Chapter 118: To trust people or books, that is the question

Mrs. Mary's funeral was over, but Eda didn't return to Hogwarts immediately. She wanted to stay a little longer, to clear her mind and ease her emotions.

So before heading to the cemetery, Eda had sent her owl to Hogwarts with a leave request.

Professor McGonagall's reply didn't arrive until the evening—she had approved Eda's request. She would come to the orphanage on Saturday afternoon to escort Eda back to school.

In her letter, Professor McGonagall offered a few words of comfort, but most of it was filled with strict instructions.

She forbade Eda from leaving Little Whinging and advised her not to stray too far from the orphanage. If anything happened, she was to report it immediately—no acting on her own.

After lights-out, Eda lay in bed with her eyes open. She had been tossing and turning for half the night, yet sleep refused to come. With a swift motion, she sat up, threw on her coat, and left her room.

The children were all asleep, and the only sound in the hallway was her own footsteps. Guided by the dim corridor lights, Eda made her way downstairs.

Holding her wand, she walked toward the entrance hall. The front door was usually locked at night, so she would need to use the Unlocking Charm to get outside.

In the wizarding world, locks were more of a formality than a real defense. The Unlocking Charm was recorded in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, meaning even first-year students could learn it.

Unless your lock was the same kind used in the underground vaults of Gringotts, it wouldn't even keep out a first-year.

If a wizard couldn't even perform an Unlocking Charm, Eda seriously believed they should go back to Hogwarts for retraining—and this time, they should have to pay tuition.

Of course, there were other options—choosing a Secret Keeper to place a Fidelius Charm on a house or carving protective magic arrays into its structure, like Hogwarts.

Standing in the entrance hall, Eda noticed that tonight, the door wasn't locked—it was only slightly ajar. Pushing it open a little further, she slipped through the gap and stepped into the yard.

On this moonless night, Eda wasn't the only one in the yard—Ms. Valente was there as well. 

She was dressed in the same fashion as Eda, wearing a coat over her pajamas. She sat on the same bench that Mrs. Mary had once occupied, a half-empty bottle of gin at her feet. Her hair was loose and disheveled, making her look completely different from how she appeared during the day. 

Ms. Valente took a cigarette from her case and placed it between her lips.

The silver lighter clicked softly as the flint struck, and a small flame leapt to life at her fingertips. For a moment, the glow of the cigarette seemed like an orange-red flower blooming against the cold loneliness of the May night. 

Smoking, drinking—if she got a perm, she'd have the full set. But tonight, Ms. Valente allowed herself to be vulnerable, like a lost child who couldn't find their way home. 

Blue smoke curled upward, shrouding her in a haze. There was an unexpected beauty in the sight—melancholy, yet oddly captivating. 

Eda hadn't intended to disturb her. She figured Ms. Valente wouldn't want to be seen like this. But it was too late—Eda had already noticed her, and she had noticed Eda as well. 

Ms. Valente hurriedly tried to put out her cigarette, but Eda waved a hand, signaling that she didn't mind. 

"You can't sleep either?" Ms. Valente cleared her throat as she spoke. 

Eda walked over and sat down to her right. Even though Eda had already indicated that she didn't care about the smoking, Ms. Valente still switched the cigarette to her left hand and shifted slightly, putting a little more distance between them.

"You're thinking about Mrs. Mary too?" Eda asked. 

"Yes," Ms. Valente sighed. "She was such a kind person—why did she have to suffer so much in the end? If God was going to take her, why couldn't it have been in a less painful way?" She exhaled heavily and took a sharp swig from the gin bottle at her feet. 

Eda didn't know how to comfort the disheartened Ms. Valente. Mrs. Mary had passed away—Eda was the one who should be comforted. How had the roles reversed? 

"This world has never been fair," Eda said. "Some children are born with silver spoons in their mouths, while others grow up in orphanages. Some people indulge in luxury every day, while others struggle to survive." 

"Yes… this world has never been fair," Ms. Valente murmured, repeating Eda's words. "Every time I close my eyes, I see Mrs. Mary's face. Looking at her felt like looking at my own future. When I die, will I suffer just as much? And the children I've cared for—will they come back to see me?" 

As another orphanage head without children of her own, Ms. Valente couldn't help but relate to Mrs. Mary. The thought made her question everything she had dedicated her life to. She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide her expression from Eda. 

"Mrs. Mary saved my life," Eda said softly. "When I was at my lowest, she was the one who lit the way for me. She gave me the courage to keep believing in the light, even in the darkest times." 

She hoped her words would comfort Ms. Valente because the truth was—Mrs. Mary had done everything for Eda. She had saved her from freezing to death. She had consoled her when she was abandoned. She had been the first warmth Eda had known in this world. 

And now, Ms. Valente was doing the same for other children—giving them hope, guiding them toward a brighter future.

In comforting Ms. Valente, wasn't Eda also comforting herself?

"I should get some rest," Ms. Valente said, straightening her posture. "Tomorrow… tomorrow I have a charity donation to negotiate!" It seemed she had regained some of her usual energy. Then, she added with a small smile, "I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around."

"It's alright, ma'am," Eda replied with a grin. "There are plenty of people waiting to comfort me!" She had Fred and George, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Professor McGonagall. And maybe, in the future, there would be even more people who cared about her.

"Haha.. You are a nice person Eda. Good night."

After Ms. Valente left, Eda used a Vanishing Spell to clean up the cigarette butts and empty gin bottle. Then, she sat alone in the courtyard, watching as the sky slowly brightened in the east.

By the next day, Ms. Valente showed no trace of her previous night's exhaustion. She was back to being the sharp and capable head of the orphanage, effortlessly securing the charity donation. Within a few days, the funds would be put to use.

Eda, however, was nothing like the mature and understanding girl from the night before.

She spent her days aimlessly wandering the town, looking around at everything with the air of a street loafer. All she was missing was a messenger bag and a pack of cigarettes tucked into her pocket—though, perhaps, this was the worst defamation those cigarettes had ever suffered.

On Friday afternoon, the weather was stiflingly hot, and the streets were nearly empty.

In a small playground not far from Privet Drive, Eda sat alone on a swing, absently rocking back and forth with a blank expression. There was something on her mind, something she couldn't quite make sense of, and it was starting to irritate her.

Back at school, the twins had been bored and decided to flip through her copy of Modern Advances in Dark Magic. That in itself wasn't a big deal—except they had stumbled upon a mention of Glover Cecil in its pages. Naturally, they immediately sent the booklet to Eda.

Eda had no right to disclose anything about Cecil, which was why she had never told the twins his story. And she certainly wasn't surprised to find him mentioned in the book.

Of course, that was what she had thought before. But after reading Modern Advances in Dark Magic, Eda's mouth fell open so wide that she could have fit an entire egg inside.

The book's account of Glover Cecil's family, background, and time at the Ministry of Magic all matched exactly with what he had told her. However, from the moment he left the Ministry, the book's version of events completely contradicted his own story.

According to Cecil, he had left the Ministry after his mother and sister were murdered by Dark wizards. Grief-stricken, he had devoted himself to studying Dark magic, only to be ensnared by its power, ultimately making a terrible mistake. He had painted himself as a tragic figure, a victim who had lost everything.

But Modern Advances in Dark Magic told a very different tale. It claimed that Cecil was the one who had murdered another man's mother and sister. That man, the true victim, was named Joyce.

For the sake of his Dark magic experiments, Cecil had harmed others multiple times. If Dumbledore hadn't arrived in time, not a single Auror sent to capture him would have survived.

Though Cecil had committed many crimes, few actually knew the full extent of his evil deeds. To the general public, he was merely another Dark wizard whom Dumbledore had personally taken down. After all, shortly after his capture, Britain saw the rise of an even greater and more terrifying Dark Lord—Voldemort.

Compared to Voldemort's horrors, Glover Cecil wasn't even worth mentioning.

While Cecil served his sentence in Azkaban, his own family was slaughtered by Joyce, who had become just as obsessed with Dark magic as Cecil once was. Cecil had used Dark magic to destroy another man's life, and in the end, someone else had used the same means to take away his loved ones.

Two versions of the same event.

Eda couldn't tell which one was true.

And if Cecil's story was a lie… then why had he deceived her in the first place?

To trust people or books, that is the question...

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