Love is the Greatest Magic

"Wait, Severus."

As Snape was about to turn and leave, Dumbledore called after him and asked candidly, "What is this?"

He raised the parchment in his hand.

Snape froze for a moment, then his expression grew somewhat strange.

"You don't know?"

"Evidently—I am not as omniscient as people boast. In fact, I often feel that I know far too little."

Snape looked Dumbledore up and down as if he had just seen a troll dancing ballet on tiptoe. The corner of his mouth curved, somewhere between mockery and schadenfreude.

"How rare—someone actually gave me a Christmas present but not the great Dumbledore?"

Snape's biting tone did not change Dumbledore's expression. The old Headmaster merely drew his Wand and waved it at the gift boxes filling the room. The Potions Class professor could not help but lean over for a look as well.

The gift boxes swayed slightly, then fell still.

Dumbledore sighed regretfully. "It seems there really aren't any."

"Oh." Snape replied dryly.

He had already seen it—the room was piled high with Dumbledore's gifts, nearly reaching the ceiling. Thinking of the handful of gift boxes in his own bedroom, Snape suddenly lost the desire to mock him.

He did not care in the slightest about how many gifts there were—he simply did not want to see people flaunting them without realizing it—

With a flick of his finger, Snape sent a slip of paper shooting toward Dumbledore like a bullet.

"This is the instruction manual."

By the time Dumbledore caught the note, Snape had already turned and strode away. The white-bearded Headmaster adjusted his glasses and lowered his gaze to read it. Before long, he understood how to use it.

"Oh—an invention that can replace Muggle telephones? What an interesting idea—"

He murmured the spell and examined the parchment—or rather, the Magic on the Book of Friends.

"An ingenious design, a brilliant combination... It seems Mr. Gray's studies in Alchemy are already bearing fruit—and he is exceptionally gifted as well—no wonder Murray is so pleased with himself—"

Remembering that he alone had received no gift, Dumbledore recalled the expressions on the children's faces that day and vaguely understood something.

"So that was it... A clever and sensitive child... Is that so? Unlike Harry, this child probably does not like being guided—"

He seemed to be talking to himself, but soon, an old and faint voice sounded in the room.

"Ralph rarely sees an eleven-year-old like that," the voice said. "A little like Albus Dumbledore in his youth; and like Tom Riddle in his youth—clever, perceptive, and different from everyone else."

Dumbledore looked downward and said modestly, "Oh, then you think too highly of me. When I was eleven, I knew as much about Alchemy as any ordinary child."

Where his gaze fell stood a very old House-elf before the fireplace. His skin was wrinkled, and he was wrapped in a tea towel bearing the Hogwarts crest. His ears were filled with fluffy white hair. He was so thin that he looked as though his body could be snapped with ease, yet his large green eyes were remarkably clear.

In that whisper-like voice, he said, "Albus Dumbledore is truly arrogant. By saying that, he is admitting that he is different from everyone else and believes he ought to know everything."

"Don't be so blunt, dear Ralph," Dumbledore said helplessly. "You see me too clearly. You often make me feel ashamed of myself."

He wiped his glasses, sat down at the desk, and softly requested, "Could you help me sort through these gifts? I need to write something."

"Ralph is happy to serve, Master."

The House-elf bowed, stepped back a few paces, and extended his thin fingers.

The gift boxes piled throughout the room untied themselves one after another. Books flew swiftly into the bookcases and arranged themselves neatly. Clean food leapt into cabinets, and with a bang, the cabinet doors shut. Greeting Cards and letters fell into several boxes, stacked neatly on the desk to await Dumbledore's inspection when he had time. The other items were placed in different corners of the room in turn.

As for the problematic gifts, they gathered into a heap and were mercilessly squeezed and crushed by Magic Power.

Before long, Ralph vanished from the room with this "trash" and the wrapping paper.

Only two or three unopened gift boxes remained on the desk—ones that only Dumbledore could open himself.

While the Elf busied himself, Dumbledore wrote his own name on every Book of Friends—Albus Dumbledore.

All the professors remaining at the school over the Christmas holiday had no families, perhaps not even relatives. Each had chosen to give one page from their Book of Friends, which allowed only one-to-one contact, to Dumbledore.

Thus, Dumbledore, who had received no Book of Friends as a Christmas present, still ended up with a Book of Friends thicker than anyone else's that morning.

After putting away the Book of Friends, Dumbledore sat at the desk and thought for a long time. The light and shadows of passing years swept before his eyes, stirring ripples in the depths of those blue eyes.

Was he similar? Of course he was.

Thinking back carefully, Wade Grey's gaze when he looked over from the crowd that day had been so much like Dumbledore's own when he was young.

But Dumbledore would not forget how thoroughly he had made a mess of his own life.

After pondering for a long time, he finally picked up his quill with great care and wrote a letter—

Dear Murray:

I have received the gift your owl brought, and I must say, it is extremely ingenious—even great. It is difficult to imagine that this was the work of an eleven-year-old child... Of course, in some respects, its construction is actually quite simple and easy to understand. But it is precisely because it is simple that it is all the more remarkable. I believe you understand what I mean... I can almost see the earth-shaking changes it will bring to the Wizarding World in the future...

To be honest, it fills me with joy, but also with fear—what kind of education should we give such an exceptionally gifted child?

The last time I encountered a student clever enough to make one tremble was fifty years ago... You should still remember that student as well—Tom Riddle... I am not arrogant enough to believe that my personal attitude determined Voldemort's life. But I must also admit that my education of him was undoubtedly a failure...

Gifted and precocious, his emotions restrained by thought and isolated by his own intelligence... Even standing among countless people, he was alone, because his mind and perceptiveness made it easier for him to see the selfishness, greed, ugly desires, and stubborn arrogance within human nature... He would maintain a certain distance from others, using humor, kindness, or politeness to disguise his disappointment and indifference toward humanity... He would be more likely to lose his way than those clumsy children...

You know, I am speaking not only of Tom Riddle, nor only of Wade Grey.

Therefore, regarding your student Wade, I have some perhaps immature advice...

My dear friend, when we adults face children far younger than ourselves, we often develop an unconscious conceit because we possess greater knowledge and experience... We look down upon those children from a position of superiority, wielding absolute power like monarchs, instilling in them the information we want them to know, withholding the information we believe they should not know, using words to manipulate them, guiding them toward the path we wish to see them take...

What arrogance that is!

More dangerously, we often fail to realize that arrogance.

Because we believe that we are making the right decisions, that it is all to make them "better people"...

I cannot say that this is absolutely wrong, because children's thoughts are often not mature enough, and they do not know how to restrain their words and actions. Without proper guidance, they can easily stray onto the wrong path and harm themselves and others... But for a student like Wade Grey, ordinary education may only have the opposite effect...

If I have gained any insight from my many years of failed education, it is this—love is the most difficult and most powerful magic in this world. It is mysterious and unfathomable, impossible to predict, yet capable of changing everything and deciding everything...