A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts
Chapter 631: Staying Behind - (2)

When Hermione returned from Divination class, she found Harry, Ron, and Ginny gathered with serious expressions. Puzzled, she asked, "What's going on? Are you still caught up with Carlotta Pinkstone?"

"More serious than that, Hermione," Ron said sternly. "We probably won't have many chances to meet Carlotta Pinkstone in person, unless you count the three Chocolate Frog cards squished at the bottom of my trunk. Honestly, I had forgotten about her a long time ago."

"What happened?" Hermione asked curiously.

As Ginny quietly recounted her and Luna's efforts to find the Resurrection Stone, Harry, who had heard it once before, couldn't help but drift into his thoughts. He began pondering the feasibility of the task. The first time he heard about it, he was angry, remembering the close call he, Ron, and Hermione had in their second year—though, in hindsight, they were perfectly safe, with three professors nearby!

Moreover, the Basilisk was already dead, and he assumed the professors had thoroughly utilized its materials. The Ring of the Serpent, a prized possession of the Rune Club, was crafted from Basilisk scales, and Snape had published several high-quality research papers.

As for hidden dangers, Harry believed that Professors Hagrid and Dumbledore wouldn't leave anything unattended, making the place theoretically safe.

Harry's stance began to waver.

After the conclusion of the afternoon's Potions class, Harry once again declined Slughorn's invitation. "I have to catch up on homework in Professor Babbling's office tonight," he said, not in the best mood, secretly hoping Professor Slughorn would take his side. So, he deliberately avoided using 'Quidditch practice' as an excuse.

However, Professor Slughorn only rolled his eyes a few times. "Ah, yes, him. I'm not very familiar with him. Always felt there's something about him..." He stared at the gold button on his waistcoat, unable to find an adjective. Anxiously, he mumbled, "Too bad, isn't it? Maybe next time."

So, at eight in the evening, Harry knocked on the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office, full of resentment.

"Come in, Harry," Grindelwald said.

"Sir, I'm here to explain the errors in my essay," Harry said, averting his gaze from Grindelwald. Unexpectedly, he noticed an open gift box on the table, and it seemed oddly familiar.

Grindelwald grinned.

"Thought I forgot the past? Harry, I don't intend to criticize you. Yes, there are some immature points in your essay, but it's not your fault. I'll never forget that afternoon when you offered me a helping hand. Not everyone would help a lonely old man. I'm grateful, Harry."

Harry was visibly stunned.

"I, uh, I just..." he stammered.

"Kind," Grindelwald whispered. "I approached you a few times, admittedly with selfish motives—wanting to gather information about Hogwarts for my interview. But I overheard how your aunt and uncle treated you, speaking harshly. Several times I wanted to burst in and question them loudly, why treat your own family like this just because you're a wizard?"

Harry's eyes reddened.

"Sir," he said softly, "I've grown used to it. When I come of age, I'll move out."

Grindelwald patted Harry on the shoulder. "I understand your predicament completely. Even though I gave you the option to retaliate—it's your right—you chose kindness and forgiveness, even if they don't appreciate it. That's not your fault," Grindelwald emphasized. "Not your fault."

Harry wiped his eyes.

"I used to be a saint, my boy," Grindelwald said.

"A s-saint? Sir?"

"A saint," Grindelwald said. "Do you know Grindelwald? His followers are called saints, although 'followers' is not entirely accurate. We gathered with the dream of changing the wizarding world."

"I, I haven't heard much..." Harry admitted, feeling embarrassed. Then his eyes widened, "Wait! Grindelwald? I remember." He tried to recall a memorized passage, "Dumbledore's well-known contributions include: the defeat in 1945 of—"

"—the Dark Wizard Grindelwald," Grindelwald finished, revealing a cold smile. "That's the impression he left on the world. Recorded on Chocolate Frog cards, not as an individual but as one of the greatest wizards of our time."

Harry didn't know what to say; his mind was a mess. Trying to make sense of the explosive information he just received: Professor Basheta was once a saint, a follower of the dark wizard Grindelwald... No, it's more accurate to say an adherent of his ideology. Is that why Professor Basheta harbors disdain for Muggles? It felt like he had found an explanation.

Grindelwald calmly examined Harry. Then he took out his wand, pressed it to his forehead, and drew out a thin silver thread.

"Professor?" Harry asked quietly.

"Hush," Grindelwald raised a finger, and with a forceful swing of his wand, the silver thread was thrown into the air, creating an image suspended in the office.

It seemed to be a gathering. A middle-aged wizard stepped onto the stage, looking more like a rock star than a wizard, Harry thought. Then came a distant, enthusiastic cheer in the footage, reminiscent of the scene when he won the Quidditch championship.

The crowd quieted down in the video, and the person in the center of the stage began to speak. Harry was surprised to see that one of his eyes was silver.

"...they say I hate non-wizards, Muggles, Squibs, and Muggles. I don't know the last term," Harry looked at Grindelwald, unsure of the meaning. "Different terms for non-magical people," Grindelwald explained briefly. Harry nodded and returned his gaze to the empty space.

"I don't hate them. I don't hate."

"I don't fight out of hatred. I believe Muggles are not a lower class but a different one. Not without value but with a different kind of value. Not to be treated without freedom but to be treated specially."

The person in the video paused, then continued.

"The flourishing of magic will only happen in a very small number of souls. It will only be granted to those who pursue noble causes. What kind of world are we going to create for humanity? We long for freedom, for truth—"

At this point, the person suddenly looked beyond the frame, gazing at Harry, as if speaking to him.

"—and most importantly, for love."

Harry watched in awe, involuntarily swallowing his saliva. At this moment, the image disappeared, and he felt unsatisfied.

"Is there more?" he asked.

"Sorry," Grindelwald said. "I shouldn't have shown you these. I promised Dumbledore that... it might get me into trouble. But an old friend found me last week, and some memories were stirred." He glanced at the gift box Harry had noticed earlier.

A moment of silence.

"The person in the footage is Grindelwald?" Harry asked after some thought.

"That's right," Grindelwald revealed a smile. "Well, forget about him, kid. I have to remind you, he's a dark wizard, initiated many protests, and caused the deaths of some people. Let's get back to your essay. Once we sort out those minor issues, we can talk about magic."

"I can see you have a talent," he added.

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