Time Was Running Out for Gavin

Dumbledore heard the words "Philosopher's Stone," his hand trembled, and the full-sugar coffee in his cup wobbled, almost spilling onto the Parchment on the table.

He quickly placed the cup down, as if nothing had happened. But when he looked up again, his eyes were different.

"What?" He adjusted his glasses. "Mr. Gu, I'm getting old, and my hearing isn't very good."

"I knew it!" Headmaster Black slammed his hand on the table inside the picture frame and shrieked, "Something was definitely wrong with this kid!"

"Shut up, Black, I haven't heard enough."

The image of Headmaster Hufflepuff on the side immediately stopped Headmaster Black; she wanted to continue listening.

"Cordelia," Gavin said, "Or rather, she needs the Philosopher's Stone."

Dumbledore's finger stopped pointing. "What do you mean?"

"I think the Philosopher's Stone can solve the Obscurus."

The office fell silent.

This time, even the portraits remained silent.

Dumbledore looked at him but didn't take it, as if he wanted to see if Gavin would change his mind. Gavin didn't. He sat there calmly, even pushing the glass of Lemonade with too much honey a little further away.

"Do you know what you're saying?" Dumbledore finally spoke.

"I know," Gavin said, "And I didn't do it on a whim."

"You think the Philosopher's Stone can solve the Obscurus? Sorry, I've never heard of such a thing. Can you explain it?"

"That's right. Based on my current research, I think the Philosopher's Stone can play a certain role. And Headmaster, don't you think the existence of a stone that can create gold and the Elixir of Life is rather illogical?"

Dumbledore didn't say anything.

He had agreed with Nicolas that once the matter was over, the Philosopher's Stone would be destroyed cleanly and efficiently, leaving no room for any suspicion from certain individuals.

In the Dungeon, he had clearly taken Gavin's words to heart. Trusting Gavin to some extent, he wanted to see what Gavin would say before destroying the Philosopher's Stone, since the decision was in his hands. He never expected that Gavin would actually use the Philosopher's Stone to deal with Obscurus.

This sounds absurd.

It's ironically something that sounds like something Gavin would say.

"If you're not comfortable with that," Gavin added, "I can use it entirely under your supervision."

Dumbledore's eyes flickered slightly. He had initially suspected that this was Gavin's excuse to get close to the Philosopher's Stone, but now that suspicion was somewhat dispelled.

Are you sure it will work?

"I think it's about 50%," Gavin said.

"Only 50%?"

"That's quite a lot," Gavin said. "Many research groups weren't this optimistic when they started their projects."

"The research group?"

"A form of collective labor reform in the Muggle World," Gavin said. "That's not important. What's important is that I can explain my thinking to you, and you can decide whether to lend me the Philosopher's Stone after you hear it. You might even be able to point out a few flaws in it."

Dumbledore tapped his finger lightly on the table.

"Speak."

Gavin nodded, sitting up a little more upright.

"Let me state the conclusion first," he said. "After your guidance, I have been able to enter Cordelia's Consciousness Space. I can see Cordelia's consciousness, as well as her black Manas Consciousness, which is the Obscurus itself."

Dumbledore looked up at him. "Continue."

"But the problem is, I don't have any authority to make changes. I can't help Cordelia's consciousness escape the Obscurus; I can only be an observer. So I need some kind of medium to help me control Cordelia's consciousness."

"It sounds like you need the Imperius Curse more?" Dumbledore stared intently at Gavin. "Don't tell me you don't know about the Imperius Curse."

"I did consider it," Gavin nodded, not denying it, "But I'm not sure if the Imperius Curse could preserve Cordelia's condition and protect her from negative emotions during her escape, and I've heard that the Imperius Curse has side effects."

"I'm glad you didn't choose Dark Magic." Dumbledore nodded, not delving deeper into the topic of the Imperius Curse. "What about the Philosopher's Stone?"

"The Philosopher's Stone is wondrous. To me, it's more like a super privilege, capable of overriding certain rules, such as transcending the boundaries of Transfiguration, to create gold."

"So?"

"So I want to try using the Philosopher's Stone to rewrite Cordelia's Consciousness Space, so she won't just be a spectator anymore."

Dumbledore finally spoke, "This doesn't sound like 'borrowing'."

"That's why I was being very polite just now."

Dumbledore didn't laugh, "What do you intend to do?"

"The current idea is a two-step process," Gavin said. "First, we'll confirm whether the Philosopher's Stone can affect the Consciousness Space of the Obscurial, and then we'll consider whether we can transfer this effect to Cordelia."

How do I confirm this?

"Try it on the Obscurial first."

"We have no second Obscurial."

"Who said there isn't?" Gavin said.

Dumbledore stared at him, a sudden, ominous feeling creeping over him: "You're not thinking of—"

"I will become the second Obscurial."

Dumbledore silent; this was already the umpteenth time he had fallen silent today.

The portrait artists looked at Dumbledore, then at Gavin, and no one said a word. Mainly because things had progressed to this point, even they didn't know whether to say, "Kid, are you crazy?" or "This idea actually sounds somewhat reasonable."

Dumbledore withdrew his hand from the table and slowly leaned back in his chair. "Although you've succeeded once, it doesn't mean you'll be safe the second time."

Gavin said with great certainty, "So this time I need your help throughout, and it will only be easier this time."

Dumbledore gave him a deep look. "Are you sure, Gavin?"

"It's alright, Professor," Gavin casually. "I've already been Obscurial once. It's just another one. I'm very familiar with it."

"This is not a nighttime kitchen visit," Dumbledore said.

"Indeed." Gavin nodded, then told a corny joke, "At least there's a midnight snack in the kitchen."

This remark did little to lighten the mood; at least Dumbledore didn't laugh.

"The Philosopher's Stone isn't so easy to control," he said. "Even if you've practiced many times, you still have to endure the Obscurus state, control that raging Magic, and also distract yourself by guiding the Philosopher's Stone. Do you know what that means?"

"Of course, that requires a lot of willpower," Gavin said. "Relax, Principal. Actually, we can start with something simpler, like trying to modify the Consciousness Space of ordinary people."

"Gavin."

"I know," Gavin said, his joking tone fading. "I know it's dangerous."

Dumbledore felt no relief; he felt Gavin treated danger as casually as if it were raining tomorrow. He closed his eyes in anguish.

Ariana's name was never mentioned by anyone, yet it lingered in Dumbledore's mind, along with the word Obscurus.

For many years, Ariana's death had been a deep wound in his heart, causing him to miss his lover, break with his brother, and begin to loathe his own arrogance.

He accomplished nothing back then.

Now, a first-grader is sitting in front of him, speaking calmly and thinking clearly, even ready to be the experimental subject.

It has to be said, he's kind, intelligent, and also a bit reckless. Since he's already prepared, what reason do I have to stop him? What he couldn't do back then, maybe this kid can really achieve?

"Professor?" Gavin called out to him.

Dumbledore opened his eyes.

"You can refuse now if you want," Gavin said. "I can think of other ways, although they'll probably be less effective."

Dumbledore looked at him. "Are you forcing me?"

"I'm trying my best," Gavin said. "And to be honest, I don't think you're completely unmoved."

Dumbledore smiled, realizing he'd been seen through by a child. "You certainly know how to talk."

"Thank you, I'll try to use it appropriately."

"I haven't agreed yet."

Dumbledore stared at him for a long while, then finally reached out and tapped the table.

"Since you insist, let's begin, son," he said. "I will do everything I can to help you."

Gavin's previously tense shoulders finally relaxed a little.

"Good."

"Don't get too excited yet," Dumbledore said. "If I sense anything is wrong during the process, I'll stop it immediately."

"Can."

"You must follow instructions completely."

I'll try my best.

"It can't be 'as much as possible'."

"... All right."

In the days that followed, Gavin rarely appeared in the Great Hall or the Common Room.

All the professors received a notification from Dumbledore that Gavin had other plans, and that he would have to Resit Exam his exams next year along with the students who had failed.

Ernie and Justin never saw Gavin return to the dorm while they were awake again.

In the Headmaster's Office, the Philosopher's Stone sat on a small table covered with a thick felt cloth, like an overly quiet heart. Gavin sat opposite it, Dumbledore sat on the other side, his Wand never leaving his hand.

The first time Gavin practiced, the silverware in the room began to tremble as soon as he approached the stone.

The second time, one of the Ink Bottle exploded by itself.

The third time, Quill in the office floated up and flew everywhere. The portrait artists cursed for a long time, but in the end, Dumbledore had to wave his hand to put them down.

"Are you sure you're practicing control, and not dismantling offices?" a former principal couldn't help but ask.

"This shows there's still room for improvement," Gavin said.

"I hate students who make excuses like this."

"But you just said you liked him."

"I've changed my mind now."

Gavin ignored the portrait and stared at the stone on the table.

Dumbledore watched as sweat slowly beaded on his forehead, then suddenly said, "Stop."

Gavin didn't move.

"Stop, Gavin."

"Just one more time." Gavin stared at the stone, his voice a little strained. "I almost—"

"Stop."

This time, Dumbledore's tone was very stern.

Gavin's fingers trembled, and he finally sat back down. The Philosopher's Stone on the table quieted down, and the silverware around it, which had just begun to stir, slowly stopped moving as well.

Dumbledore got up and handed him a glass of water.

Gavin took it and drank half a glass in one gulp before his hands stopped shaking so much.

"You almost split the office in two just now," Dumbledore said.

"It's not that exaggerated."

"You have practiced many times," Dumbledore said, "But it is not enough. The Philosopher's Stone is not so easily mastered."

"I know."

"You don't know," Dumbledore shook his head, "This is only the first step, attempting to manipulate the Magic of the Philosopher's Stone."

Gavin down and swirled the glass of water in his hand. "That's why we need to keep practicing."

Dumbledore looked at him for a while, but ultimately did not try to persuade him further.

Because he knew that persuasion would be useless.

Once this child has made up his mind about something, it's usually impossible to stop him by persuasion. All you can do is help him make more thorough preparations so that he doesn't actually kill himself.

"We'll continue tomorrow," Dumbledore said.

"Good."

"Go home and sleep tonight."

"I can Meditation-- "

Go to sleep.

Gavin shut up.

Meanwhile, the situation in St. Mungo's, Cordelia, is not optimistic.

At first, I just got tired more easily. Later, I would feel dizzy if I stood for a long time. And then, I even felt a heaviness in my chest when I woke up in the morning.

She noticed that the Healer, Vittel, who came to check on her that morning, looked very unwell.

So she asked very softly, "How much longer do I have?"

Healer Vittel hesitated for a moment. He wanted to say, "Don't overthink it," and then, "Things might not happen that quickly," but in the end, he gave in under Cordelia's gaze.

"Maybe..." he said in a low voice, "About a month."

Cordelia nodded. "Okay."

Vittel hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Should I inform Professor Dumbledore?"

Cordelia shook her head.

"But..." Vittel wanted to say something more.

Cordelia said softly, "I don't want to bother him anymore. Telling him won't change anything."

Vittel remained silent, and finally could only nod in agreement.

She didn't cry or say anything more; she just sat on the edge of the bed for a long time after returning to the ward.

It's getting warmer outside.

Spring is almost over, and summer is just around the corner.

She might not live to see July 12th.

Gavin wrote a letter two weeks ago saying that there were some things to do at school and he might not be able to come recently. The letter was very short, almost like a note that was hastily slipped in.

Cordelia initially thought he was being perfunctory, but the next day she folded the letter and put it inside her copy of "Sapiens: Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind".

It's been two weeks now, and he hasn't shown up or sent any more letters.

She wanted to wait a little longer, until Saturday, until the next visiting day, until that beautiful-eyed Owl landed back by the window, but she waited and waited, and still nothing happened.

Finally, she sat down at the table, spread out the Parchment, picked up Quill, and began to write a letter.

The first line was written very slowly.

Gavin:

She paused for a moment.

There were voices outside the window, and the sound of a cart rolling across the floor echoed down the corridor to the end. Dibby quietly tidied up the cups beside her, watching her stare blankly with a pen in her hand, her ears drooping slightly.

Cordelia lowered her head and wrote another sentence.

You said something happened at school.

She thought for a moment, crossed it out, and rewrote it.

Are you very busy lately?

It stopped again.

That wasn't good either; it sounded too much like a complaint. She didn't want the letter to look like a complaint, so she crossed it out and started over with a new sheet of paper.

Could you come over anytime soon?

The pen nib lingered on the paper for a moment before slowly adding the second half of the sentence.

I kind of want to see you.

After finishing writing, Cordelia stared at the line for several seconds, her ears gradually turning red.

"Dibby." She folded the letter, handed it to her, and said, "Send it."

Dibby took the letter and looked up at her. "Miss, Mr. Gu will definitely reply."

Cordelia pursed her lips. "It would be best."

After she finished speaking, she turned to look out the window.

The window was empty; there were no Owl, and no one was there.

Only summer is getting closer and closer.