Chapter 673: Patterns
Chapter 673: Patterns
The next morning, the Great Hall was buzzing with lively chatter at the dining tables.
Many young wizards had finished their exams and were chatting loudly, preparing to enjoy the last bit of leisure time before the holidays. They had every reason to be happy, as per tradition, professors generally wouldn't assign any homework, especially not during this period.
"We still have one more exam", Ron said, poking at the scrambled eggs on his plate with his fork.
"Look at it this way, once today is over, we'll have nearly two weeks of free time", Hermione said, her mouth full of food, trying to comfort him. Harry nodded in agreement, but his eyes involuntarily shifted to Neville. Today's exam was in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and they would see Professor Bashat again.
"No, what would really cheer me up is that the fifth and seventh-year exams are still ongoing", Ron said, trying to lift his spirits. "How many more exams does Ginny have?"
"Four", Harry replied.
Ron sighed contentedly. Just then, a large flock of owls flew in, landing on the tables with a clatter, their wings causing a racket as they settled. Six or seven owls gathered around Dumbledore at the teacher's table. Professor Machi Ban, who seemed to be allergic to owls, was sneezing continuously.
Harry watched with amusement until Ron yelped in pain. He turned around to see a gray owl on the table, its beak having just released Ron's finger.
"It bit me!" Ron complained, picking up the letter that had fallen on the table, "I'd like to know who owns this owl—oh", his tone turned somber, "it's from Bill."
He opened the letter and read it quickly. His expression shifted from shock to joy. Before Harry could ask, Ron was already excitedly sharing the news.
"It's from Bill and Fleur. They're planning to get married this summer—Merlin's beard! Well, the letter says the date is still uncertain. They need to coordinate the schedules of some important guests, but it's tentatively set for early August. They asked me to check if you two can make it—surely you won't miss it, right?" Ron asked, seeking confirmation.
"Of course, I'll be there."
"Absolutely, we can't miss it."
Harry and Hermione quickly agreed.
Ron read the letter again, satisfied, and then looked up, somewhat surprised. "I wonder how Bill managed to convince Mum to accept Fleur. You know, her attitude has always been... well—maybe Mum finally realized there's no hope for Bill and Tonks."
"Tonks and Lupin are engaged", Harry reminded him.
"Yeah, I guess that's the reason", Ron said. "Mum's dreams are truly dashed." He put the letter away, and the three of them finished breakfast with a joyful mood, ready to face today's Defense Against the Dark Arts exam.
At the teacher's table, Felix opened his letter, which contained a formal invitation. He scanned it quickly; the text was in a rock-and-roll style of English, signed by Bill Weasley. He glanced at Dumbledore, who was calmly putting away a letter.
"The International Confederation of Wizards?" Grindelwald, sitting on the other side, suddenly asked.
"Babaji asked for my advice on the new laws. Poor fellow, he's facing such a challenging situation right from the start", Dumbledore said calmly. "But he's done well in the past; he just needs a bit more confidence."
Grindelwald was skeptical, squinting as he fell into thought. Felix asked, "Headmaster Dumbledore, did you receive a letter from the Weasleys?"
"Ah, I did", Dumbledore said, lifting a letter with his long fingers and examining the signature. "It's from Arthur and Molly. Let me see what they say—oh, oh—a wedding, another lovely couple!."
Professor Machi Ban was leaning back as far as possible, waving her hand in front of her face to keep the owls at bay. "Let me go, I can't stand this!" she shouted. After Professor Mcgonagall helped her leave the table, Dumbledore continued cheerfully, "Arthur and Molly strolling under the moonlight seems like it was just yesterday, but now their children are getting married. Time is truly a wonderful thing!"
"I think", he turned to Felix with an expectant tone, "Sirius and Amelia, and Remus and Tonks, those two pairs are also quite certain, right?"
Felix nodded.
"Then I'll need to prepare—three wedding gifts at least. In the years following the last war, I received several wedding invitations", Dumbledore stood up, hopping on his toes with excitement. "Compared to these good tidings, official duties seem so dull and tedious. I should remind Babaji that he is now the President of the International Confederation of Wizards."
Grindelwald stared silently at the retreating figure, seemingly asking a question to himself, "Is what he said true?"
"Which part? Headmaster said a lot", Felix asked.
"Yes", Grindelwald said slowly, "he said a lot."
At the edge of the long table, Snape inconspicuously glanced at the few people present, his mind racing with thoughts. Dumbledore had kept too many secrets—Snape was absolutely certain he wasn't the only one who had been treated this way. Felix, Mcgonagall, and even the mysterious Bashat were all part of Dumbledore's plan. But no one could see the whole picture.
For example, he was sure that no one else in the world knew that the Elder Wand, once belonging to Dumbledore, had silently changed hands.
What was Dumbledore really planning?
Snape coldly put down his utensils and turned to leave the Great Hall. He didn't believe a word of Dumbledore's nonsense about it being "best to remain a permanent mystery" or "that's up to you." If Dumbledore truly wanted the Elder Wand to disappear, he could have just lived out his natural life. Snape didn't believe anyone would dare to harm Dumbledore.
Unless he was guarding against someone. Snape paused, glancing at Felix at the table.
Then he walked through the long hallway and climbed the spiral staircase. The words Dumbledore had said that night echoed in his mind: "I hope it will never be needed, best to remain a permanent mystery, meaning there will be no major changes in the wizarding world."
Major changes... Snape pondered these words as he pushed open the classroom door.
Dumbledore had foreseen some danger, but he wasn't sure if or when it would happen. In such a situation, letting a powerful wand disappear into history seemed unwise. So, Snape was Dumbledore's backup plan, a temporary custodian of the Elder Wand?
Then who did Dumbledore consider the ideal Heir?
As soon as Snape opened the door, he saw Harry sitting in the front row, and a strong sense of disdain washed over him. He didn't believe Dumbledore would choose Potter, even if he had surpassed him in combat... combat?
Snape's body stiffened. If he considered this, the range of people Dumbledore could choose from was actually quite small.
Harry stared blankly at Snape, his mind still trying to process the situation. Why was Snape here to proctor the exam? And why did he look so strange?
"Bang!"
Snape slammed the door shut, strode to the front of the classroom, and his face seemed to be frozen in a cold expression. He then waved his wand, and stacks of test papers flew out from the locked cabinet, landing precisely in front of the students.
"The time is now nine o'clock. You have two hours to complete the exam."
The students looked at each other, whispering among themselves.
"Silence", Snape barked, and the sixth-year students once again felt the familiar low pressure enveloping the classroom.
"Where is Professor Bashat?" Neville asked, mustering his courage.
"He's still alive, but—" Snape's cold eyes locked onto him, and Neville's face paled. But what? Harry's heart sank. "But you will only see him this afternoon. I am responsible for proctoring the sixth-year written exam. Now, be quiet—begin the exam!"
They hurriedly lowered their heads and started answering the questions. Harry, while working on his test, thought that Snape seemed very angry. Was it because he had to proctor the exam? From his words, Professor Bashat was still at the school.
For the next two hours, the classroom was completely silent, with only the sound of quills scratching against the parchment. After the exam, the students filed out, discussing why Snape had been their proctor in the hallway.
"Maybe Professor Bashat is sick", one student suggested.
"He was fine this morning, and Snape did say he would be responsible for the practical exam this afternoon."
Harry noticed the worried expression on Neville's face, and a sense of unease crept over him. At lunch, he found an opportunity to tell Hermione about it. Hermione, holding her fork, thought for a moment.
"There's not much we can do about this, Harry", Hermione said dejectedly. She saw Harry about to protest and waved her fork to stop him. "Neville wants to do something for Professor Bashat, just like you did for Lupin."
"It's not the same!" Harry exclaimed, and a few people nearby looked over. He lowered his voice. "At least I wasn't in danger, but that person—what I saw him do, even if it was just in memory—caused many innocent deaths! That's why I refused his invitation. If he does something dangerous to Neville..."
"People can change. He's been in prison for fifty years, hasn't he?" Hermione whispered. "Besides, we concluded that he's under strict casting restrictions, right?"
"A Dark Lord who relies on a specialized wand, I almost feel sorry for him", Ron muttered.
Harry brooded alone. He felt that his previous partial fondness for Grindelwald, and the way he described him, had somewhat romanticized the dark wizard, making it hard for Ron and Hermione to grasp the severity of the situation.
After the practical exam for Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon, Harry, ignoring the odd looks from Ron and Hermione, caught up with Neville and asked, "Neville, did Professor Bashat say anything to you privately?"
"He said I did well", Neville said with a pleased expression.
"Um, I mean, besides that—"
"Are you asking when Professor Bashat is leaving the school?" Neville looked at him.
Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
"Did you ask him?"
"I did, but he wasn't sure", Neville said softly. "However, he gave me this." He pulled a walnut-sized glass ball from his pocket. "It's a Scrying Mirror, one of the seven mentioned by Professor Hep. It contains a strand of Professor Bashat's hair."
Harry exchanged a meaningful glance with Ron and Hermione.
"Except, it's broken", Neville added, leaving Harry momentarily stunned. "Broken, broken?" he stammered. Neville looked at Harry strangely. "Yeah, it's just a keepsake, something Professor Bashat gave me on a whim."
"Can I see it, Neville?" Hermione asked in an unusual tone. "I didn't know Professor Bashat was interested in Ancient Runes."
Neville trustingly handed the glass ball to her.
"This is one of his early works, clearly unsuccessful. Professor Bashat has had a long-standing interest in Ancient Runes, right, Harry?"
"Right... I did see a lot of related books in his office, and we discussed them together", Harry said, lost in thought. Memories flooded his mind, and a strong sense of guilt washed over him. He looked at Hermione, hoping she would reassure him that there was nothing sinister about it.
He desperately wished he was wrong.
"The craftsmanship is exquisite, and it's adorned with patterns", Hermione said after a few minutes, returning the glass ball to Neville. "But it is indeed broken; the Runic Script inside is incomplete."
"Professor Bashat told me the same thing", Neville said. "The pattern is one he particularly favors, and you can see similar designs on his clothes."
"Like Professor Slughorn's gold buttons?" Ron smirked.
Neville glared at him and retorted, "Professor Bashat's taste is clearly better." When he left, Hermione shook her head at Harry and Ron.
"You heard what he said; I didn't find anything wrong with it."
"Alright, well—this is the best outcome", Harry sighed in relief, feeling a weight lift from his chest.
The next few days were calm. Ginny's O.W.L.s exams were winding down, and Harry managed to attend his last lesson in the Headmaster's Office. When Dumbledore announced the end of the course, Harry felt a twinge of regret.
"You've nearly seen the history of the past century through my eyes, but that doesn't mean you've gained the same wisdom as I have. It will take time to digest, and that process might be short or it might last a lifetime", Dumbledore said softly.
The elderly man's bright blue eyes were filled with enthusiasm and expectation. Harry averted his gaze slightly, looking at a stack of letters and a copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard on the desk.
Dumbledore noticed where Harry's gaze had fallen and explained, "Those are letters from the International Confederation of Wizards. They've been sending one almost every day recently... I admit I've been a bit slow in responding."
Harry had wanted to ask about the storybook and why it was on the desk, but the timing didn't seem right. He decided to bring it up another time in a more relaxed atmosphere.
"How do I digest it—" Harry began, but didn't finish.
"Do the right thing, Harry. Not the easy thing", Dumbledore said. "And think deeply. It's a cliché, but from my observations, many people can endure physical torment but struggle with the pain of solitude and deep thought."
Harry nodded, understanding but not fully grasping the depth of the advice.
"Then—let's talk about the soul fragment within you."
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
