Chapter 130: Old Stories Revisited

Eda stepped out from behind the door, dressed in an oversized hospital gown and shuffling in a pair of slippers. For a fleeting moment, Professor McGonagall felt as if she had been transported back to the first time she met Eda. Back then, Lady Mary was still alive, and Eda had been just a twelve-year-old girl who had never encountered magic before. In the blink of an eye, two years had passed, and Eda had grown into a witch capable of handling things on her own. 

"When I woke up and didn't see Professor McGonagall, I came out to have a look..." Eda said. The loose hospital gown seemed to add an extra touch of frailty to her words, making her sound even more pitiful. 

At this moment, Eda looked just like a sick child whose mother wasn't there to comfort her. But this seemingly delicate girl had managed to accomplish things that many fully grown wizards couldn't. 

The three of them returned to the hospital ward. With a casual wave of Dumbledore's hand, the room instantly became quiet—the other patients wouldn't disturb them, and no one outside the three of them would be able to hear their conversation. 

"Eda, tell me everything that happened, especially the details of your fight with them," Dumbledore said as he conjured a chair. As he spoke, he also began picking through the snacks Professor McGonagall had bought. 

Sitting on the hospital bed, Eda carefully recalled the events of the day before she began recounting everything in detail. As she spoke, Dumbledore occasionally asked questions—how she viewed Cecil, why she had made certain choices in battle—questions of that nature. 

Dumbledore nodded and said, "Even last year, I was already amazed by your talent. It has been many years since I have seen someone with a gift like yours."

Eda, rarely seen blushing, turned slightly red—not because she had suddenly become thin-skinned, but because she felt unworthy of the praise.

No matter how hard she worked, she knew that without the system backing her, achieving what she had today would have been nearly impossible, and her future would have been entirely predictable. 

"She hasn't done well enough. She doesn't handle things with enough composure, acts entirely on her own whims, and is far from mature," Professor McGonagall said, as if afraid that Eda's tail would wag itself straight up to the sky. She poured a bucket of cold water over her, drenching her enthusiasm in an instant. 

Eda silently complained in her heart: Who was it today that pulled out their wand at the slightest disagreement?

Not composed at all.

Of course, she only dared to grumble in her mind—she had no intention of being turned into an alarm clock or a map by Professor McGonagall. 

"There's no need to be too harsh. Eda still has time to learn and grow," Dumbledore said with a smile, addressing Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, isn't that precisely why we are here?" 

"And also, for the second year in a row, I must once again apologize to you, Eda," Dumbledore continued. "Glover was a teacher I insisted on hiring against much opposition. When I invited him, I should have considered his stubborn nature. Today's events could have been avoided." 

"I remember at the beginning of the school year, many parents protested your decision, but you still insisted on keeping Professor Cecil," Eda said. While Cecil had taught students a great deal and his lessons were certainly interesting, she had never quite understood why someone with a history as a dark wizard had been allowed to remain at Hogwarts. 

"Do you remember what Fawley said last year?" Dumbledore asked. He didn't wait for Eda's answer before continuing, "He was searching for something—an object that could allow Voldemort to rise again. Over the past year, I have been gathering information on this object. Glover was the person I brought in to help with that search."

None of the three present wished to see Voldemort rise again. Allowing a madman to rule the world would only lead to its destruction. 

"Then… have you found it?" Eda asked. There was no way to reconcile her existence with Voldemort's. Unless she could find a place so well hidden that no one could ever discover her, she would never be able to escape his shadow. 

Dumbledore shook his head and sighed helplessly. "From the day magic was born, dark magic came into existence alongside it—just as everything has two sides. Over centuries of development, the number of texts and manuscripts documenting dark magic has grown vast and immeasurable. I have only just begun to piece together some clues. For now, I still cannot determine exactly what method Voldemort used." 

Their conversation continued, and through Dumbledore's words, Eda came to understand just how much he had prepared for the potential return of Voldemort.

The information he shared was merely a small fragment of a grander scheme—just the tip of the iceberg. Even those within the plan could not fully grasp its entirety. It was likely that Dumbledore had begun laying the groundwork for this strategy the moment Voldemort fell. Now, he was simply waiting for the right moment to set it all in motion. 

Throughout the conversation, Professor McGonagall's attitude toward Eda remained as firm as ever. Beneath her strictness lay a deep care for the girl, and her view of Eda had not changed just because of Eda's growing strength. In her eyes, Eda was still an immature child who needed careful guidance. 

Dumbledore, however, had truly changed his attitude.

Just a year ago, he had regarded Eda as nothing more than a child. Now, he treated her as an accomplished young witch, engaging with her in more thoughtful discussions. 

But as they talked, their conversation gradually strayed off course.

Before long, the elderly wizard and the young girl were deeply embroiled in an argument over something entirely ridiculous—which kind of dessert was the most delicious!

It was hard to tell whether they were doing it on purpose or if they had simply lost all sense of seriousness.

"Fizzing Whizzbees are the best sweets—you really should give them a try," Dumbledore said. Lately, he had grown particularly fond of their rich, syrupy flavor.

"Mrs. Weasley's fudge is far better—sweet but not overwhelming, and it melts in your mouth," Eda countered. "It's a hundred times better than those Fizzing Whizzbees, which are so sweet they'll make your teeth fall out!"

As she finished speaking, she stared at Dumbledore, as if trying to see whether his teeth were still intact.

"You're still young and haven't tried enough things—that's why you think that way. When you reach my age, you'll understand. For your next birthday, I can send you some as a gift," Dumbledore said, playing the "wise elder" card.

Even as he argued with Eda, he was still helping himself to the licorice wands that Professor McGonagall had bought for her.

Eda had no idea exactly how old Dumbledore was, but he had to be well over a hundred. The most beautiful moments are the hardest to hold on to… when youth fades, even the flowers say farewell… She didn't even want to imagine what she would look like at a hundred. By then, she figured she probably wouldn't have the courage to look in a mirror at all.

But at fourteen, Eda still had one major advantage—she could play the "I'm just a kid" card. She patted the bed with her right hand (carefully avoiding her injured left arm) and whined, "I don't care! I still think Mrs. Weasley's sweets are the best!"

Technically speaking, fourteen was a bit too old for such antics, but Professor McGonagall was secretly pleased. Seeing that Eda still had a childish side left in her was, to her, a very good thing.

Dumbledore put on a serious expression and said, "You have every right to believe that Mrs. Weasley's sweets are the best, but I cannot agree with you—because I have never tasted them."

"....."

Professor McGonagall looked at Dumbledore in utter disbelief, her eyes practically spelling out the words "You're lying." She knew for a fact that he had tried them—because she had personally given them to him.

Back in Eda's first year, she had gifted the professors some toffee, which had been made by Mrs. Weasley. Although Eda hadn't given any directly to Dumbledore at the time, McGonagall had shared hers with him afterward.

If Eda hadn't mentioned Mrs. Weasley's fudge today, McGonagall might have forgotten about it entirely. But Dumbledore clearly hadn't—he had held onto this little "grudge" all this time.

Eda realized she couldn't out-argue him, couldn't out-whine him, and definitely couldn't outfight him. If it came to that, Dumbledore could let her and McGonagall team up against him and still have a hand to spare. So she glared at him and declared, "This Christmas, Professor, you are definitely getting a gift from me—a big box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and every single one will be vomit-flavored!"

 Dumbledore: "...I. Would. Be. Thankful!! Hmph!"

It was a truly malicious gift, but if Eda dared to send it, Dumbledore would absolutely dare to accept it. That was just how men's bizarre sense of competition worked—sudden, unpredictable, and completely irrational.

For now, their candy debate was set aside. It was getting late, and Dumbledore had one more question that had been puzzling him. He asked, "Do you remember when you were ten, there was an explosion in the neighborhood near your orphanage?"

Since Dumbledore had decided not to treat Eda as a child anymore, he could no longer investigate this matter behind her back. Doing so would only make her feel resentful, and that was not the outcome he wanted. So instead, he chose to ask her directly about the question that had puzzled him for a long time. 

Eda knew about the explosion, but only because she had heard other children at the orphanage mention it. The original owner of this body had her accident in the summer of her tenth year—the exact same day the explosion occurred.

Because of that, Eda had once suspected that her arrival in this world might be connected to it. However, the original memories from that time were a complete mess. There was no way to confirm whether the magical outburst that saved her had also caused the explosion.

In fact, the moment the magic had surged, the original Eda had lost consciousness entirely. 

Now that Dumbledore was bringing up the past, was he also beginning to suspect that she was connected to the explosion?

Should she tell him her own suspicions?

The magical outburst had saved the original Eda, but it had also harmed her. If it happened again… would she be the one who died next time? 

Eda's mind was full of question marks, hesitation creeping in.

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