"What he said makes some sense." A middle-aged man sitting in the corner flipping through a magazine put down his coffee cup and nodded to his companion.
"I had a similar feeling after reading the third book. It was excellent, but compared to the first two, it seemed to be missing something."
"He said the main storyline of the You-Know-Who is missing, and I think that's definitely a valid point."
"Don't you think that's a bit too harsh?" His companion frowned and tapped the table with his knuckles.
"The third book is so well-written! I've read that plot twist several times, and every time I get goosebumps."
"Just because you didn't write about the You-Know-Who, you're going to call this book 'incomplete'?"
"I didn't say it was incomplete; I meant that what he said made some sense."
"What's the point? Wouldn't it get boring if every book featured You-Know-Who? The third book should be a change of pace, something different. Isn't that a good thing?"
Similar debates are unfolding simultaneously in many parts of London.
Outside the flagship bookstore on Oxford Street, a young witch wearing round-framed glasses shoved a magazine in front of her companion, her tone revealing undisguised annoyance.
"Listen to what he wrote? 'A story is just a story after all'?"
"What makes him say that? How is the third book not like a complete novel? It has a beginning, an end, plot twists, and emotions. Which part is missing?"
Her companion took the magazine, flipped through it, and her expression was a mix of amusement and helplessness. "Don't yell at me, I didn't say that."
"But didn't you just say that what he wrote made sense?"
I said 'there's some truth to it,' not 'it's all correct.'
"Even if there's some truth to it, it won't work!" The young witch rolled the magazine in her hand into a tube and waved it in the air.
"He didn't read it carefully at all. If he had, he would have known that although the You-Know-Who didn't appear directly in the third book, his influence was everywhere."
" Black was wrongly accused for twelve years, and because of whom? Wasn't it all because of the You-Know-Who?"
" Peter betrayed the Potters, and because of whom? Wasn't it because of You-Know-Who?"
"Aren't these things extensions of the main plot? Does the You-Know-Who have to personally jump out and fight for the main plot to advance?"
Her words drew agreement from several readers nearby, some of whom even applauded.
However, there are also dissenting voices.
In a secondhand bookstore in Manchester, several regulars sat around an armchair by the fireplace. One of them, an elderly man with a white beard, put down a magazine and began to speak slowly.
"This young man said, 'A story is just a story.' Although that sounds harsh, if you think about it carefully, doesn't it make some sense?"
"What's the logic behind that?" the young man opposite him immediately retorted.
"You see, both the first and second parts have a clear core conflict."
"The first one is The Philosopher's Stone, the second is The Chamber of Secrets. And the third one? Black escapes from Azkaban, and we all thought he was the bad guy, but he wasn't."
"So what is the core conflict of this book? Is it about catching an innocent person who has been wrongly accused? Or proving the innocence of a fugitive? How do these things relate to the entire series?"
"Of course they're related, he's Harry's godfather."
"So what if he's the Godfather? Will there even be a sequel to The Godfather?"
"If we don't write a sequel, wouldn't it be a waste that we spent an entire book developing this character in the third book?"
The young man opened his mouth, wanting to refute something, but couldn't find the right words for a moment.
In Edinburgh, Ian McEwan also read the statement.
He sat in the old leather chair in his study, read the article from beginning to end several times, finally closed the magazine, placed it on his lap, and gently shook his head.
He picked up a notepad from the table, took out a pen, and wrote a short letter to a friend in London. The letter contained only a few lines:
" Martin's article is beautifully written and rigorously argued, but he forgot one thing."
"Novels aren't official documents; you don't need to stamp every chapter with the same seal. Sometimes, changing the seal can actually make it clear how deeply the previous seals were applied."
However, Ian did not send the letter.
After he finished writing, he looked at it and felt that some things were said too soon, so he crumpled the sticky note into a ball and threw it into the wastebasket.
In the editorial office of the Guardian, Harold Larkin read the statement, leaned back in his chair, let out a long sigh, and then picked up the phone on the table and dialed a number.
"Hey, it's me. Help me write a short review for the Astronomy. The title will be... 'Give the story some breathing room'."
What about the content?
"I'll tell you, and you'll remember."
Of all these cacophony, one writer's words have been the most widely circulated.
That was a female author named Deborah Moss, who had written several well-received children's novels and rarely commented on her peers in public.
When asked by a reporter about her opinion on Martin's statement at a small book club, she thought for a moment, put down her teacup, and said one sentence.
"I've been writing novels for twenty years, and one thing I've learned is:"
"If an author focuses on the same theme in every book, that's just getting by; if they occasionally take a detour and write about something different, that's true creation."
" Martin said the third movie went off-topic, but I think the third movie is where the series truly begins to breathe."
The reporter published this quote, accompanied by a photo of Martin and a recent "author's photo" of Allen Wayne (an empty chair), with the headline "Colleagues Don't Buy It."
While the Muggle world was embroiled in a heated debate over the statement, the atmosphere inside Hogwarts Castle was quite different.
In the Defence Against Dark Magic teacher's office, the fireplace burned warmly. Lupin sat behind his desk, a half-finished paper laid out before him, with several corrections marked in red ink along the edges of the pages.
He looked up at Harry standing at the table, his brows furrowing slightly.
"So you mean, you want to ask if it's possible for two different people to have the same Patronus?"
Harry nodded, nodding quickly and forcefully.
Lupin did not answer immediately.
He put the quill back into the ink bottle, interlaced his fingers on the table, looked at Harry with his gray eyes, and remained silent for several seconds.
"Strictly speaking," he finally spoke, his pace much slower than usual, as if carefully choosing each word, "It is indeed possible."
Harry's eyes lit up immediately.
"The form of Patronus is determined by a combination of factors, including the caster's personality, experiences, and emotional traits; it is a projection of these factors onto the magical level."
"If two people have very similar inner qualities, it is theoretically not impossible for their Patronus to take on the same form."
He paused, pulled out a blank piece of parchment, and drew a simple diagram on it with his wand.
Several winding lines radiate outward from the center, with each line ending in a word: personality, experience, belief, emotion, memory.
"You see, the proportions of these things are different on everyone."
"Most people's combinations are unique, therefore most people's Patronus are also unique."
"But if the combination of two people happens to be very similar, then the Patronus that emerges may tend to be the same."
"Is this a common occurrence?" Harry pressed.
"Uncommon." Lupin shook his head, pushing the parchment aside. "In fact, the probability is extremely low."
"I've studied Defence Against Dark Magic for many years, read a lot of literature, and seen quite a few cases, but I've only ever seen two people have the exact same Patronus. I've only ever seen this happen to family members."
He paused for a moment, looking at the somewhat bewildered expression on Harry's face, and softened his tone slightly.
Why would you ask that?