"I don't understand!" Grindelwald exclaimed, confronting Dumbledore after classes, pointing to a group of young witches and wizards heading towards the Forbidden Forest through the panoramic window. "Look, Lockhart is gaining immense influence among the students. This is precisely what you feared when you so desperately tried to prevent Tom from coming to Hogwarts."
"So, I truly don't understand why you would permit such a thing?"
Dumbledore slowly approached the window, gazing down at the students and, a short distance away, Snape, who was hesitating whether to follow. He pursed his lips, offering no immediate reply.
"Oh, look! Your 'Boy Who Lived' whom you so painstakingly built up, scions of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, rare elite Muggle-born wizards, student representatives, prefects…" Grindelwald continued his persistent grumbling.
"Gellert," Dumbledore sighed, removing his spectacles and wearily rubbing the bridge of his nose. He finally uttered the answer he himself seemed reluctant to face. "I am old."
"Hmm?" Grindelwald turned, looking at Dumbledore in astonishment.
Old Dumbledore gave a weary shrug. "In the decades since I defeated you, I haven't felt much triumph or joy. Every day has been a struggle…" He exhaled slowly, his gaze somewhat clouded as he watched the young wizards disappear into the Forbidden Forest. "I have no desire to bear the burden of confronting that fiend, Tom. That madman constantly leaves one exhausted."
He was old. Truly old. Otherwise, he wouldn't speak such words, looking upon Voldemort's existence with such discouragement and pessimism. He was genuinely opening his heart, sharing thoughts he rarely, if ever, spoke to others—like how deeply he loathed that lunatic, Tom. He cared not a jot for Tom's feelings towards him; in fact, he found it quite revolting. Being desired by such a vicious yet muddle-headed wretch was hardly a pleasant experience. He wished Tom would drop dead immediately, caring not who delivered the final blow, just that he ceased to be. He had no desire to redeem the soul of that madman. He, Dumbledore, was always quite forgiving; be it a thief or a misguided Snape, he was willing to offer them a chance. But for Tom, that vile remnant, death truly was the best outcome!
"Perhaps this is no longer my era. I once gathered a great many people I believed in, formed the Order of the Phoenix, hoping they would confront Voldemort, hoping they would usher in a new age for this world."
Grindelwald listened in silence, then let out a scoff. "It seems you failed, then? There's no new age, and you're still struggling to hold on."
Dumbledore nodded. "My greatest initial hope was Minerva [Professor McGonagall]. Her talent in Transfiguration rivaled ours, but she lacked great ambition. You know, those without ambition rarely achieve truly great things."
In truth, Dumbledore had placed his hopes in far too many. He wished these individuals would rise to the occasion, that they would lead others into a new era, an era that wouldn't require Dumbledore himself. Benjy Fenwick, the Prewett brothers (Molly Weasley's two elder brothers), Marlene McKinnon, Caradoc Dearborn, Dorcas Meadowes, the Longbottoms, the Potters… So many wizards, with such promising futures, failed to survive those arduous war years. Despite their extraordinary talents, they were either lost to death or suffered irreversible, permanent injuries, their futures forever extinguished. And even among those who remained active – Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, and even the turncoat Severus Snape – all of them felt as if they were lacking, just a little bit.
"Conversely, I initially held no expectations for Lockhart," Dumbledore said, his gaze fixed on the distant Forbidden Forest. "But he has provided me with countless delightful surprises."
Grindelwald looked at Dumbledore's utterly exhausted visage with a touch of melancholy. He knew full well that once a person lost their fighting spirit, they could achieve nothing more.
"Perhaps…" Dumbledore looked back at Grindelwald, but ultimately shook his head. "I had considered releasing you, but I clearly foresaw war, a terrible war."
Grindelwald curled his lip in displeasure but said nothing further. He had always been a proud man, disinclined to speak of his inner turmoil, even to those closest to him.
After a moment of silence, perhaps sensing the oppressive atmosphere, Grindelwald changed the subject. "So, you now hope Lockhart will take up your mantle and lead wizards into the future? Are you truly certain he can achieve it?"
Dumbledore offered a faint smile. "You are the Seer, you should be able to see the future more clearly than I."
"The future is always elusive," Grindelwald narrowed his eyes. "I can only glimpse certain possibilities in Lockhart."
"That is enough…" Dumbledore turned and walked towards his desk, picking up a Every Flavor Bean from a dish and popping it into his mouth, chewing. "I can always hold on for a few more years."
"No!" Grindelwald suddenly opened his eyes wide, looking at Dumbledore with deep suspicion. "I suspect you were trying to trick me with your words just now!"
"Everyone says I'm good at charming people, but only I know that it was you who first spoke to me of 'the greater good.' You always use what appear to be the most righteous and noble words to guide others. You are the true master of charming!"
"You're hoping I'll do something to help Lockhart, aren't you?"
Dumbledore put his spectacles back on, looking quite resigned. "Don't always think the worst of people!"
"Hmph," Grindelwald merely scoffed.
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The young witches and wizards, ever enthusiastic and restless, excitedly made their way to Professor Lockhart's new home, despite the considerable trek. Some of the previous N.E.W.T. students had joined the Duelling Club, with the Weasley siblings being particularly prominent, making one marvel at the burgeoning success of the Weasley family: Percy, George, Fred, Ron, and Ginny. It was quite amusing, however, that while these Weasleys shared a deep bond, they each had their own little groups and didn't always stick together.
Sometimes, one had to acknowledge this truth: the members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, those who reaped the rewards of victory over Voldemort, were almost exclusively pure-blood families, many of them from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. This wasn't meant as a criticism; on the contrary, it showed many the future Dumbledore envisioned – that a significant number of pure-blood families would, in fact, be quite accepting of Muggle-born wizards.
"Professor, why aren't you continuing as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor? Why have you become the Care of Magical Creatures professor instead?" one young wizard curiously inquired. Not everyone was aware of the purported curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, as it was merely an unconfirmed rumour, and some simply didn't believe it.
"Magical creatures are an essential part of a wizard's life," Lockhart said, smiling at the young ones before him. "Whether they are Dark creatures, fantastic beasts, or any other magical creature." This principle was quite similar to pure-blood wizards embracing Muggle-borns: wizards embracing magical creatures would also lead to many wonderful things.
"Don't dismiss Care of Magical Creatures just because it's an elective starting in third year, thinking it's not very important for a wizard. In truth, it has long been woven into every wizard's life." Lockhart then posed a question. "Do you remember what you prepared for, after receiving your Hogwarts acceptance letters in your first year, before coming to school?"
That's an easy one! Harry would never forget the beginning of his magical life. "Wands, robes, textbooks, and pets!"
"Precisely," Lockhart scanned the crowd, then looked at Hermione. "Hermione, I've asked you to begin researching ceremonial magic. Tell us, what is the symbolic meaning of each of these items?"
Hermione proudly lifted her chin, looking utterly confident. "Wizards' robes represent a change in wizarding identity, textbooks are magical knowledge, wands are an extension and strengthening of one's will and magic, and pets bring about a complete change in lifestyle!"
Identity, knowledge, magic, life… Especially pets. From the moment one acquired a magical pet, life truly changed. Hermione had initially been reluctant to accept these strange wizarding pets; she hadn't even considered it in her first and second years, not even getting an owl. After experiencing a few things last school year, she had pondered magical life more deeply and finally made a decision this summer, purchasing a cat that looked as if its head had been flattened—Crookshanks.
To be honest, most magical creature pets didn't have any extraordinary functions; they primarily served as companions for children. Having too many powerful magical abilities would, in fact, be rather dangerous. So, whether it was Neville's toad, Harry's owl, Ron's rat, or Hermione's cat, they all seemed rather ordinary to wizards, almost subconsciously not considered true 'fantastic beasts.' But Hermione, coming from a Muggle family, felt the difference between magical creatures and ordinary animals so clearly.
"He's like a human!" Hermione's mother had exclaimed about Crookshanks, excitedly holding a copy of The Frog Prince and wondering, "Is he a transformed prince or princess?"
"He's not like our Muggle cats. Even if he looks similar, he's truly different," Hermione's father had said. "I've never seen such an amazing cat!"
Indeed, even a seemingly ordinary housecat, so unremarkable it was barely considered a fantastic beast, was truly magical in the eyes of Muggles. Hermione's cat could genuinely do backflips! And this, precisely, was Lockhart's point: magical creatures entering Muggle homes brought with them a taste of magical life. In fact, owls were probably the most common. Many Muggle families with young wizards would keep an owl to send letters to their children when they were away at Hogwarts. And this change in lifestyle would have an incredibly subtle impact. According to Lockhart's theories, such Muggle families would subsequently be more likely to produce more wizards.
"Harmless, domesticated, fantastic beasts have a wondrous and intriguing future development ahead of them." Lockhart smiled and beckoned the young wizards towards the edge of the forest. He whistled, and a group of Kneazles leaped down from the trees, pattering towards them. In his eyes, Kneazles had incredible potential. They existed as powerful magical creatures in the wizarding world and as ordinary cats in the Muggle world. What better creature to integrate into Muggle life? Cats and dogs were, after all, the pets most easily accepted by humans. The only problem was—Kneazles were rather ugly!
"Students, the new Duelling Club lessons are about to begin!" Lockhart led the young wizards in another direction into the Forbidden Forest. "Allow me to introduce the new teacher I've found for you!"
Snape, who had finally decided to come, had just reached the edge of the forest. He was about to stride forward when he froze, his mind reeling. What? Lockhart had replaced him? Had he even agreed to this? What did this mean? His gaze turned dangerously sharp. His cunning mind had already deduced which new professor Lockhart would introduce to teach them in the Duelling Club!
Lupin! Who else could it be but that fellow, Lupin! That accursed Gilderoy Lockhart!
"Hagrid!" Lockhart called out, "Rubeus Hagrid, expert in Care of Magical Creatures, a master in the field of breeding!"
Snape instantly froze. The young witches and wizards were also dumbfounded.
"Him?" Draco almost snorted with laughter. "That oaf?"
"What do you mean?" Harry glared coldly at Draco. "What right do you have to make such an expression about Hagrid?"
Draco sneered, about to retort, when he suddenly saw Ron already pointing his wand at him, looking as if to say, 'You'd best choose your words carefully, or I'll hex you on the spot.' Hermione, too, stepped forward, staring intently at Draco. "Please show respect to others, or you'll find others won't respect you!"
Draco rolled his eyes, clearly displeased.
"Children!" Professor Lockhart called out with a smile. "Come on, I'll take you to Hagrid. He already has several new species he's bred!"
"And he's taking care of many wolf cubs over there. You'll simply adore these werewolves; they're truly beautiful!"
"Next, we are stepping into a brand new realm: Magical Creature Breeding. Those who adore magical creatures can learn the wondrous techniques involved. For those not pursuing this path, observing the flow of magic and magical changes within these creatures will be incredibly beneficial."
Snape remained silent, merely following along, but a flicker of anticipation crossed his face. Yes, anticipation. In truth, Potions had two fundamental foundations: Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Of course, Potion Masters didn't need to concern themselves with the cultivation of magical plants or the rearing of magical creatures; their focus was more on application.
But breeding? This would undoubtedly expand the depth and breadth of the Potions field immensely, bringing more possibilities to potions. He had recently been pondering how to heal the Longbottoms from the Cruciatus Curse's effects; many past potions offered little aid. Perhaps new species would bring forth these possibilities. Especially… those werewolf cubs? His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint, considering how he might procure one from Hagrid to dissect and experiment with for a potion.
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