Chapter 609: Pleasant Changes
Chapter 609: Pleasant Changes
The cheerful conversation between the two left Professor Mcgonagall thoroughly confused. She let out a dissatisfied snort, her tone sharp.
"So, I won't have the pleasure of witnessing a duel between colleagues?"
"Minerva", Felix said with a smile, "I had a small misunderstanding with Mr. Bashaat, stemming from my vague perception of his role... but now, I look forward to working with him."
Professor Mcgonagall looked skeptical.
"You knew each other before?"
"Only through letters", Grindelwald replied calmly, "I intended to keep the surprise until the start of the school year." He tapped his cane on the ground, "Sometimes, one must admit that older people have more patience."
"I believe the opposite", Felix said gently but with a sharp edge.
Professor Mcgonagall pursed her lips, "Honestly, we should—well, Mr. Bashaat, please follow me—" Grindelwald nodded at Felix and followed her. As they passed each other, Valen, who had been hiding on Felix's shoulder, jumped out, one hand on his hip, the other pointing at Grindelwald, fuming.
Grindelwald's steps faltered slightly as he walked away.
After a few seconds, Felix turned to watch them leave, then strode toward the Headmaster's Office. Dumbledore opened the door more slowly than usual, pausing by the window to gaze at the distant, lush mountains.
When he turned around, Felix saw a forlorn expression on Dumbledore's face, his eyes seemingly misty. Swallowing the question that was on the tip of his tongue, Felix asked instead, "Albus, is the curse on your hand gone?"
"I found no reason to keep it", Dumbledore said lightly.
"But I noticed you still wear that ring. You seem to like it?" Felix searched for a topic.
Dumbledore looked down at the ugly ring on his finger, his hand unconsciously caressing the black gemstone. He smiled faintly, "Who doesn't like an old, significant heirloom? It brings back memories. I met the last surviving member of the Gaunt family, no, not Voldemort, but his uncle, Morfin. Through Morfin's memories, I saw Voldemort's mother and grandfather."
"What were they like?" Felix asked, intrigued.
"To be honest, a terrible family", Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, "Marvolo, his son Morfin, and daughter Merope—they had a habit of marrying within the family, leading to various personality flaws that made it impossible for them to improve their lives. They lived in abject poverty, with Merope being slightly better off, but her two relatives... let me be fair, they lacked rationality, had terrible tempers, and were incredibly aggressive. They were arrogant and self-important to the point of being unreasonable."
"And stubborn", Felix added.
"Exactly, that might be the root of the problem. They were so stubborn they refused to change", Dumbledore agreed, "It's a common ailment in most ancient families, clinging to their ancestors' honor but doing nothing to maintain it. Their minds and bodies become as rigid as ghouls.
Whenever a member of these families showed a bit of reason and courage, they would find a way to escape, never to return. Merope did this, and the mother of one of Slytherin's other descendants, the founder of Ilvermorny, did the same."
A moment of silence followed.
Felix waited quietly, and sure enough, Dumbledore spoke.
"I owe you an explanation", he said softly, "Gellert... his physical condition is poor, years of imprisonment have destroyed his health. Even if he is completely freed from magical constraints, he won't return to his peak. His overall strength might not even match Alastor's... I admit I felt a bit soft-hearted. He will stay at the school for a year, then return to Nurmengard."
"During this time, I will keep a close eye on him."
Felix understood Dumbledore's complex feelings toward his old friend and rival, and he nodded silently, "What is his goal? Simply to teach, or..."
"Ah, we've hit the crux of the matter", Dumbledore said, "He has shown a strong curiosity about you, and mentioned Professor Burbage. If I'm not mistaken, he will visit the Greenhouse soon!"
"Uh—"
Although Dumbledore's tone was free of blame, Felix felt rather uncomfortable.
This was largely his doing. He knew Grindelwald was a proud man, evident from the tone of his letters, but Felix had not shown any respect for the elder. Instead, he had introduced Grindelwald to the new changes in the magical world under various pretenses, using phrases like 'you might not know' and 'that didn't exist back then' frequently.
This likely touched a sensitive nerve in Grindelwald—intense frustration.
This frustration had little to do with knowledge, wisdom, or temperament. It was purely because he had been isolated for so long, falling behind an entire era. He could only passively accept the facts Felix presented, unable to counter them.
His life had stagnated in 1945, and it ended in failure. As long as he remained in Nurmengard's prison, this would never change.
Now, he could no longer contain himself and ran out.
Felix felt a bit ashamed, though this shame vanished in an instant.
"Um, Albus, there's something you should know. Grindelwald seems to be getting along well with Harry. I saw Harry taking him to buy a new wand..."
Dumbledore's head snapped up. "Is that true?"
Felix shrugged.
Dumbledore hurried away, and Felix could easily imagine what would happen next: Grindelwald would be forced to stay at the castle, away from Harry. Because—just as Dumbledore feared—Grindelwald's ideas were toxic.
"Tch."
Felix whistled happily, wandering around the Headmaster's Office, which was empty. The portraits of past Headmasters, who had been sleeping in their frames, now opened their eyes and began whispering to each other.
"Dumbledore will pay the price for his kindness", a witch with long silver curls said pessimistically.
"He's being irrational", another yellow-faced wizard chimed in.
"We should trust Dumbledore's judgment. He is the wisest among us. And don't forget the prophecy that person mentioned", a frail-looking old wizard said slowly.
Felix, who had been trying to stroke Fawkes' beautiful golden-red feathers, perked up at the mention of a prophecy.
"Shh!" a portly wizard with a red nose shouted.
The portraits fell silent, realizing Felix was there and unwilling to reveal any more secrets.
"Ahem." Felix listened for a moment, then strolled over and tapped the frame of the silver-haired witch. "Excuse me, ma'am, the prophecy you mentioned—"
A loud, realistic snore filled the air, and he even saw drool at the corner of the witch's mouth.
Felix: "..."
He moved to the portrait of the red-nosed wizard, who fell face-down on the table, snoring like thunder. Soon, all the portraits 'fell asleep,' but Felix noticed they were secretly watching him from under their eyelids.
"Don't ask, you naughty boy. We won't tell you a thing", Phineas Black's portrait said smugly. "Unless you're the Headmaster, we won't listen to you. And you have a long way to go before you reach that position..."
He pointed to the Headmaster's chair behind the long-legged desk, his attitude clear.
Felix hummed lightly.
"Hasn't Sirius told you? I have a good relationship with the current Minister of Magic. Getting access to the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries is a piece of cake. They keep copies of all the prophecies there."
"Try it if you want", Phineas Black's portrait said with a sly grin.
Felix stood frozen, uncertain. "There can't be... any difference. I mean, all the prophecies are recorded there. There can't be any exceptions, right? You're lying to see me disappointed. I won't give you that satisfaction..."
Phineas Black's portrait sneered.
"Muggle-born, you know so little. Many things are not recorded, they are passed down by word of mouth. Understand? Has no one told you that prophecies aren't just spoken words, but—"
"Shut up! You fool", one of the pretending-to-sleep portraits finally shouted.
"Not just spoken words..." Felix muttered, pondering the meaning. "What else could it be? Perhaps something that needs interpretation, like tea leaves, a crystal ball, or star charts", he glanced at Phineas Black, who was being threatened by a wand from a female Headmaster who had interjected.
"Or a brief vision? A scene from the future?"
Felix remembered receiving a false prophecy once, which was a short vision, a snippet of a memory... Even with the Time-Turner, who's to say this isn't a form of prophecy? And Felix believed this method was far more reliable than formal prophecies.
He left the Headmaster's Office and, as expected, saw Dumbledore returning with a serious expression, Grindelwald by his side.
"I've met many people recently... Are you planning to go through each one and correct their thoughts?"
"If necessary", Dumbledore said calmly.
Grindelwald fell silent, watching Felix descend the stairs and stop.
"Tattling to the teacher? A child's trick", he said, tilting his head.
"Simple and effective, isn't it?" Felix smiled. "Sorry, I have a concert to attend... Too bad you can't come, Mr. Bashaat. I'll share my experience with you later, just like before."
Grindelwald glared at him fiercely.
"Felix!" Dumbledore said sternly, interrupting their not-so-friendly exchange. He was now quite troubled. "Felix, for the rest of the summer, Mr. Bashaat will stay at the school. Could you go fetch his luggage?"
He emphasized the surname "Bashaat."
"Happy to help, sir", Felix said with a grin. "If I run into Harry, I'll let him know that his new friend can't come back for a while—well, for some reason."
Dumbledore left with Grindelwald.
He was already regretting this hasty decision. From the start, it had shown numerous obstacles. Once school resumed, he had to ensure Grindelwald wouldn't spread dangerous ideas. He would need to sit in on a few classes. These were troubled times, and he didn't have the luxury of following Grindelwald through all seven years. Grindelwald didn't have the energy for that either. Perhaps hiring another Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was a good idea...
On the other side, Felix certainly didn't go to the concert, as it wasn't today.
He rang the doorbell at 4 Privet Drive.
Given his last visit had been unpleasant and he hadn't even finished introducing himself, he put some thought into his appearance. He changed his hairstyle, clothes, and most importantly, put on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, making him look like a successful professional.
The door was opened by Vernon Dursley, a large, almost neckless man with bloodshot eyes and a poor mental state, as if he hadn't slept well in days. "What—?" he barked, but when he saw Felix's expensive attire, his voice dropped nervously. "Hello? Who are you—?"
"Felix Hep, I hope I'm not intruding", Felix said, lifting the gift box in his hand. When Vernon saw the price tag, his eyes widened. "I have important business—well, can I come in and talk?"
"Of course, of course", Vernon Dursley said, opening the door with a friendly tone. He stared greedily at the wristwatch Felix inadvertently revealed. "I suppose it's worth at least twenty thousand pounds?"
"Perhaps. I didn't notice", Felix said nonchalantly as he walked in.
"Stop!" Vernon suddenly shouted behind him, his eyes bulging with bloodshot veins. But Felix had already entered the living room and turned around. Had he been discovered?
"What's wrong?"
A thin, long-necked woman emerged from the kitchen, holding a spoon, looking confused. Their son, Dudley Dursley, was sprawled on the sofa, engrossed in a comic book. The family seemed perfectly normal, except for—
The comic book!
Petunia's eyes widened in fear and anger. Those weird, moving, damned comic books! She froze, unsure what to do. Her husband, standing in the narrow hallway, made exaggerated gestures to prevent the guest from noticing. She quickly walked over, forcing a stiff smile to try and block Dudley—though it was futile; her son was at least twice her size and three times her weight.
Felix handed over the gift box.
"Is that your child? What's his name?"
"Y-yes, Dudley—Dudley—Dudders!" Petunia's voice trembled. She had never felt so desperate, even more so than when she discovered her son's secret a few days ago while cleaning the room.
Dudley was completely absorbed in his book.
The comic seemed to have a magical quality; every time he opened it, he couldn't help but read on. He was thoroughly enjoying it—since he had been caught, he didn't need to hide anymore—Mick, a young wizard, accidentally blew up the birthday cake his friend had prepared for him, and he was desperately trying to find excuses.
"What's up?" he asked lazily. "Is it dinner time?"
The lack of an immediate, enthusiastic response was unusual.
He looked up and saw a young man examining him with interest. He seemed familiar... for some reason, he thought of the magic world's ice mice, which, according to the book, came from Honeydukes.
Mom had her eyes closed in agony, and Dad's face was as red as a liver.
What's going on... Dudley suddenly widened his eyes. His book! He leapt from the sofa like a beached whale, but it was futile. His body had an incredible shock-absorption quality, and he landed back on the groaning sofa with a thud.
But the book flew up.
Four pairs of eyes followed the comic book as it arced through the air and landed precisely on the guest's polished shoes, bouncing off. The pages seemed to contain a dozen screens, with each character moving and smiling joyfully.
After what seemed like an eternity, Vernon finally came to life, stuttering an explanation.
"Mr. Hep, you see, this book, this book—it—"
"No need to explain, I understand completely—" Felix said casually, but the three Dursleys looked even more terrified. "No, no, you must explain! You have to explain!" Vernon shouted, spreading his arms as if to block the door and prevent Felix from leaving.
"I don't think it's necessary", Felix said, shaking his head. "I'm thrilled that readers enjoy my books. I never expected such a pleasant change in just one year..."
"Readers?" Petunia whispered.
"Your book?" Vernon's small eyes widened.
"One year?" Dudley swallowed hard.
"Yes, I thought you knew", Felix said, nodding at the comic on the floor. "It has my name on it."
(End of Chapter)
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