Chapter 34
Inside the Headmaster's office, Lucian and Dumbledore sat facing each other.
"Lemon black tea, as usual?"
"No, it's late. I don't feel like drinking anything." Lucian declined Dumbledore's offer; he was in no mood for refreshments at the moment.
"We'll probably talk for a long time. I think you should have a cup anyway—hot cocoa, perhaps?" Dumbledore first conjured a cup for himself out of thin air and raised it toward Lucian. Seeing the other man nod with a slightly softened expression, he smiled and conjured an identical cup of hot cocoa on the desk in front of Lucian.
"Lucian, I must admit that during your time as a student, I didn't pay much attention to you, so I know very little about you."
'That had been my intention all along.' Lucian lowered his head to take a sip of the hot cocoa, saying nothing.
"Because I wanted to invite you to teach at Hogwarts, I conducted some investigation into your background and what you've been doing in recent years—I hope you don't mind. It was the only way I could learn about you."
"It's fine, Headmaster. You're just being responsible for the students' safety. I doubt Hogwarts has ever been absurd enough to appoint a professor whose background is completely unknown."
"Thank you for your understanding." Dumbledore pressed on. "But in truth, even after trying to search for information about you, I still know very little. To put it indelicately, your actions after graduation have been like those of a ghost. Even during the war, there is no record of you anywhere. The only thing I know is that you maintained a long-term pen-pal relationship with Minerva. I'm quite curious—what exactly did you do after graduation? Would you indulge an old man's curiosity?"
"Aren't we getting a bit off topic? Headmaster, I thought you wanted to discuss the Basilisk with me."
"Oh—" Dumbledore responded as if only just realizing it, but he persisted. "You know, when people get old, they like to reminisce about the past. Remembering only their own isn't enough; they often crave strength from others' memories as well."
"And I assure you, what we're discussing now is directly related to the Basilisk." Lucian lowered his gaze, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and said faintly "Ask whatever you want to know directly."
"Hm—why does the atmosphere suddenly feel a bit like an interrogation? That's not my intention at all." Dumbledore took a sip of his hot cocoa.
When he set the cup down, he abruptly changed the subject. "Perhaps we should first talk about a reward? Would that motivate you more?"
"A reward?"
"Of course. You did me a great favor by protecting Hogwarts' students from the threat of the Basilisk. The entire school—staff and students alike—owes you a debt of gratitude. Though as a professor, school safety is part of your responsibility, as Headmaster, I still want to express special thanks for your outstanding personal contribution." He leaned forward slightly, his tone casual, as if sharing an insignificant secret— "For example, we could discuss how to enhance magical power. How does that sound?"
"..."
Lucian's finger, lightly tapping the armrest of his chair, suddenly paused for half a second. He slowly straightened his posture, his gaze toward Dumbledore now carrying a hint of inquiry.
Dumbledore was pleased with his reaction; a very faint smile flashed deep in his eyes. In truth, he admired Lucian's persistence with magic, though he worried it might lead him down the wrong path. "You seem surprised? What, do you think I'm the type to hoard knowledge like a miser?"
"I don't know, Professor. In most cases, you probably aren't." Lucian's eyes boldly met Dumbledore's—a highly dangerous act among wizards.
The eyes are the windows to the soul; a wizard skilled in Legilimency can easily read a person's thoughts through eye contact, even without casting a spell.
But both men present were experts in Occlumency. More than an offence, Lucian's action was a display of sincerity—and Dumbledore undoubtedly received it.
"But who knows? Though you investigated me, I think I understand you far better than you understand me."
"What exactly do you know about me? I hope those reports haven't portrayed me too inaccurately."
Faced with Lucian's deliberate sidetracking, Dumbledore merely smiled and went along with it "Good things and bad, both."
Lucian's gaze didn't waver in the slightest, his eyes calm to the point of near indifference—even Dumbledore, held under such a stare, couldn't help but feel the strange sensation of being completely dissected.
"For example, you're widely recognised as the greatest white wizard of this century, having led the defeat of two successive Dark Lords who brought catastrophe to the entire wizarding world. Countless people see you as a beacon against the darkness. But behind your back, they gossip, saying the power you wield far exceeds imagination, that your will has long superseded the law. I've heard many call you this."
"White Devil."
Dumbledore's smile didn't fade; he merely let out a soft "hm," as if savoring the depth of the term.
"There's one thing I must correct you on." His bright blue eyes reflected Lucian's figure.
"Whether in the first or second war, many remarkable wizards quietly contributed their strength. Without them, I alone could never have accomplished those things. I'm not as great as the newspapers claim."
"Hm. I sincerely admire those people."
Lucian's tone carried genuine sincerity—truly heartfelt.
But, Dumbledore's words suddenly struck like a sharp knife!
"Yet you don't want to be one of them, do you?"
"..."
"...Yes." Lucian's voice was somewhat hoarse, as if forced from his throat. But in the next second, it returned to normal. "I don't mind helping others when I can, but I would never risk my life for it." He openly admitted this.
Dumbledore nodded without rushing to judge, instead continuing "Anything else? I must say, hearing others' opinions of oneself is quite a novel and interesting experience. And I believe those rumors aren't enough to make you misunderstand me."
Seeing Dumbledore's composure, and recalling the earlier "thrust" of his words, Lucian let out a soft huff through his nose, a faint mocking smile curling at his lips—for a moment, he even resembled Snape a little "There is more, but you might not like hearing the rest."
"Piercing voices are necessary too; they keep us alert, don't they?" Seeing Dumbledore say this, Lucian naturally stopped indulging him.
"For example, you were once close friends with the first-generation Dark Lord Grindelwald, and even proposed a dangerous idea—"
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