The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class ended, and the young witches and wizards walked through the corridors in small groups.
They chatted eagerly about the lesson, their excitement far from faded.
Soon, students who had just finished other classes began to converge on the corridor from all directions.
The atmosphere in the corridor grew lively as many older students spotted the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years and hurried over to ask about Professor Wick's class...
Harry and his friends trailed at the very back of the crowd.
Neville, however, looked rather distressed.
"Neville, what's wrong?" Harry noticed his unusual behavior.
"Harry, do you think... I shouldn't have asked to keep watching the projection?" Neville looked up, a bitter smile playing on his lips.
His impulsive request felt like it had ripped open a scar Professor Wick had kept hidden for years, leaving him consumed with guilt.
"Neville, you didn't know. Everyone knows that, and Professor Wick knows it too. There's no reason to blame yourself. He ended up showing us the rest anyway, right? That means he doesn't hold it against you," Harry patted Neville on the shoulder to comfort him.
"Yeah, Neville, it's fine," Ron added.
Hermione held her books tight, her expression serious. "I actually think... Professor Wick was giving us a personal demonstration of what true courage looks like."
"Huh?" The three boys looked at her in confusion, not following her train of thought.
"Think about how much courage it takes to face the scars of your past! Yet Professor Wick barely hesitated before continuing the lesson... And don't forget, these are projections he pulled from his own memories. That means when he was making that mirror, he had to tear those scars open himself..."
Hermione took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the cover of her textbook.
'Putting herself in his shoes, she didn't think she could ever do such a thing...'
"Maybe... this isn't the first time he's had to do that..." Harry sighed softly.
As his understanding of Voldemort and the Death Eaters grew, Harry could only imagine how suffocating Victor Wick's years spent in the enemy camp must have been.
They fell silent for a long moment.
"I need to find a chance to apologize to Professor Wick," Neville whispered. "But before that, I'm going to write to my parents. If I can learn more about the professor from them, I won't make such a stupid mistake again."
Frank and Alice Longbottom had only ever told Neville about Wick's achievements, never mentioning the hardships he had endured.
He vaguely remembered that whenever his parents spoke of Professor Wick, his grandmother, listening nearby, would always have a look of deep sympathy on her face.
"Tell us too, if you can. We promise not to tell anyone," Hermione said, glancing at Ron.
Among them, Ron was the one most prone to boasting and the least likely to keep a secret.
This time, however, Ron surprisingly didn't object to Hermione's look; he simply nodded in silence.
...
As soon as Victor Wick stepped out of the mirror, he saw Dumbledore.
The old man was leaning against a desk, a gentle smile on his face. "I should have invited you to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts much sooner. This mirror... it truly allows the children to grasp the theoretical knowledge of the subject far more effectively."
"You shouldn't be here right now." Victor turned and pulled the red velvet curtain back over the mirror.
Dumbledore approached slowly, his expression relaxed. "I am merely checking on the teaching capabilities of the school's newest professor. Thus, this meeting is perfectly reasonable. It would be far more suspicious if I had no contact with you at all."
Victor instinctively glanced toward the door.
"Rest assured, Victor, I have sealed this room; no one can overhear us. As for your very diligent assistant, Mr. Shafiq, I have already sent him on his way." Dumbledore's bright blue eyes peered cheerfully over his half-moon spectacles.
Upon hearing this, Victor's tense shoulders relaxed slightly.
"So, what did you think of my first lesson?"
Victor gathered his books, standing at the lectern as he looked at the old man.
"Absolutely brilliant! I dare say your lessons are far more exciting than mine ever were!" Dumbledore sighed softly. "You may not know this, but I once held the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor myself. Back then, the world was not nearly as peaceful as it is now—at least, not on the surface."
He looked at Victor again before continuing, "However... aren't some of your viewpoints a bit too radical? Or perhaps, a bit premature for students who have only just arrived?"
"Is that so..." Victor set down the neatly stacked books and looked the old man in the eye, his voice carrying a subtle weight. "I am merely teaching them the lessons I learned years ago at the cost of countless blood and tears. You might find it radical, but it's better than letting them pay that same price to learn it themselves. Flowers grown in a greenhouse cannot withstand a storm."
Victor was a man who had been caught in the rain, and now, he wanted to hold an umbrella over these young people.
Dumbledore sighed softly, his gaze drifting toward the classroom window.
Outside, the lingering light of the setting sun filtered through the glass, casting golden squares across the floor.
"Perhaps you are right, Victor..."
"You're actually here to ask about my meeting with the Dark Lord last night, aren't you?" Victor looked at Dumbledore. "Do you really want to discuss that here?"
"Oh... this is indeed not the best place for such a conversation. Why don't you come to my office? We can have dinner together." Dumbledore smiled at him.
Victor shook his head. "Follow me."
He turned, pulled back the curtain once more, and stepped into the mirror.
Dumbledore's silver eyebrows twitched upward, and then he followed suit, stepping into the mirror with a brisk stride.
He entered the mirror, surveying the white wasteland with great interest, until a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes...
"Nicolas would be so proud if he knew what you were capable of now. You should make time to visit him..."
"I'd rather stay away from innocent people. Too many have died because of me already... This mirror shares some functions with a Pensieve. I can show you my memories from last night directly; that way, I won't have to talk as much. My throat is a bit dry after back-to-back lessons." As Victor spoke, he gave a light wave of his hand.
The surrounding white wasteland transformed instantly into a moonlit Hogwarts corridor...
The Victor in the memory was standing before a door—the entrance to Quirrell's office.
From behind the door, the faint, muffled sound of whimpering could be heard...
This was indeed the memory of Victor's encounter with the Dark Lord the previous night.
Inside Quirrell's office.
Dumbledore watched calmly as the memory versions of Victor and Quirrell spoke, until... Quirrell unwrapped his turban, revealing the face on the back of his head.
Victor could clearly sense Dumbledore's gaze turning sharp and piercing at that exact moment.
The look vanished as quickly as it had appeared...
After ten minutes or so, Victor waved his hand, and the surroundings reverted to the white wasteland.
"Did you notice anything?" Victor asked, looking at the contemplative Dumbledore.
"His current state is even more wretched than we imagined. He is less than a ghost... forced to possess Quirrell." Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and began cleaning them meticulously with a white cloth. "Before he found Quirrell, he likely existed in this state by possessing animals, barely clinging to life..."
Dumbledore slid the glasses back onto his crooked nose. "However... no one except Harry has ever survived a Killing Curse. There is no doubt the rebounded spell should have killed him... Yet, he has managed to survive through some contingency, persisting in another form and potentially even capable of resurrection under the right conditions... This matter may be far more complicated than we anticipated, Victor..."
"You have a theory, don't you?" Victor stared into Dumbledore's blue eyes.
Dumbledore shrugged. "A small one... but I need firm evidence before I can be sure. Victor, I only hope my suspicion is wrong."