Dumbledore's tone was strange, as if he were confessing something.
"Perhaps I really can't do anything... ruining everything because of a momentary decision, causing everyone pain, and making them pay the price for me..."
He blinked slowly, his eyes growing increasingly dim.
"At that time, the connection between Fawkes and you became very weak... That place must have been very dangerous, right? I have to tell you here... I'm sorry..."
Vizette looked at Dumbledore with a puzzled expression, sensing something was wrong. "Headmaster Dumbledore, are you alright?"
He suddenly thought of his past life and the deceased director of the welfare home.
When the old dean was young, he may have acted impulsively or due to ideological conflicts, which made his relationship with his family increasingly tense. He even ran away from home in a fit of pique and never returned.
By middle age, the old dean had his own business, but he also experienced the deceit and treachery of the business world.
When the old dean wanted to reconcile with his family, he was devastated to receive the devastating news that his family members had passed away one after another.
Later, the old director received a plastic bag full of loose change. It was money he had given to an orphan, but unexpectedly, the orphan came to him again and returned the money.
What surprised him most was that the orphan turned out to be his long-lost grand-nephew.
Since then, he had established a welfare home, taken on the role of welfare home director, and gradually shifted his focus to the welfare home.
Nevertheless, in his previous life, Vizette would still see the old headmaster grieving alone, licking his past wounds, and enduring the torment of never seeing his loved ones again.
Dumbledore's current state was very similar to that of the old headmaster, who was deeply saddened.
All of this stemmed from past experiences that had caused unspeakable pain, and the responsibilities they bore forced them to silently endure the torment.
However, it was in this state that Dumbledore made Vizette feel even closer to him.
Compared to a man who was "widely recognized as the greatest wizard of our time" and held a series of titles such as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Archmage, Dumbledore at this moment seemed more real.
He had both a great side and the torment he had to endure alone.
He rarely revealed this torment, not even Aberforth had ever seen it, but he himself had the misfortune to witness it...
Dumbledore murmured, "I have cared too little for them… I am responsible for all of this… I even repeated the same mistake, until a second bad outcome occurred…"
His fists were clenched so tightly that blood seeped from beneath his fingernails.
Vizette took a deep breath, making sure he spoke clearly, before calling out, "Headmaster Dumbledore!"
"I seem to have talked too much." Dumbledore's expression shifted as he regained his composure, a look of helplessness quickly appearing on his face. "I always feel more relaxed around you."
"Perhaps it's because... I've received many Christmas gifts over the past ten years. But only your gift, a box of colorful candies, is something I truly love!"
He glanced at the dark night sky. "It's getting late. You must be exhausted. Go back and rest!"
Vizette shook his head and said slowly, "When I was studying at the Hog's Head, I observed those wizard duels. Before the duel, they would always provoke each other with words."
"It seems you're trying to disrupt the wizard's mindset in this way. Headmaster Dumbledore... this is Voldemort's way of interfering with you, nothing more."
"Perhaps I was indeed distracted," Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with self-reproach. "If Harry hadn't been protected, if you weren't the Guardian…"
"Perhaps Harry will be killed by the Killing Curse, or perhaps Voldemort's plot will succeed, gaining the support of the Obscurus. I really don't want to drag you all into this..."
Vizette shook his head and replied, "That's all hypothetical. Harry is lying there perfectly fine in the school hospital, and I'm still alive and kicking."
"It's not that you dragged us into this; it's that Voldemort always coveted the Obscurus. He had Professor Quirrell teach me so that the Obscurus would go berserk."
"I don't know about Harry's situation, but if it weren't for Harry, he wouldn't have fallen more than ten years ago. I think… he must have hated Harry to the core."
"I think not only do I need to rest, but you also need to relax. You've taken on a lot of work, and I can feel it just from the few words Mr. Aberforth has mentioned."
Dumbledore interlaced his fingers, slightly nervous. "What did he tell you?"
Vizette carefully chose his words, "He didn't say much… He mainly mentioned Credence, and then… said a few… rather unpleasant things about you."
Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief, as if he didn't mind at all. "That's just him, always so straightforward."
Vizette pushed the plate of bread towards him. "Headmaster Dumbledore, you should have some too! As I said before, I can't really know what you've been through."
"But I'm willing to offer a little support! Like this piece of bread... like that night, when you were the only one... willing to believe in me!"
"We are all human beings, and it is impossible for us to be perfect. If we feel like sinners because of this, we will surely live in torment and pain every day!"
"Thank you, Vizette…" Dumbledore's voice was extremely hoarse, with a hint of choking.
"I should be thanking you all." After a long day of running around, Vizette couldn't resist getting sleepy and let out a long yawn.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I'm going back to rest now. Good night."
"Good night."
...
After Vizette left, Fawkes sat down on the table, looking at the crispy breadcrumbs, wondering whether he should take a small bite and taste them.
Dumbledore looked at the empty seat and picked up a piece of bread that was still warm.
He took a small bite carefully, chewing with great deliberation.
His vision was quickly blurred by tears, and two lines of clear tears traced the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and slowly flowed down.
Dumbledore stood up and walked to the Mirror of Erised.
His gaze no longer darted away, and the sadness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a tenderness—a tenderness for his family and loved ones.
After finishing a piece of bread, a faint smile appeared on his face, and he said in a voice that sounded almost like singing, "Merry Christmas..."
After an unknown amount of time, Snape suddenly burst into the headmaster's office.
His expression was serious. "Vizette seems to be back. He wasn't possessed by the Dark Lord, was he?"
Dumbledore had regained his composure and sat back down in his chair, asking with some surprise, "You're still staking out the eighth floor?"
Snape scoffed. "It's his owl... just like its master, delivering mail and picking up knowledge."
"Your summary is very accurate." Dumbledore laughed. "And there's more good news…"
"He wasn't possessed by Voldemort; he just happened to go to a special place and had an unforgettable experience."
Snape frowned. "An unforgettable experience? About the magic on that mirror?"
"Yes…you'll understand once you try this!" Dumbledore pushed the plate forward. "Voldemort couldn't do these things…Vizette isn't possessed, I can guarantee it with my life!"
...
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