62: The Untold Conversation [Second Installment]

In the corridors of Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall walked in a hurried manner toward the headmaster's office.

At the entrance to the headmaster's office stood a gargoyle. Within Hogwarts Castle, there were many such gargoyles, but the one guarding the headmaster's office was particularly striking.

"Acid Pops."

This was a peculiar password that only ever appeared when Dumbledore was in office. As the gargoyle sprang aside, Professor McGonagall hurried up the spiraling staircase leading to the headmaster's office.

"Minerva, the new batch of young wizards hasn't given you any trouble, I hope?" Dumbledore was bent over, reading an ancient tome concerning the Deathly Hallows.

"No trouble, but right now I am feeling rather faint of heart." Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together, her expression solemn. Standing before the headmaster's desk, her voice carried a complicated tone.

"Oh? What has happened?"

Dumbledore raised his head, curiosity flickering in the eyes behind his half-moon spectacles.

"That child from the Snape family, today in Transfiguration class..." Professor McGonagall recounted to Dumbledore what had occurred during her joint lesson with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

"I have never witnessed such exaggerated progress. It was as if he leaped across several years of study in a single bound, accomplishing things that many upper-year wizards fail to do."

Her voice still retained a thick sense of disbelief, as though Ian's previous performance was still vividly unfolding before her eyes.

"This event proves that your teaching has yielded remarkable results. Isn't that something worth celebrating? I am almost envious that you will soon have an exceptionally brilliant Transfiguration teaching assistant."

"Professor Snape will certainly be jealous of you." A serene smile hung on Dumbledore's face, forming a sharp contrast to the worry etched on Professor McGonagall's face.

"I have always hoped that a young wizard of extraordinary talent might become my assistant, but his kind of talent is no longer just extraordinary; it is downright terrifying."

Professor McGonagall sighed.

"Undeniably, Mr. Prince's performance is indeed unusual. I have seen many astonishingly brilliant individuals, but I never thought I would live to encounter a successor who makes even me feel somewhat envious."

"Astonishingly brilliant, confident and poised... unstoppable."

Dumbledore closed the book he had been reading and met Professor McGonagall's gaze with calm eyes. "Historically, such wizards have indeed appeared."

Faced with Dumbledore's remark, Professor McGonagall frowned.

"Who?"

She considered her knowledge of the history of magic to be quite decent. Although she had often felt sleepy during her own school days, over her many years as a professor, she had reviewed and refreshed her knowledge across all fields.

"Merlin Ambrosius."

Dumbledore's smile remained unchanged.

"..."

Professor McGonagall widened her eyes, feeling that this was both absurdly ridiculous and somewhat eerie. Countless figures flashed through her mind, but she certainly never imagined that such a name would tumble from Dumbledore's lips!

Merlin!

When wizards in the wizarding world uttered a prayer, they invariably invoked Merlin's name!

That alone spoke volumes of his weight!

"You are comparing the child of the Snape family to Merlin?" Professor McGonagall's face was plastered with disbelief; she even wondered if she might have stumbled upon the onset of Dumbledore's senility.

"After the Sorting Hat made that decision, I consulted numerous books and documents, which helped me understand certain matters." Dumbledore rested his hands on the desk.

"There are indeed a handful of wizards who are fundamentally different from the rest of us."

"They are able to perceive a magical world that we cannot see, and experience exquisite magical senses that we have no chance to explore. That is why they are able to rise like comets."

"Minerva, we must acknowledge the existence of geniuses; that is not a sin on their part." Dumbledore spoke in soft, gentle tones, much like a teacher giving yet another lesson to a cat professor who had graduated many years ago.

"Aren't you one of those geniuses yourself?"

Professor McGonagall frowned in puzzlement.

"Without boasting, of course I am a genius." Dumbledore readily accepted the title, yet his tone remained tranquil as he abruptly shifted the subject.

"However, compared to the four founders of Hogwarts, a gap still exists between them and myself. And Ian, this child is the successor personally chosen by Lady Ravenclaw herself through the Sorting Hat."

"We must trust the judgment of the Sorting Hat; the heir of Ravenclaw cannot be a bad person." Dumbledore brought up the prestige of Hogwarts' founders.

Yet Professor McGonagall remained unmoved.

"This is completely different; we are talking about Merlin!"

If wizards had a religion,

that religion would undoubtedly be Merlin.

Professor McGonagall was clearly one of its devoted followers.

"It is the truth, Minerva. Ian may not reach Merlin's height, but he undoubtedly possesses the exact same talent as Merlin, and I likewise trust my own judgment."

Some recent events flashed through Dumbledore's mind.

His tone was firm.

Professor McGonagall had no idea how to refute this.

"Be that as it may, Albus, Mr. Prince was standing right beside the young Grindelwald when term started." Professor McGonagall could only change the subject.

She could not comprehend why Dumbledore was not worried in the least.

Since Dumbledore believed Ian possessed Merlin-like talent, shouldn't he be even more vigilant and cautious? The boy was mastering advanced Transfiguration techniques entirely on his own in his very first year!

Would you, Dumbledore, still be able to keep him in check a few years from now?

Had your Voldemort-related trauma suddenly been cured?

If so, wouldn't those of us whom you've kept on edge all these years look like complete fools?

"I certainly saw it."

Unaware of Professor McGonagall's inner criticisms, Dumbledore continued to counsel her, "Isn't this precisely what we hope to see? A young wizard forging friendships at Hogwarts."

Hearing this,

Professor McGonagall nodded.

"I know we should not harbor prejudices against them, and I am trying my hardest to do so, but I need to know that your old friend has not been instilling any unhinged ideologies in them."

"We are all well aware of that man's capabilities and methods. If he has already altered the minds of those two, I fear even the resurrection of the four founders would not be enough to guide them back onto the righteous path."

Professor McGonagall's words were unsparing, fully reflecting her inner unease. Dumbledore quietly waited for her to finish, pondering for a moment before slowly speaking.

"I cannot guarantee that to you, but I can assure you that Gellert Grindelwald's ideology can never be imposed upon those whose minds are already resolute."

"I believe Mr. Prince will not disappoint us in that regard." Dumbledore's tone remained gentle, lacking the solemnity Professor McGonagall had anticipated before she arrived.

"And what about the young Grindelwald?"

Professor McGonagall's heart was filled with doubt and confusion.

"Setting aside his talent, I actually feel that the child Ian Prince resembles me in certain ways, so you needn't worry at all that Miss Grindelwald will influence Ian."

Facing Professor McGonagall's shake of the head,

"Minerva, you have always misunderstood one thing,"

Dumbledore suddenly murmured softly.

He raised his head,

gazing at the perplexed Professor McGonagall standing before his desk.

Those profound eyes seemed to shine with a light that had pierced through the fog.

"That day, it was Miss Grindelwald who was standing by Ian Prince's side... Realizing that fact is of the utmost importance." The gentle, mild words echoed within the office,

and soon subsided.

The firelight from the hearth danced in Dumbledore's eyes.

In the quiet surroundings,

the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses on the walls appeared remarkably noisy, mirroring the turbulent, churning thoughts within Professor McGonagall's constricting pupils.