"I am indeed considering this plan." Dumbledore looked straight at Vid and said calmly, "After all, you're the one who got hold of this diary. I think I need to ask your opinion first."
That day, Lucius Malfoy had, for a time, fallen into Braun's control. But when Vid later contacted them, he learned that Grindelwald had not taken Lucius back to Gray Castle—
After that fellow sent a letter to Dumbledore, he slipped away the moment he sensed things might go wrong, and the Witch Pure Party members had received Braun's prior instructions, so they did not stop him.
"How are we supposed to make sure that turncoat will cooperate?" Vid frowned and said, "Honestly, I can't trust that man."
"Don't worry, he will cooperate."
Dumbledore showed a sly smile and said slowly, "Otherwise… when Voldemort discovers there's a problem with his Soul Artifact, no matter how Lucius tries to prove his loyalty, he'll hardly escape death."
Vid's eyes lit up. "You mean… the diary…?"
Dumbledore gave a slight nod. "We can't really let a Soul Artifact drain a life dry and then go kill another one… The innocent shouldn't suffer for this, but we have to wrap the trap in honey before we can place it into the enemy's hands."
Vid finally relaxed and smiled. "As long as this can completely deal with Voldemort, you can handle that diary however you like. I have no objections."
After a brief pause, he added softly, "If there's anything I can help with… Professor, just say the word."
Dumbledore, unusually, was taken aback. His eyes widened slightly, his gaze going unfocused for a moment.
Even when Vid rose to his feet and took his leave, Dumbledore seemed more silent than usual. Considering he already had more than enough on his mind lately, Vid was not surprised.
Dumbledore was not made of iron; there were times when he needed rest as well.
"Click."
When the office door closed softly, the old Headmaster found himself standing before the window without realizing it.
It was deep into the night, pitch black outside the window, the panes reflecting only his own figure.
Yet in Dumbledore's eyes, it was as if he could see a great many young figures—
James Potter was leaning against the fireplace, habitually tossing and catching the Golden Snitch in his hand, grinning:
"Don't worry, Professor… As long as Lily and the baby are safe, I can go anywhere and do anything."
Lily gently stroked her belly, the swelling now visible:
"If my Magic Spell can protect an innocent person, then it deserves to be used."
Frank Longbottom lowered his head slightly:
"So what if I'm Pure-Blood? I just want to do what I can—to fight the Dark Wizard, whoever he is."
Edgar Bones showed a radiant smile and gave a thumbs-up:
"I don't want to be a coward, Headmaster… Death isn't all that terrifying."
Caradoc Dearborn's face, however, was full of hatred:
"My sister died at the hands of the Death Eaters, Albus… If you won't let me onto the battlefield, I'll go on my own…"
Gideon Pwet, playing chess, smiled with composure:
"Moli just had the baby… If that child grows up and asks me—Uncle, why is the world such a mess, how am I supposed to answer? Haha, to avoid that happening, we have to fight with everything we've got right now!"
His younger brother Fébian said calmly:
"As long as someone is still resisting, the Mysterious Man will never truly win—checkmate, Gideon, you've lost."
Phoenix Fawkes beat his wings and dipped his head to peck lightly at Dumbledore's finger, and only then did he wake from his reverie.
When he focused his eyes, there was clearly nothing on the glass but his own reflection.
"Always like this…"
He murmured under his breath, "It's always like this… The bravest people say the most ordinary things."
Everyone trusted him, but at times like this Dumbledore always felt as though he were being scorched by a blazing sun, forced to expose the darkest corner deep inside his heart.
That place… was cowardly, despicable, greedy, seething with many dark thoughts, as if he would sink into them if he slipped for even a moment.
He blinked, looking at the venerable old Headmaster before him, then raised his hand and softly wiped across the window.
The night outside suddenly came into sharp focus: the quiet grounds lay empty, the lake like a black mirror.
But come tomorrow morning… just a few hours from now, the lush green lawns would be full of running, jumping children, their clear laughter riding the morning breeze up into the sky, faintly audible even in the Headmaster's Office.
Just like the students, Dumbledore actually loved these days right before the holidays the most—students freed of pressure poured out all their passion and youth; laughter and song could be heard all over the grounds, and many rode their Brooms freely through the air like unbound birds.
Imagining that scene, it was as if he had found his anchor again—not a particular person, not immense Magic Power, nor some wondrous Magic Items, but this ever-vital land itself.
On the glass, his dim eyes once more recovered their wisdom and calm, blue as the wide open sky.
Dumbledore took off his glasses and wiped them, then put them back on.
When he lifted his head, it was as though he saw many smiling figures behind him again.
"It won't be long now…"
He said silently in his heart:
"After the diary, there's only the Golden Cup left… Voldemort's soul can no longer endure the pain of being split further; this really is the end…"
"It won't be long before we strangle him, bit by bit… leaving him no hope of resurrection ever again…"
...
"Click!"
With a soft sound, a small flame sprang up. Narcissa was holding a candlestick, climbing the stairs step by step.
When she pushed open the study door, she saw her husband leaning haggardly by the window, carefully lifting the heavy curtains to open a slit, peeking out in secret.
"There's no one outside, I checked." Narcissa said softly, setting the candlestick down on the desk.
"Better to be cautious." Lucius Malfoy said quietly, still wary, then pulled a map from the bookshelf and ran his finger back and forth over it.
"You're still looking for places to hide?" Narcissa asked gently. "You know his Magic… as long as you still have the Dark Mark on your arm, he can find us."
Lucius mused aloud, "What do you think… if I cut off my own arm?"
"It's not impossible, but we can't hide forever." Narcissa reached out and took his arm. "Draco's holiday is coming up. We have to pick him up."
Lucius Malfoy's expression stiffened slightly. Holding his arm and his wife's icy hand, he could not help but show a hint of regret.