Fairy Tales, Fables, and Textbooks

After everyone had drunk the family's traditional soup, the main course of lunch was fairly normal.

It was just a far cry from the delicacies Aivina cooked. For some reason, all the meat carried a fishy, sour stench, as though it had not been properly prepared.

After lunch, Griffin said to Manus in a low voice with a miserable expression,

"That's why I fell in love with your mother at first sight. On the Hogwarts Express, she shared a sandwich she'd made herself with me... I'll never forget that taste for the rest of my life."

By the end, Griffin's face had taken on a dreamy look.

In the past, Manus would have assumed Griffin's memories had been filtered through the lens of love, but now he merely nodded in wholehearted agreement.

"Judging by the time, the earliest guests should start arriving soon."

Grandfather's sudden words made Griffin lower his head and fall silent, guilt written all over his face. Fortunately, Grandfather did not pay much attention to his reaction. His instructions were mainly for Manus.

However, Grandfather clearly did not have particularly high expectations for a seven-year-old. He merely told him not to run around when the time came, and not to answer guests' questions carelessly.

He only needed to remain within his family's sight, serve as a little mascot when necessary, and spend the rest of the time eating.

Not causing trouble would be his greatest contribution to the banquet.

Manus had no objections to that. In fact, he had already prepared for it.

After sitting down on a small sofa in the corner of the living room, he took out Talking to Your Wand and began reading. As for the other books he was bringing back, he had already had Nati pack them into the carriage.

"Oh, that book."

Grandfather glanced at it, then smiled and nodded after confirming that it was suitable to read in front of guests.

"Very good. Just focus on reading when the time comes."

This child really was worry-free.

After nodding to Grandfather, Manus returned his attention to the story in the book.

This book was exceptionally well written.

After realizing that magic in this world received spiritual amplification in every respect, while Potions involving ingredients leaned heavily toward properties shaped by collective perception, Manus reasonably suspected that wands worked on much the same principle.

Then how should one describe the indescribable properties of wand materials?

Although he personally preferred rational definitions, Manus knew that approach was not particularly suited to this world's magical system. At the very least, that was true in Potions.

People's understanding of a material was not inherently so clear or precise that it could be defined and summarized in fixed words. Such understanding could even change over time.

As for how to describe those properties in a way suited to this world's characteristics, Talking to Your Wand demonstrated it perfectly.

Compared with more complex literary genres, fairy tales and fables often made their characters' actions, personalities, and traits simpler and more obvious in order to convey their meaning. They could even be somewhat stereotypical.

That was because they had been created with a purpose: as positive or negative teaching examples.

For the same reason, this literary genre had been adopted by a wizard of the Ollivander family as a textbook for the properties of wand materials.

The personalities and traits displayed by those trees and magical creatures in the stories were, in truth, the properties of those materials, merely expressed in a way less likely to distort them.

The traits displayed in the stories likewise carried a hazy quality that was difficult to pin down and summarize.

Furthermore, this book was widely circulated throughout the wizarding world as children's reading material, and could itself guide people to form or strengthen their perceptions of those materials according to its contents.

By influencing wizards from childhood, it ensured that those materials' properties would not lose their effectiveness due to shifts in public perception.

The Ollivander family... wandmakers with a legacy spanning thousands of years. They really do have something to them.

After carefully reading the entire book, Manus stared at the title page and reflected for a while before silently sighing in admiration.

"These wonderful stories always leave one wanting more, don't they?"

Manus froze and turned toward the source of the voice behind him.

Of course, he knew someone was beside him, but he had not paid attention before.

It was already past three in the afternoon, and there were no shortage of people coming and going through the living room. Sometimes, someone would greet him, and he would respond with a smile and a few polite words, but nothing more came of it.

Only after the other party took the initiative to speak with him did he finally look over—at a thin, tall old man with a white beard. His purple hat and robes were covered in golden stars, giving him a distinctly childlike air.

The man had a high nose, though it was somewhat crooked, as though he had once landed face-first on the ground.

What drew Manus's attention most, however, were the man's eyes.

They were the kind of eyes only a typical spellcaster possessed: blue, tranquil, and profound. They showed that their owner had achieved remarkable attainments in matters of the mind.

At the same time, those eyes possessed a clarity and brightness that made them seem to glow. Through half-moon spectacles, they watched Manus with undisguised kindness, nearly overflowing with warmth. This showed that the man's emotions were always exceptionally abundant.

In the world Manus had come from before transmigrating, the eyes of great mages were usually more restrained, as still as an ancient well, or even like bottomless abysses. Great mages often had to perform immense calculations and enter a state of absolute rationality at any moment.

But considering this world's peculiarities, such emotionally rich and outwardly expressive bearing might instead be the more common trait of top-tier spellcasters here, fitting the man's identity.

Yes, Manus had already recognized him. Just that morning, he had expressed anticipation for the arrival of the owner of this face.

"Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore did not seem surprised that Manus had recognized him, and he even appeared rather proud of it. Still, he said,

"That is indeed me, though I would prefer to hear 'Professor Dumbledore,' especially from the mouth of a child."

"Professor Dumbledore."

Manus readily changed his form of address, and Dumbledore smiled happily. That emotion was just as undisguisedly visible in his eyes.

Dumbledore's beard hung down to his chest, a mass of snowy white with a smooth sheen. It looked carefully groomed, like wool.

He raised a hand and covered his heart through that wool-like beard, letting out a soft sigh of emotion.

"Thank you. Being called that always reminds me what a meaningful and valuable undertaking I am engaged in."