Harry walked straight toward a small wooden cabin situated outside the school.
The grass on the school grounds had grown tall, and weeds were everywhere. Hagrid was slowly trimming the lawn patch by patch.
Yep, a diligent gardener.
"Hagrid," Harry called out loudly.
Hagrid stood up, turned his head, and saw Harry. He raised the huge pair of shears in his hand and waved happily. "Harry!"
"What brings you to school?" Hagrid glanced at the sun, finally noticing the evening glow on the horizon. He finished his work and walked with Harry toward his hut.
"My Magic Castle shop is doing very well. I'm planning to open two more branches, one each in the other two wizarding districts in the UK. But I haven't been to those places before, so I was hoping you'd come with me," Harry said bluntly.
"No problem at all. But you'll have to wait a couple of days. I need to finish trimming the weeds. Otherwise, by the time I get back, who knows how overgrown they'll be. Looks like I'll need to go to Diagon Alley and buy some weedkiller. The grass grows too wild in the summer," Hagrid said helplessly.
"No worries, I happen to need to stay at school for two days as well. Headmaster Dumbledore is here, right?"
"Of course. Apart from going home twice a year for a few days, the rest of the time he's either visiting old friends or helping those useless sods at the Ministry with piles of trouble. The rest of the time he stays at school."
Harry rarely saw Dumbledore, even though in Dumbledore's mind, Harry was someone very special.
He only observed Harry from a distance, never frequently engaging with him or trying to forcibly instill his ideals.
Instead, he let Harry grow freely, only stepping in during moments of confusion to offer guidance—along with a hearty dose of soul-soothing chicken soup under the name of universal love, motherly love, and compassion—so Harry wouldn't stray down the wrong path.
As a result, Harry's impression of Dumbledore was quite vague. Now, hearing Hagrid describe Dumbledore's daily life, a few words surfaced in Harry's mind: a lonely old man.
What's more, years ago, Dumbledore's sister was accidentally killed by a misfired spell. He'd blamed himself ever since, living with regret and guilt for years.
Looked at this way, Dumbledore really was just a pitiable old man.
Harry didn't like tragedy. He found himself thinking about whether there might be a way to cheer Dumbledore up.
But then he reconsidered—who was Dumbledore, really? In his youth, he'd been very close with the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald. The two had once planned a "greater good" mission. His past was utterly chaotic—practically Voldemort 1.0, if not worse. Yet in his old age, he became a symbol of righteousness. He'd veered off the path and somehow corrected course on his own—how many people could do that?
His willpower was far beyond what ordinary people could imagine. He'd walked more roads than Harry had eaten grains of salt. He didn't need Harry to enlighten him. And even if he did wallow in his past pain, that was his choice. No one was forcing him.
…
Leaving Hagrid's hut, Harry made his way toward the headmaster's office.
The school was incredibly quiet. The usual scenes of boys laughing and chatting loudly about Quidditch in the hallways were gone. It was all very empty.
Although the silence was slightly uncomfortable, Harry felt cheerful again when he thought about how, in just over a month, the place would be bustling once more—with a bunch of timid first-years, too afraid to break any rules.
Dumbledore was seated at his massive round desk… emmm… seriously eating a cream cake, eyes closed, wearing a blissful expression.
He hadn't expected anyone to visit at this hour. When he opened his eyes and saw Harry, a flicker of confusion crossed his face: Wait… isn't that…?
Oh… he realized.
Then he calmly shoved the half-eaten box of cream cake into a drawer and composed his expression with a serene smile.
Harry said nothing.
"Harry, what brings you here?" Dumbledore asked, face composed, with mild curiosity.
"I want to learn Apparition," Harry replied calmly, as if the sight of Dumbledore just now hadn't happened at all. He casually admired the portraits of former headmasters on the wall.
"You want to what?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.
"I've already finished learning all the curriculum from first to seventh year. But I haven't learned Apparition yet," Harry explained.
Dumbledore had been at Hogwarts for over fifty years. In all that time, he'd only seen two students who could be called prodigies, learning seventh-year spells in their first year.
One was Tom Riddle. The other was Severus Snape.
Now, it seemed he had to add a third.
He looked at the portraits of former headmasters. They were all smiling at Harry from their frames. One of them, unknown which era he belonged to, was making silly faces.
Harry couldn't help but think that, a few years from now, Dumbledore and Snape's portraits would also be hanging there.
Dumbledore, of course, had no idea Harry was already "mourning" his death in advance—imagining the moment he'd be immortalized on the wall.
Dumbledore nodded and said, "I can teach you Apparition…"
Two seconds later.
Harry asked, "No 'but'?"
Dumbledore froze briefly, then realized what Harry meant. "Of course, no 'but'."
The two immediately decided to begin training.
Dumbledore led the way toward the classroom used by sixth-years for spell practice.
As they passed a carved stone pillar decorated with horses and warriors, Dumbledore turned around and asked casually, "You've read a lot of books in the library, right? Have you ever heard of the spell Legilimency?"
"Yeah, I've seen it mentioned. One book on Voldemort said he had the ability to detect lies, so no one dared betray him. The author speculated that he must've mastered Legilimency very well."
Dumbledore looked as if he'd caught Harry in the act and smiled. "You must've snuck into the Restricted Section. As far as I know, that kind of book isn't in the open shelves."
Harry shot him a glance—one that carried enormous weight. "Cut the act. You think I don't know it was you who gave me the Invisibility Cloak? You wanted me to do sneaky things."
Dumbledore looked a bit sheepish and then asked, "How did you know I gave you the cloak?"
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