Chapter 411: A Kind of Person

In the white expanse of the borderland, black creatures flashed by like woolly balls.

While Wizard Sean Green’s soul ran through the world beyond the veil, his body remained peacefully asleep.

Dumbledore leaned against the door, his beard slightly curled.

“Yes, dreams are such a magical thing—they can reach any land, except another wizard’s dream.”

Dumbledore carried a warm magical lantern; after double-checking that the students were unharmed, he walked down the corridor swept by the night wind, lantern in hand.

But things always have their surprises... Looks like I'm going to have a nice dream tonight?

Far off, Dumbledore’s tall silhouette could be seen cast upon the wall, then swallowed by another shadow.

“Dumbledore?”

Snape, on night patrol, stared coldly at Dumbledore; the old wizard looked unnerved for the first time.

“Ah, Severus, good evening.”

Dumbledore put on his usual smile.

Snape snorted, said nothing, and turned straight toward the hospital wing.

Aside from the hospital wing, what other place on the second floor could draw Dumbledore’s attention?

Perhaps their “Chosen One Potter” had broken his leg again?

Hmph…

Snape’s robes billowed, the black fabric rippling like waves under the moonlight.

Dumbledore stood still, gazing at the knight portraits on the wall, then at the bright full moon outside the window; he said nothing, and the wrinkles on his face slowly, naturally relaxed.

Seconds passed—perhaps minutes.

Dumbledore still had his fingers interlaced, as if waiting; sure enough, a muffled roar soon erupted:

“Dumbledore!”

It was Snape, striding toward Dumbledore, his expression visibly turning furious.

“What have you done?!”

“Ah, Severus, calm down.”

Dumbledore said softly.

“He should be in the dungeons serving detention… not following you, not in the hospital wing…”

Snape leaned in coldly, his voice squeezed from his throat.

“Severus, it was merely an accident.”

Dumbledore explained.

“An accident? Hmph… always these accidents?

The greatest white wizard of this century—when did you start using fools as tools?”

Snape stared fixedly at Dumbledore.

“Don’t think that of me, Severus. You know I don’t deserve such titles.”

Dumbledore said slowly.

“Let him go…”

After a long silence, Snape finally spoke a few words.

“Severus.”

For the first time, Dumbledore’s expression grew pained.

“I thought you would understand.”

The corridor was silent; their conversation hadn’t even stirred the owls perched by the stained-glass windows.

“He is foolish enough. I am not.

You assume everything is inevitable, Dumbledore—and the greatest fool of all is someone who thinks just as you do.”

Snape stared coldly at Dumbledore, recalling the cursed arm on the hospital bed—he knew whose hand had done it.

A new, unprecedented dread gripped him; a voice whispered in his ear: if that man were a knight, he would say:

“Ah, Severus, how else can I make you understand?

This is what must be faced—what must inevitably be faced…

For loving someone, yes, is like creating a faith, serving a god who may fall at any moment…”

The two fell silent, until Dumbledore shook his head:

“How many men and women have we seen die over these years?

Hogwarts has been lucky—but things never go as planned.”

Dumbledore seemed to recall something; his gaze grew deep.

“Not him!”

Snape’s fury reached its peak.

“An interesting point, Severus—when an avalanche falls, it doesn’t care whether you’re a rabbit or a snow fox.”

Dumbledore tapped his forearm lightly.

Another long silence.

Dumbledore watched Snape, and finally sighed:

“I believe we share one goal, Severus.

We must leave some hope for the future… I hope once more that you understand: there is no other way in this world to make the one in danger be him instead of me.

I am not the greatest wizard of this century. If I could, I would gladly share that title with those eager to claim it.

But Severus, you know whom I most wish to see inherit it.

If you believe this conversation gave you what you wanted, then let us part here… I must rest. Old men always long for sweet dreams.”

Snape stood in the corridor’s shadow; he had understood much from Dumbledore’s veiled hints—but still, he could not help asking:

“If so, why let him go with you?”

“Hmm…”

Dumbledore’s expression grew uneasy.

“I was forced, Severus.”

“You mean he demanded to come with you—to face our grim struggles and place himself in the greatest danger…”

Snape sneered, but his voice grew quieter as he spoke, until he realized—he had just learned the truth.

“Yes, Severus.”

Seeing his expression, Dumbledore added gently.

“Wizard Sean Green…”

The name sounded as if it had been forced through Snape’s clenched teeth.

Dumbledore cheerfully popped a lemon drop into his mouth, then watched Snape stride toward the hospital wing.

With Severus, he always found himself saying more.

Severus Snape had fought alongside Albus Dumbledore for many years; unknown to Snape, his heart had long since wavered—and now moved with unwavering resolve toward the direction Dumbledore most desired.

They had become a kind of person.

When this change had begun, even they could not say.

But Dumbledore had always believed: when the world changed and demanded it, Severus Snape would become his final, most cherished young wizard.

“I believe in Severus.”

For a long time to come, this would stand as Dumbledore’s unshakable testament.

The night was so clear—especially after hope had been added.

Dumbledore walked cheerfully toward the headmaster’s office, but froze when he saw a face that had returned from the hospital wing—his expression suddenly uneasy.

“Minerva, ah, you’re still awake?”

Dumbledore set down the lemon drop.

“Someone from Ravenclaw stayed out past curfew; their name soon appeared on the absence list. I hope you’re not telling me this is your doing, Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Her voice sounded dangerous.

Dumbledore could no longer feel cheerful.

One more chapter before midnight