Chapter 37
"Are you alright?" Lucian came back to his senses, Dumbledore was still sitting in the seat across from him.
Realizing he had lost his composure, Lucian didn't rush to answer. He took a deep breath.
"Hoo…"
Only after feeling the cool touch of sweat on his forehead again did he somewhat regain his clarity. It would be nice if there were a second cup of hot cocoa on the table right now—no, forget it. He didn't want to drink hot cocoa again for a long while.
Just as Lucian was thinking this, Dumbledore suddenly waved his wand.
"Clink."
The crisp sound of ice cubes clinking together rang out. A glass of iced lemon black tea appeared right in front of Lucian.
"I thought you might need this now?" Dumbledore's voice sounded beside his ear.
What flashed through Lucian's mind, however, was his last conversation with Snape.
[Are you really going to drink it? Drinking tea late at night will affect your sleep.]
[Something a single small vial of Calming Draught could fix—what exactly are you fussing about?]
What a strange feeling. He had only just mocked Snape for that the last time—how had it now become his turn?
"Thank you." Lucian picked up the lemon black tea and drained it in one go. By the time he set the glass down, his mind had completely calmed.
"It seems that even without me saying much, you've already understood."
"Professor… is what I lack love?" When he said the word "love," the corner of Lucian's eye twitched involuntarily.
Love is the most powerful magic in the world—this tired old refrain of Dumbledore's, of course he had heard it, and he had always regarded it with complete disdain.
The ones who charged forward shouting about conviction and friendship to take down the enemy were the protagonists.
He, on the other hand, was a wizard—one who believed only in knowledge and power. If sheer nonsense like love were enough to make someone stronger, his long journey of studying magic wouldn't have been so arduous.
Moreover, Lily Evans and James Potter—the couple who most seemed to represent the new generation of "love"—hadn't they still died at Voldemort's hands? As a result-oriented Slytherin, Lucian could not accept their fate.
"Clearly, you cannot accept this idea." Dumbledore had clearly perceived Lucian's disdain.
"I truly cannot—if I had clung to such naïve notions from the beginning, I probably wouldn't even be sitting here discussing this with you now."
"I understand what you mean, but this is indeed the answer. Shall we try phrasing it differently?" Dumbledore earnestly raised two fingers and gently tapped the spot over his own heart.
"Not love, but the heart. Feel with your heart." Through today's conversation, Dumbledore had fully grasped Lucian's ambition—this was a man so devout toward magic that he could almost be called a martyr for it. If he wanted to move Lucian and bring him back from the wrong path, there was no better moment than right now.
A deep sorrow suddenly appeared in Dumbledore's eyes. He remained seated in his chair, brushed off his hands as though shaking something away. "Lucian, how do you view life? Or rather, what do you think people live for? Let me tell you my answer first—I believe people live only for certain moments. It may sound a little regrettable, even a little foolish. But in truth, it is simply an attitude toward pursuit: we live for the experience of certain moments, and as long as we live this way, we will always have many such moments worth remembering—one after another."
"Sad ones—hard to forget—"
"Of course—there are also happy ones—impossible to forget—even when you think back on them in bed late at night and can't help but laugh out loud—"
"Countless such moments, of every kind, are what make you and me who we are." Seeing Lucian lost in thought, Dumbledore suddenly gave a somewhat strained smile "You might find this absurd when I say it, but for a very long time in the past, I believed there must be some kind of god in this world—otherwise, why would He have let me encounter such devastating events? He gave me unparalleled talent, yet what was the result? I used it to hurt the person I loved most."
Dumbledore was still smiling, but his eyes looked as though they were crying "If I could choose, I would rather have had none of that talent—just be an ordinary wizard, stay at Hogwarts after graduation to become a teacher, and teach until I grew old. That way, I wouldn't have been drowned by my own ambition to that extent."
"There was one thing you said earlier that I deeply relate to—magic is an unreasonable existence."
"It has no heart. It only responds to incantations—any wizard can use it." Dumbledore slowly pointed the fingers that had been over his heart toward Lucian. "But what is it that truly responds to us, beyond those spells?"
"…It's love." At this moment, Lucian could think of no answer that encompassed more. Even though, deep down, he still did not fully accept it.
"Good. It is love. I think you've fully understood." Dumbledore reached out with relief, stood up, and patted Lucian on the shoulder "The person you were in the past has shaped who you are now. That is good—it suits you. But if you wish to go further… I believe it will be difficult if you remain immersed in your old ways of thinking. Since you can continually update your views on magic, why not try the same in life?"
Lucian fell into thought, his mind racing. According to Dumbledore, it was precisely because he had ignored too many emotional expressions and interactions with others in the past that his current path had become so arduous.
Yet at the same time, if he hadn't done things that way before, he might not even have qualified to face such hardship now. There was no longer any need to judge which past approach had been better or worse.
What mattered was the future. "What should I do next? Do you have any suggestions, Professor?"
"I think even if I don't say it, you can probably figure it out yourself. But if I must offer one suggestion—why not pay a little more attention to the school? Not out of duty to teach the students, but to truly focus on experiencing the role of a teacher and everything that campus life has to offer."
"…"
Lucian nodded, committing Dumbledore's words to memory and planning to put them into practice later—perhaps it was also time to raise the intensity for those lower-year little wizards.
Seeing the serious expression on his face, Dumbledore found it somewhat amusing and said with a twinkle in his eyes, "Very well, we've finished discussing the commendation. Now I should talk to you about the real reason we're sitting here."
"Oh—I'd almost forgotten about that." Lucian tried to relax a little.
Dumbledore nodded at the change in him, but his expression grew solemn again. "Thank you for your honesty today. It has helped me make up my mind completely. To be frank, just an hour ago, I was still hesitating over this matter."
Dumbledore opened the drawer in front of him. At some point, his right hand had donned a dragon-hide glove. Under Lucian's gaze, Dumbledore used that gloved hand to take out a black diary and place it in the exact center of the desk.
Lucian realized almost instantly what it was—Voldemort's diary or rather, a Horcrux.
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