"Wait, Severus."
Dumbledore called out to Snape just as he was about to turn and leave, then asked frankly, "What is this?"
He held up the parchment in his hand.
Snape paused, then his expression turned a bit strange.
"You don't know?"
"Evidently not—I'm not as omniscient as people make me out to be. In fact, I often feel I know too little."
Snape scrutinized Dumbledore from head to toe, as if he were seeing a Troll doing ballet on its tiptoes. His lips curved slightly, a mix of mockery and schadenfreude:
"How unusual—someone actually sent me a Christmas gift, but not the great Dumbledore?"
Snape's biting tone didn't faze Dumbledore. The old headmaster merely drew his Wand and waved it at the room full of gift boxes. Even the Potions Class professor couldn't help but peek.
The gift boxes swayed slightly, then became still.
Dumbledore sighed regretfully and said, "It seems there truly isn't one for me."
"Oh," Snape replied dryly.
He had already seen it—Dumbledore's office was overflowing with gifts, almost reaching the ceiling. Thinking of the mere handful of gift boxes in his own bedroom, Snape suddenly lost the urge to mock.
He didn't really care about the number of gifts—he just didn't want to see others unintentionally showing off—
Snape flicked a finger, and a note shot towards Dumbledore like a bullet.
"These are the instructions."
By the time Dumbledore caught the note, Snape had already turned and strode away. The white-bearded headmaster pushed up his glasses, then looked down, quickly figuring out how to use it.
"Oh—can it replace the Muggle telephone? What an interesting idea—"
He chanted a spell, examining the parchment—or rather, the magic on the Book of Friends.
"Clever design, brilliant combination… It seems Mr. Gray's studies in Alchemy are already showing results—and he's very talented—no wonder Murray is so proud—"
Thinking of himself as the only one who hadn't received a gift, Dumbledore recalled the expressions on the children's faces that day, vaguely understanding something.
"So that's it… a smart and sensitive child… is that right? Unlike Harry, this child probably doesn't like being guided—"
He seemed to be talking to himself, but soon, an old, faint voice echoed in the room.
"Ralph has rarely seen an eleven-year-old like this," the voice said. "A bit like Albus Dumbledore in his youth; and also like Tom Riddle in his youth—smart, insightful, and unique."
Dumbledore looked down, saying humbly, "Oh, you're flattering me a bit too much. When I was eleven, I knew as much about Alchemy as any ordinary child."
Where his gaze landed, standing in front of the fireplace, was a very old House-elf. His skin was wrinkled, he was wrapped in a tea towel with the Hogwarts crest, and his ears were full of fluffy white hair. He was so thin he looked like he could be easily broken, but his large green eyes were remarkably clear.
He said in a whisper, "Albus Dumbledore is truly arrogant. By saying that, he's implying he's unique and believes he should know everything."
"Don't be so blunt, dear Ralph." Dumbledore said helplessly, "You see right through me, which often makes me feel ashamed."
He wiped his glasses, sat at the table, and gently requested, "Would you mind tidying up these gifts for me? I need to write something."
"Ralph is happy to serve, Master."
The House-elf bowed, stepped back a few paces, and extended his slender fingers.
The gift boxes piled high in the room unwrapped themselves. Books flew quickly onto shelves and arranged themselves neatly. Clean food items jumped into cabinets, and the cabinet doors closed with a snap. Various greeting cards and letters dropped into several boxes, neatly stacked on the table, waiting for Dumbledore to check them later. Other items were placed in various corners of the room.
As for the problematic gifts, they gathered into a mass, mercilessly squeezed and crushed by magic.
Not long after, Ralph disappeared from the room with these "trash" items and wrapping paper.
On the table, only two or three gift boxes remained unopened—those only Dumbledore could personally unseal.
While the House-elf was busy, Dumbledore signed his name—[Albus Dumbledore]—on each Book of Friends.
The professors who remained at school during the Christmas holiday had no families, perhaps not even relatives. They all chose to gift one of their one-on-one contact only Book of Friends to Dumbledore.
So Dumbledore, who had not received a Book of Friends as a Christmas gift, still ended up with a thicker Book of Friends than anyone else that morning.
Putting away the Book of Friends, Dumbledore sat at the table and thought for a long time. The passage of time seemed to ripple through his vision, stirring layers of introspection deep within his blue eyes.
Similar? Of course, very similar.
Thinking back carefully, the look in Wade Grey's eyes that day in the crowd was so much like his own when he was young.
But Dumbledore also wouldn't forget how he had messed up his own life.
After a long period of contemplation, he carefully picked up his pen and wrote a letter—
Dear Murray,
I have received the gift brought by your Owl, and I must say, it is very ingenious—even great. It's hard to imagine it's the work of an eleven-year-old child… Of course, in some ways its composition is actually quite simple and easy to understand. But precisely because of its simplicity, it is even more remarkable, and I'm sure you'll understand what I mean… I can almost see the revolutionary changes it will bring to the Wizarding World in the future…
To be honest, this both delights and frightens me—what kind of education should we give such a talented child?
The last time I encountered a student so brilliant it made me tremble was fifty years ago… You should still remember that student—Tom Riddle… I will not be so arrogant as to believe that my personal attitude determined Voldemort's life. But I must also admit that my education of him was undoubtedly a failure…
A precocious talent, whose emotions are suppressed by intellect, and isolated by his own wisdom… Even standing among countless people, he is lonely, because his mind and keenness make it easier for him to see the selfishness, greed, and ugly desires, and prejudiced arrogance in human nature… He will keep a certain distance from others, using humor, kindness, or politeness to disguise his inner disappointment and indifference towards humanity… He will be more likely to lose his way than those less gifted children…
You know, I'm not just talking about Tom Riddle, nor just about Wade Grey.
Therefore, regarding your student Wade, I have some perhaps immature suggestions…
My dearest friend, we adults, when faced with children much younger than ourselves, often develop an unconscious arrogance due to our greater knowledge and experience… We look down on them with a condescending sense of superiority, like monarchs wielding absolute power, spoon-feeding them information we want them to know, withholding what we deem they shouldn't know, manipulating them with words, and guiding them towards the path we desire…
What profound arrogance!
Even more dangerously, we often fail to recognize this arrogance.
Because we believe we are making the right decisions, all for the sake of making them "better people"…
I can't say this is entirely wrong, because children's minds are often not mature enough, and they don't know how to restrain their words and actions. Without proper guidance, they can easily go astray and cause harm to themselves and others… However, for a student like Wade Grey, conventional education might only have the opposite effect…
If there's one revelation I've gained from my many years of failed teaching, it's this: Love is the most difficult, yet most powerful magic in this world. It's mysterious and unfathomable, yet it can change everything, determine everythi
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