Chapter 607: Mr. Bashat
Chapter 607: Mr. Bashat
When Felix returned to Hogwarts Castle, it was already pitch dark.
He strolled along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, pulling a pocket watch from his pocket with a crisp click. Niffler Warren poked his head out and scampered out.
"Sorry for keeping you in there. No matter what Jim and Rebecca think you are, you’re definitely not a real animal."
"Chirp (It's fine.)."
Warren, who had run ahead, waved a paw back and quickly scurried to a wooden post in front of Hagrid’s Hut. The burly Hagrid was busy in the open space in front of the hut. "Hey, Warren?" He looked pleased, leaning on an oversized shovel and looking around.
"Hey! Felix, Dumbledore’s back. I know you’ve been waiting for this." He called out, "But he looks pretty tired, tangled up with those foreigners!"
"Thanks, Hagrid." Felix waved from a distance, glancing up at the small tower that jutted out from the castle, where a light was on.
A few minutes later, Felix knocked on the door of the Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore was sitting on the sofa, still in his travel cloak, looking exhausted. He straightened up, "Felix? I was just about to look for you. I just got back, and my mouth is terribly dry… tea? Coffee? Juice? Or if you’re feeling adventurous, I have some wine in my collection."
Felix smiled, "I haven’t tried your wine collection yet. Hmm—can I take a bottle to give away?"
"Be my guest, go ahead. I rarely find the right occasion to enjoy them." Dumbledore said, then asked curiously, "For Severus?"
"Taking care of the elderly in the empty house." Felix said with a touch of humor.
"An interesting phrase, I might write that down for future use—though, I doubt I’ll find anyone older than me." Dumbledore pouted, but he didn’t dwell on it for long, shifting to a more relaxed tone, "Your ideas often clash with others, Felix. Perhaps your childhood experiences pushed you to become independent at an early age… oh, sorry."
Felix shook his head slightly, taking a bottle from the wine cabinet. The glass door reflected the stars outside.
Dumbledore snapped his fingers, and two empty wine glasses appeared in the air. They watched as the red wine poured into the glasses, each raising their glass for a sip. Dumbledore smacked his lips in satisfaction, "But Severus isn’t old at all."
Felix raised an eyebrow, "But his life is quite dull, to be honest… probably even more boring than mine."
At least his schedule had room for some entertainment.
He set his glass aside, looking directly at Dumbledore, and said, "Albus, my research has hit a snag. The soul is a rare and taboo subject, and the available information is scarce. We need to take some risks. Think about it, Voldemort’s mental state isn’t that significant—"
Dumbledore gazed at his wine glass, saying nothing. After a moment, he said, "Wait a moment." He walked around his desk, passing through the magical barrier and ascending the spiral staircase to the second floor. He returned shortly with a stack of parchment.
"What’s this?"
"Some of my personal thoughts on the soul." Dumbledore nodded slightly.
Felix took it, flipping through a couple of pages, and ran through the content in his Mind Chamber. His eyes sparkled with excitement, "This is very useful. Some of it aligns with my research, but it’s more comprehensive and in-depth…"
As he spoke, he stared at Dumbledore strangely. When did Dumbledore start delving into the soul?
Does one really delve into more areas as one gets older?
"I received a message today. Grindelwald has disappeared." Dumbledore said solemnly.
"Disappeared?" Felix repeated, processing the information. He raised his hand, "I was not involved. I know nothing about it. If you’re asking, I can only say I’ve exchanged a few letters."
"I know." Dumbledore said briefly.
As Felix pondered the meaning of his words—whether Dumbledore knew he wasn’t involved in Grindelwald’s escape or knew about his correspondence with the Dark Lord—Dumbledore continued, "I’ve contacted a few old friends who still maintain ties with some core Acolytes. They haven’t heard anything yet."
"Even after all these years, there are still people loyal to Grindelwald?" Felix was quite surprised.
If so, why did they let Grindelwald be imprisoned for half a century?
"It’s hard to explain Grindelwald’s influence in a few words", Dumbledore shook his head, his expression serious, "His power was once terrifying. When I was teaching at the school, he had already assembled a Wizard army capable of overthrowing any Ministry of Magic. I had to use all my wits to undermine the foundation of his followers and corner him…"
He changed the subject, "Even though Grindelwald made such grave mistakes, in many people’s hearts, he remains the most suitable leader."
The true history is far from the bland words on paper.
It is alive, vibrant, and real. A few lines in history books can hardly capture a person’s full character and charisma.
Especially for later researchers, the words "very talented, very attractive" could appear anywhere to describe more than one person. But it must be admitted that people are different.
"For now, he's still safe", Dumbledore said softly. "He's under powerful enchantments that I can ensure remain in place, making it difficult for him to use advanced magic. No matter what he wants to do, these conditions set a high bar for him. I'm more worried that losing power might push him to think, to hide in the shadows, to spread his ideology, recruit an army, or stir up conflict with another theory—that would be too dangerous. I even feared he might have swayed you."
"Hmm", Felix mused, thinking he probably hadn't been swayed.
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I only recently realized that excellent people often share many common traits, but what sets you apart is that you dislike trouble and value simplicity. This means you won't be overly drawn to power, because power is complex, and the more power you have, the more complex it becomes."
"What kind of person is Grindelwald? His personality, his appearance—" Felix asked.
"No, Felix, you can't understand. These things are not important at all. It's the ideas, the ideas! You can't imagine how his ideas captivated me, inspired me. Muggles were forced to submit, and we wizards could hold our heads high."
"I once desperately wanted to stand by his side, seeing him as the young leader of this revolution... I was completely enthralled, filled with cruel dreams. I certainly thought about how much harm our dreams might bring to the world, but in the end, I convinced myself with hollow reasons that it was all for the greater good. If I could gain power, I could protect my family, let them live in the sunlight. I could protect many more people, but I was wrong. My lust for power led me astray, making me neglect the people I should have valued most."
Pain flickered on Dumbledore's face, his eyes glistening with tears.
"I think I understand", Felix said gently. "In times of widespread confusion and dissatisfaction with the status quo, ideas can be deadly."
They talked for a long time. Dumbledore no longer avoided discussing his former close friendship with Grindelwald. Perhaps the safety of the night allowed him to admit that he had been tempted, contributing many ideas and wisdom to Grindelwald's evil cause.
Felix poured him a glass of wine and consoled him, "You don't need to blame yourself, Albus. You never put your ideas into practice. Who doesn't have lofty or base thoughts in their youth? Talented and wise people often make bigger mistakes because ordinary matters are unchallenging to them—ruling the world, I've thought about it too."
Dumbledore looked at him in surprise.
Felix shrugged. "I did seriously consider it, but my conclusion was that it wasn't worth it. The cost was too high, and the returns too low."
Dumbledore smiled.
Then he looked down at the wine glass in his hand and sighed. "But what if your ideals can only be achieved through power? Those steadfast, beautiful visions, when you strive tirelessly to reach them, hoping they will become reality... that extreme obsession, perhaps only a colder reality can wake a person up, but what good is it? It's too late."
What people value can be entirely different, even opposite.
Felix understood this, so he didn't mention his own "so-called ideals", because he knew Dumbledore's ideals were fundamentally different from his. He hoped the wizarding and real worlds could merge, but it was just a hope. He could wait and was happy to let others handle it. If things didn't work out, he could withdraw all his efforts without hesitation and wait for the right moment.
When Dumbledore suddenly woke up back then, he must have paid a huge price. So great that merely thinking about his former ideals caused him deep pain, filled with disgust and regret.
Felix thought about the original intention that wasn't often mentioned—Dumbledore's "family."
"Don't worry, Albus. I told him in a letter that times have changed, and his ideas are outdated. Unless he updates... I'd be willing to talk to him. I have one question: if he is severely defeated, will he lash out and kill innocents like Voldemort?"
"Take pleasure in torturing Muggles? No, he won't. He always focuses on his goals. He's an idealist with grand ambitions. The sacrifices along the way are seen as necessary costs."
Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. "I hope he changes. I've heard that he showed remorse while being held alone in Nurmengard, regretting his actions. I hope it's true. Otherwise—"
"The destruction he could cause would far exceed Voldemort's."
...
Time passed quickly, and a week later, Felix had digested the manuscript Dumbledore had given him.
During this time, the wizarding world remained peaceful. No Ministry of Magic in any country was attacked, and no one stood up to announce the reformation of the Acolytes. Everything was normal. Everyone was doing their jobs. After that night, Dumbledore went back to negotiating with representatives from various countries. Besides discussing the damage caused by Voldemort, they now also discussed how to deal with the threat of Grindelwald.
That morning, he went to Spinner's End and unexpectedly encountered the Malfoys at Snape's house, which thwarted Felix's plans. Based on his understanding, Severus would never speak his true thoughts in front of so many people.
However, it wasn't entirely fruitless. In a conversation full of hidden meanings, Felix grasped Lucius's purpose—building connections with fellow spies like Snape. Felix could even infer that Lucius had visited more than one place, such as the Selwyns and other Pureblood families, who were recently on edge.
With just a few words, Felix could earn the loyalty of these people and become their nominal leader.
As long as he didn’t cross their red lines, they would align with Felix. This condition was quite appealing—especially with Voldemort setting a bad example, the Pureblood Families’ red lines were particularly low.
However, Felix would also have to make some concessions, which boiled down to one thing—his name. He had to allow the Pureblood Families to mention his name.
This meant providing a minimal level of protection.
Felix didn’t refuse, as this was precisely the role someone needed to play. Mrs. Bones couldn’t remain in a position of power indefinitely, nor could she imprison innocent people. Giving these people a sense of security would prevent them from fleeing en masse to other countries.
Felix could tolerate the Zabini Family, and Mrs. Bones would have to tolerate the Pureblood Families who posed no threat.
“Why haven’t you moved out of the Safe Room?” Felix asked with interest.
“Not yet, it’s quite comfortable,” Lucius said vaguely.
Felix smiled inwardly. Lucius might have been speaking the truth, but he might also have had another agenda—observing the situation, knowing that Voldemort wasn’t dead.
“Alright, you can stay there for now. It’s empty anyway.”
Lucius seized the opportunity to chat. He talked about their life in the ‘little house,’ speaking as if they were living in a particularly harsh and impoverished area.
“There’s too much stuff. Narcissa and I put some of it in Gringotts, but there’s still more… We’ve been researching the Undetectable Extension Charm to make the house larger while keeping it aesthetically pleasing… Draco, tell Professor….”
Draco put down his fork and said dryly, “We blew up the floor—”
“Cough, cough, cough!” Lucius coughed violently, glaring at his son, and explained, “Narcissa and I aren’t very good at this spell, because—because—”
“It’s not often used,” Felix helped out.
“Uh, right,” Lucius said sheepishly.
After leaving Snape’s house, Felix looked around. The distant, filthy river and the garbage mountain emitted a faint stench, and the overgrown weeds and abandoned, ominous buildings cast dark shadows.
This made it hard for him to feel sympathy for the Malfoys’ difficult life.
Severus likely felt the same way, as his face remained sour when Lucius complained.
Felix even regretted bringing out that bottle of Dumbledore’s wine.
After explaining it was Dumbledore’s prized collection, Snape reluctantly drank half a glass, while Lucius drank enthusiastically.
In the afternoon, Felix strolled through his business on a bustling London street with Winnie Valentine. They unexpectedly ran into Harry, who was accompanied by someone else, not Sirius, but a stranger.
“Professor Hup,” Harry greeted him sullenly. He had tried to pretend he didn’t see them, but the person beside him suddenly spoke up, and before he could react, he felt Professor Hup’s gaze on him.
Felix nodded at Harry, “Looking for books?”
“Oh, no, I’m accompanying Mr. Zabini to buy a cane. He recently moved here and lives alone, so it’s a bit inconvenient for him,” Harry said. In fact, the old man must have been very lonely, living in isolation, as he wasn’t familiar with many modern products and had been catching up recently.
And his personality was a bit extreme…
But when Harry learned of his identity, he felt relieved. He knew that Squibs often had psychological issues.
“Zabini,” Felix pondered the surname.
He sensed a faint magic presence. Was this a wizard? Did Dumbledore know? He extended his hand without showing any reaction, “Hello, Mr. Zabini, I’m Felix Hep.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Heap,” Grindelwald extended his hand, and as their hands met, Felix felt a magic as still as a dead pool, realizing the truth.
A Squib…
Grindelwald revealed a personal wand hidden inside his clothing, saying politely, “I must thank you. Because of you, people like me can return to the stage of history.”
Winnie Valentine looked at him sympathetically.
She felt fortunate to have encountered the invention of the personal wand at a young age. Even if she couldn’t fully harness its power, just being connected to magic again after years of isolation was a relief.
“Indeed, we all genuinely appreciate Mr. Heap,” she said emotionally.
They chatted casually at the crossroads, and Felix learned from Mr. Zabini that he was preparing for an interview later that afternoon.
“Good luck,” Felix said.
“Thanks, I’ve been having good luck lately,” Grindelwald smiled.
(End of Chapter)
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