchemy projects they had completed last time and became even more dissatisfied. In the end, he assigned them five times the usual homework, and even then felt they had it too easy.

Professor Murray returned to his office in a huff. From far away, he heard an enthusiastic voice say, "Did class go smoothly today, Professor Murray? The Young Wizards must have learned a great deal, right?"

It was difficult to remain truly cold in the face of such enthusiasm. Professor Murray unconsciously smiled. "Oh, Griffiths!"

"Of course. Who else could it be?" Griffiths said.

Professor Murray could not help stopping in the corridor to complain at length about his students. "—It would be one thing if they were less intelligent than others, but they're less hardworking too. Why study Alchemy at all? They might as well go to the Ministry of Magic and become decorations!"

"So you've taken a liking to that Young Wizard?" Griffiths leaned over his frame and asked with a smile.

Professor Murray fell silent for a moment, then suddenly sighed.

"Griffiths, gifted wizards often show that they are extraordinary from a young age. The moment they enter school, their talents shine, drawing everyone's attention. But talented people always yearn to learn profound and dangerous magic, master greater power, and pursue the Greater Good. Few are willing to settle down and study Alchemy."

"But in my view, what good is mastering the most dangerous forbidden magic in the world? Look at those who were once famous! Some fell as swiftly as meteors, some became notorious Dark Lords, and others had great reputations yet amounted to nothing! The more powerful they became, the more death and slaughter they brought to the world!"

"What can truly bring change to the Wizarding World, what can bring people happiness, ought to be Alchemy! Only by constantly learning from Muggles, innovating our techniques, and improving alchemical products can we bring better development to the Wizarding World, and only then can we... can we prevent wizards from being wiped out by Muggles."

"But these past years... although I've achieved some results and introduced certain Muggle inventions into the Wizarding World, I only feel like a baby learning to walk. The more desperately I chase after the footsteps of the giants ahead, the more I realize that the gap between us is so vast it is despairing... and that gap is growing wider every moment."

"And what about my students? All they can think about is inventing some wildly popular Magical Item and making lots of money. That's all that fills their heads—"

"But that child is different, isn't he?" Griffiths suddenly asked.

"Yes—" Professor Murray smiled. "Even though he is only eleven."