A Certain Hogwarts Magician Professor

In the round room of the principal's office.

Dumbledore was sitting in a chair behind the long-legged table, looking down at a wand. He looked tired, especially from Harry's point of view, the wrinkles on his face as obvious as the brown shells left on a boiled egg.

"Good evening, sir." Harry broke the silence.

"Ah, good evening, Harry." Dumbledore looked up from under the half-moon glasses - which made the wrinkles on his forehead even more visible, and said with a smile: "Sit down, Poppy told me you were out of the hospital today. , I thought it would be a good idea to move the course to next week."

Harry didn't know how to answer, he said "um" and moved a chair across from Dumbledore.

"Poppi said you're fine, but I wanted to make sure for myself - you're not feeling any more discomfort, are you?"

"No," said Harry hastily, brushing the hair from his forehead, where the scar was covered with a thin blood scab, "it hasn't caused me any trouble since I woke up, but my nose has been itchy, Madam Pomfrey kept track of it for two days, until I found Ginny's Pygmy Puff under the bed...I think it was the Resurrection Stone." He took the black gemstone ring off his hand and put it on the table .

"I can't use it now, sir."

Dumbledore smiled and listened with interest.

"The time at the school hospital is really tough... So your friend gave you a travel journal? I read two pages, and it seems to be a long time ago."

"Well," said Harry cautiously, "I found it in the library during the Christmas break... Ron knew I was reading this book recently, so he brought it to pass the time."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

"Whose wand is this, sir?" Harry couldn't help asking, looking at the white wand on the table, which seemed to be made of some kind of creature's bone, with one end of the handle carved into a beast's claw shape with irregular spikes.

"This is yew, and its core is made of phoenix feathers—" Dumbledore turned his eyes to the side, and Harry followed his gaze. Fox was resting on the perch, and a light flashed in Harry's mind. In a flash, he blurted out:

"Is this Voldemort's wand?"

His voice was so loud that Fox was awakened, and it glanced at Harry angrily, hiding its head in its wings. The portrait of the headmaster hung on the wall of the circular office surreptitiously looking up at them.

"It's Voldemort's wand," Dumbledore repeated: "On Christmas Day in your fourth year, Felix and I raided Voldemort's hideout. He was still alive and had to flee in embarrassment. This is one of the spoils."

Harry stared reluctantly at the yew wand with which Voldemort killed his parents and left himself an incurable scar...

"Harry, Harry!"

Harry came to his senses and saw Dumbledore put his wand in the drawer.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry whispered.

"Don't say I'm sorry, Harry." Dumbledore paused for a moment, then said in a more formal tone: "I think you already know why we sit together on weekend nights, although if you want to chat with me to relieve my boredom Also welcome, but obviously we have a more important mission."

"Yes, I know," said Harry. "For the soul fragments in my head, you said you had a way."

"Yeah, that's it," Dumbledore said. "You'll see that my approach is slightly different from Felix's, and I need you to be more involved and know what you're going to do, and for that we need— "

He stretched out his hand, and the cabinet door behind Harry snapped open, and a shallow stone basin flew out of it and landed firmly on the table between the two.

"— Pensieve," he finished.

Harry stared blankly at the Pensieve, not understanding the connection, and he asked tentatively, "Are you asking me to learn something?" Like some kind of advanced magic, Harry guessed.

"To be precise, to witness something." Dumbledore said, shaking his finger at him, a small crystal bottle the size of a thumb appeared in the raised hand, he unscrewed the cork, put the inside The silver memory that swirled and floated like cotton wool was poured into the stone basin.

"Whose memory is this, sir?" Harry asked curiously.

"Mine," said Dumbledore briefly. "Let's go in and talk. I have to allow enough time for discussion. You come first."

Harry took a deep breath, plunged his head into the Pensieve's memory, and as he continued to fall, he found a solid touch under his feet, and he opened his eyes and searched. Because according to past experience, the owner of the memory must be nearby.

Then he saw it.

In front of him was a small gray village, with low and dilapidated houses, with a sense of age, surrounded by patches of green and brown. But that's not the point. He found a little boy with reddish-brown hair under a big tree, about eight or nine years old, who was staring at his palm very intently.

Harry took a few steps closer to realize that he had misread, the boy had a leaf floating in his hand. Harry was pretty sure the boy wasn't chanting any spells, but the leaves kept changing colors.

"That's me." At this time, Dumbledore appeared next to Harry and introduced.

They watched silently for a few minutes, and the scene never changed, which made Harry feel a little irritable, and he also discovered the first virtue of the boy - or Dumbledore in his childhood, patience.

The boy had apparently been here for a long time, as can be seen from the pile of leaves of different colors beside him. But he hasn't shown any impatience, and he's now fixed the leaves between red and brown, constantly tweaking the subtle color changes.

Harry suddenly realized that the boy was planning to make the leaves the same color as his own hair.

"Albus! Albus - dinner."

Another little boy appeared. He looked two or three years younger than Albus, who was sitting under the tree. The two wore similar clothes, but the latter one got himself dirty. Although his hair was also reddish-brown, he still looked Very messy and awkward.

"That's my brother, Aberforth," said Dumbledore in good time.

Aberforth ran all the way, panting and flushed, "Albus, it's time to eat!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "Just a moment—it'll be right away," Albus said, and after more than ten seconds, he finally stopped with a satisfied smile on his face.

Now the leaf was finally the exact color of his hair.

"Let's go," he said lightly.

"Ah, you're secretly practicing magic again!" Aberforth seemed to have just reacted and shouted loudly, "I'm going to tell my parents, wait for you to be taught a lesson!"

"Then you can't get colored leaves."

"This is for me?"

Aberforth asked in surprise, and was about to reach for it, but was avoided by Albus.

"I've prepared several pure colors, but—let Ariana choose first." Albus said and stood up, and together they walked along a dirt road to the village.

"Let's follow, Harry," Dumbledore whispered, and Harry found his voice trembling unnaturally. "I'll introduce you to my family..."

As they passed the sign, Harry saw a rough piece of wood with the name of the village: Fertile Land.

He couldn't help but wonder: didn't the Dumbledore family live in Godric's Hollow? He had seen it in his mother's letter to Sirius, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. Could it be that the Dumbledore family moved there later?

He was about to ask a question, but seeing that Dumbledore's eyes were wet, Harry fell silent. They silently followed behind the pair of young brothers in front, and Harry couldn't help but guess where they lived. Looking far away, he chose the one that best suited his aesthetics among the various grey and flamboyant little houses. Yes, and he swears the outside of the house bears the hallmarks of a wizard's life in many details.

He moved forward confidently, but the brothers took a detour, and just when Harry suspected he had guessed wrong, he saw a beautiful back garden, blocked by a tight hedge.

"Ariana! We're back!" cried Aberforth.

Harry heard a rush of footsteps, he couldn't help but quicken his steps, and was about to be side by side with the two brothers he remembered. There was a rustling sound, and the tall, thick hedge was divided into narrow gaps, and a pair of timid eyes were revealed.

"Sir, this is—"

Harry looked back to find Dumbledore stopped far away, with an unfamiliar flinch and longing on his face. Harry suddenly had a strange idea, maybe Dumbledore was afraid that he would face this scene alone, so he specially called him here.

...

Felix sat in the Three Broomsticks bar with a glass of iced lemonade on the table.

He had been there for a while, and Mrs. Rosemerta, the bartender, came over and said through gritted teeth, "Mr. Hepp, you can't bring those guys here, I've got a business to do!"

"But I paid, Ms. Rosemerta."

"That's right... but they scared my other guests away, and what if they tried to bite me tonight? I haven't slept well these days, I'm not complaining... But today is so special, Wan Wan As soon as they suddenly go crazy, I don't have the skills you have."

"It's really embarrassing for you, it's better to double the consumption during this time, and - I will take them away in a while. Like you said, they are indeed a little dangerous today."

"Really?" Mrs. Rosmerta's eyes lit up, looking relieved. "You should have done this a long time ago, but the double payment is exempted. As long as you can come a few times more often, many people expect to see you here." She covered her mouth and said with a smile.

"I don't know when I became so popular." Felix said quietly.

"Recently," said Mrs. Rosmerta earnestly, "like Carlotta Pinkstone—yes, I know this woman, she's been with me for a while, but I don't know now. where have you been..."

"Compared to her, I prefer the female Auror whose hair changes color. The jokes she tells about witches, healers and Mibu Mibao are simple. Forgive me for not understanding it at the time. She seemed to be sulking about it for half an hour. , if I run into her and tell me, her jokes are very funny..."

Felix blinked and said, "I will."

Mrs. Rosmerta turned around and left, and a free glass of fire whiskey was served shortly after, but Felix didn't have a few sips, and people came downstairs one after another. These people seemed to be carved out of a mold:

Wearing tattered, patched clothes, looking haggard and gloomy, looking around nervously. They are the people Felix invited over, werewolves. But when Felix waved to them, instead of relaxing, they became more vigilant.

"Okay, everyone." Felix snapped his fingers, and slammed a dozen heavy purses on the table. "For the sake of Jin Galleon, I ask you to follow me in a row. I am here. A temporary home has been set up for you on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, where you will spend the next week."

Felix headed out.

A group of werewolves looked at each other in dismay, and the man didn't give them a chance to speak. After a stalemate for a while, a tall and burly man came out, grabbed a purse and looked inside. The others found that his face seemed to be illuminated by a bright light.

Gudong!

The man swallowed, put the bag in his arms, and walked out. The other werewolves followed silently.

...

Just before the lights went out, Harry came back with a lost face, and even a little panicked. He read the password twice as if he was sleepwalking. The portrait of the fat lady was unscrewed. .

"Harry, what's the matter with you?" Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"Hermione? I'm fine," Harry muttered.

"How could it be okay, we were standing at the door just now, but you completely ignored us, and Ron called you twice." Hermione said softly, and Ron nodded, indicating that what she said was true.

"What did Dumbledore teach you?" Ron asked eagerly. "But whatever it is, I'm guessing it must be very hard, you look a bit like Luna," he said, staring at the look on Harry's face.

Harry still shook his head, "He showed me some memories, um, I'm not sure... Anyway, let's talk about it tomorrow, good night." Then he wanted to go inside, and now he just wanted to lie on the bed, a People are quiet.

But he was held back again, this time it was Ron - the fat lady didn't seem very happy: "You can't get in!" - "Don't go, we're going to the courtyard." Ron looked slightly Confused, Harry winked at him, "It's a full moon today."

"Full moon?" Harry said blankly, taking a moment to understand the meaning of the sentence.

"Yeah, I don't think you're going to give up the Animagus, are you? You can also get a mandrake blade for free," said Ron, frowning, "but I can't, both. When it runs out, I'll have to help Sprout with a month's labor...or pay for it myself, but I guess since there's one in the school...Hermione is because—"

"I feel the throbbing of Animagus," Hermione said briefly.

"Great!" Harry gave a thumbs up.

"Are you laughing at me? I know." Hermione glared at Harry fiercely. Harry found Ron quietly fiddling with his fingernails and muttered, "Well--while you were in class, something interesting happened. Hermione was showing off to me, and I couldn't help it-- "

"I'm not showing off!" Hermione shrieked, leading her way downstairs.

Ron and Harry exchanged a meaningful look.

"Perhaps Hermione should also hear your unique take on character flaws, Harry," said Ron.

"I don't want to cause trouble," Harry said immediately.

They came to the courtyard, where Professor McGonagall and some of the students were already waiting. But Harry was keenly aware that a few fewer people came today than the first time. "A few gave up." Hermione whispered, and she turned her head to look around, "Why didn't you see Professor Hepp?"

This question, Professor McGonagall told them when handing out the Mandrake blades.

"Your Professor Hepp is on leave. He has important business to deal with."

"At this time?" whispered Ernie McMillan. "It doesn't sound believable."

"But it's true," said Professor McGonagall sternly. "If I were you, I'd spend more time practicing, McMillan."

After sending out the new Mandrake Leaf, and after listening to the precautions, the students dispersed, Hermione reported their latest progress to Professor McGonagall, and then they returned to the castle.

On the way, Hermione mentioned Dumbledore's class again, and Harry was very fortunate that he had a mandrake leaf in his mouth, which gave him an excuse to talk less, although the leaf in his mouth had little influence. to myself.

He briefly chatted with Ron and Hermione, and then went back to the dormitory. Leaving Ron and Hermione looking at each other.

"Did his class not go well?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Maybe Dumbledore showed Harry some shocking memory that he couldn't accept for a while..." Hermione whispered, "Although I can't guess what it will do to Harry's scar, it must be Dumbledore He has his reasons. We will ask more carefully tomorrow."

In the dormitory, Harry lay on the bed, feeling that something inside of him had collapsed.

Everything was good at the beginning. He and Dumbledore spent half an hour in reality watching the former Dumbledore family have dinner and exchange gifts. The atmosphere was generally pleasant and enviable. A memory, their situation took a turn for the worse, not only did they move house, but the smile on their faces disappeared, the youngest Arianna was nervous, Aberforth always clenched his fists when no one was there, and his eyes were burning with anger; Albus was even quieter, only a trace of grief flashed in his eyes as he looked at his sister...

And most importantly, the master is gone.

"...when Ariana was six years old, she was conjuring in the garden, and three Muggle boys saw it through the hedge, while the ignorant witch-hunting idea was still spreading in the backcountry, and they were terrified, but also gave birth to Brutal courage attacked her. Since then, Ariana has been severely traumatized and can no longer control her magical powers, and my father was so angry that he went to the Muggles to settle accounts and taught them a hard lesson, And then...he was imprisoned in Azkaban, and we, alas, we chose to leave that sad place, and no one could have foreseen the greater tragedy that awaited us..."

The first class ended when young Albus received his acceptance letter from Hogwarts.

Dumbledore didn't ask Harry to keep it secret, which seemed to mean he could tell Ron and Hermione, but he only said something innocuous, and he felt it was his duty to keep Headmaster Dumbledore's past a secret, as if It is a kind of blasphemy to his great personality to let people know his tragic experience.

He didn't know why he thought so, nor why Dumbledore let him see this. From Harry's point of view, Dumbledore seemed to show his experience bloody to his students in a cruel way. .

He stared at the full moon outside the window and seemed to hear a wolf howling. Of course Harry didn't know that, far outside of Hogsmeade, a dozen werewolves were undergoing a collective transformation.