Same Genius, Different Genius

A few minutes later, Dumbledore held the completed timetable in silence.

So the problem that had plagued him for so many days every year, enough to make his hair fall out from worry, could actually be solved even by a seven-year-old child?

Meanwhile, Manus was equally puzzled. He could tell that Dumbledore genuinely found this problem complicated, but how could that be possible?

Without counting electives, and with the restrictions on commuting time added in, the problem had become far simpler than it had been at first.

Even if each professor's requirements were added as well, those requirements were so simple that they did not affect the calculation. He only needed to manually remove a few of the final results.

What was preventing Dumbledore from solving a problem like this?

Was this unique to Dumbledore, or was it common among wizards?

Originally, Manus had only done this so he could take more elective courses at the same time in the future, but now it seemed there might be an unexpected benefit as well.

"Whew..."

Dumbledore put away the parchment and looked at Manus.

"Thank you, Manus. You have helped me tremendously. Can you tell me how you did it?"

"Of course."

Though Manus did not say it aloud, one thought lingered in his mind: he wanted to know how Dumbledore had failed to do it.

As Manus wrote out the mathematical formulas behind his calculations on a fresh piece of parchment, the two discussed this issue and several others that stemmed from it.

In the end, both of them were deeply shocked.

Dumbledore was shocked that Manus did not think like a seven-year-old at all. His mind was clear and calm, even carrying a detached, spectator-like indifference that seemed unaffected by the outside world.

Most importantly, Manus appeared to be a genius. At the very least, he had already displayed maturity and intelligence far beyond his age.

That combination felt far too familiar...

For a moment, Dumbledore lost himself in thought.

Manus, on the other hand, was shocked to discover that magic's intense connection to the mind could produce such a side effect.

Magic was not merely a weapon for battle. It was equally convenient and efficient in daily life, and there was no reason to leave it sitting idle. For powerful spellcasters, magic had already become instinctive. Manus himself was no exception.

Yet the magic of this world was deeply connected to the mind. Because of their talent, even if wizards did not consciously realize it, they still used their minds—or rather, the most superficial and outwardly expressed force within the mind: emotion—to guide their spellcasting.

Once such magic became instinct, wizards became almost incapable of adapting to purely rational thought.

They could still reason logically and understand causal arguments, but they could not cast aside emotional interference to examine problems dialectically. They could only rely on experience and instinct.

Worst of all, they did not even recognize that this problem existed.

Just like now, Dumbledore understood his calculation process. Manus believed Dumbledore would be able to use this method to arrange timetables in the future, but when faced with other problems, Dumbledore would still not think rationally.

Was this caused by habitual patterns of thought, or was magic subtly influencing the mind in return?

It seemed he needed to arrange training in rational thinking and logical reasoning for Severus.

As his only friend of the same age at present, it would be far too regrettable if Severus let his emotions get the better of him in the future and did something irreversible.

On the other side, Dumbledore quickly regained his composure.

A young genius was not, in itself, anything extraordinary. He believed Manus would not follow the same path as Tom—Voldemort.

First of all, Manus was unlike Tom. Manus had a whole family filled with Love. Although the presence of that uncle made the family less than perfect, it was still enough for Manus to feel Love and connection.

Second, he was no longer the man he had been back then...

What Dumbledore had never told anyone was that he deeply regretted what he had done when he first faced Tom.

Back then, as the professor responsible for guiding young wizards from non-magical environments into the magical world, Dumbledore had used power to intimidate—or even threaten—the young Tom into admitting his mistakes.

Dumbledore had once hoped that this would make Tom understand that relying solely on strength to intimidate other children, or even harm them, was not the right path—you could never guarantee that you would be the strongest one.

But Dumbledore had been wrong. Only later did he realize that Tom had seen only one thing in his actions: greater strength truly could dominate everything, and if one could not do so, it simply meant one was not strong enough.

He had also learned that while he was weak, he needed to hide the parts of himself that stronger people would dislike.

And by the time his ambition was exposed without restraint, no one could control his power any longer.

That painful teaching experience had taught Dumbledore that education required gentler methods. All one needed to provide was sunlight, soil, and rain, and a sapling would grow healthy on its own. Watering it the wrong way could not produce the right fruit.

"Do you like this book very much?"

Dumbledore glanced at Talking to Your Wand, which Manus had casually set beside him after finishing it.

Yes, for a child, it was a wonderful book of fables.

Wasn't the little tree growing splendidly already?

"Yes. I only found this book today, but I like it quite a lot."

Manus stroked the cover.

Not knowing in advance about wizards' deficiency in rational thought had made what he had previously considered unremarkable behavior stand out slightly. Fortunately, precisely because wizards were unused to rational modes of thought, Dumbledore had not noticed it.

Since that was the case, it remained within Manus's original plan for shaping his own image. He only needed to continue presenting himself as a genius wizard more outstanding than ordinary people.

"Only found it today?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Then what sort of books do you usually Love to read?"

Why had Dumbledore suddenly become so interested in me?

From this probing question onward, Dumbledore had begun actively extending the conversation. That showed Dumbledore wanted to continue talking with him and learn more about him.

Just a moment ago, although Dumbledore had not been dismissive, he had still been fairly casual and purposeless, ready to end the conversation at any time.

Judging from the current situation, Dumbledore had probably been using him to pass the time, while also using him as an excuse to avoid talking to others.

Had the rational thinking he displayed just now piqued Dumbledore's interest?

Although Dumbledore's habitual way of thinking had not changed, had his instincts still reacted to it?