A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Because he knew even Professor Snape had no certainty, theoretically, what Professor Bagshot said could entirely happen. At this moment, he thought of the Dursleys, thought of Uncle Vernon. If wizards were really exposed to the world in a serious way, would he allow wizards to openly appear in his life?

Harry didn't need any hesitation to know the answer. Thinking about Uncle Vernon's attitude towards the homeless on the street, towards himself... he would definitely flood the government hotline with calls.

How many people like him were there? If they gathered together, protests would follow, and then would things unfold as Professor Bagshot predicted, with some government officials compromising first, the situation heading into the unknown... Harry recalled the Muggle march he witnessed during his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, those cold stares seemed to pierce through time and land on him again.

Harry's expression grew heavy, his limbs heavy as lead, he followed behind the professor in a daze. No matter how hard he racked his brains, he couldn't think of a good solution. Then, he suddenly noticed Professor Bagshot stop, saying, "We're here."

Harry looked around blankly. They stood deep in the Forbidden Forest, surrounded by towering trees. But it was only March, and the leaves weren't fully grown yet; he could see the sky through the sparse foliage.

"Remember the magic I taught you, give it a try," Professor Grindelwald said calmly, as if their previous conversation hadn't happened.

Harry waved his wand haphazardly, the spell hitting a tree trunk, causing it to sway. Even he felt it wasn't up to par, "Oh, sorry, let me try again." He tried to calm himself, waving his wand a second time, this time the powerful spell snapped the thick trunk in two.

Harry looked at Professor Bagshot with some satisfaction. The professor's earlier words had worked; Harry still hadn't come up with a foolproof plan, but he felt that if things really went in the worst direction, he wouldn't stand idly by, nor would he hide.

Besides, Harry thought, by then he would most likely be an Auror, with loved ones and everything he valued behind him; he had no choice but to forge ahead.

"I did my best," Harry said.

"Do you think I'm here to play house with you?" Grindelwald rebuked, "Why don't I go find that Muggle-born girl, she performs much better than you in class."

"I'm puzzled by that too," Harry said stiffly.

"If you had no potential, I wouldn't waste my time. There are few at the entire school who surpass you, including the professors. Your biggest problem is that you've never thought about how far you could go! Magic isn't rigid, you're restricting your own power."

"I haven't—"

"Then bring out your real power, otherwise go back and pray that fate won't catch up with you, pray like a coward that the big shots will show you mercy—"

The forest suddenly exploded. The massive shock shattered hundreds of giant trees, as if a huge explosion had occurred. The space within a radius of two to three hundred feet was leveled, trees farther away were bent and twisted, as if they had experienced a violent storm.

Broken branches and logs fell everywhere, Harry stared wide-eyed, unable to believe he had done it.

"Look, Harry! Look!" Grindelwald said loudly, his gaze sweeping over the vast ruins before them, "This is your true power."

...

In the evening, Harry appeared in the Headmaster's office.

"Harry, you're here," Dumbledore said as gently as usual. Harry noticed the Pensieve on the desk, the silver substance inside swirling rapidly, he guessed the headmaster might have just used it.

Dumbledore held his wand against his own forehead, extracted a new memory, and put it into the Pensieve, then tried to grab Harry's hand.

"We need to accelerate the pace, there's a lot to do today."

Harry dodged. He lowered his head, not looking at Dumbledore, but staring at the Pensieve.

"But, sir, I don't understand the significance of doing this. I know handling soul fragments in the mind is tricky, but I can't understand—if even magic won't work, what's the point of just looking at these things that have already happened?"

A moment of silence.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said with a slightly troubled tone, "it seems I must reveal some information to make what we're doing now more valuable in your eyes... In short, I hope you have the ability to discern right from wrong, and the courage to make the right choices when it matters."

Harry sat there dumbfounded, feeling insulted. What image did he have in Dumbledore's mind exactly?

"Don't misunderstand, Harry," Dumbledore said, "You are one of the closest people I've seen to possessing saint-like qualities, even unique. Considering my long life and having seen too many students, this assessment is quite persuasive."

Harry felt a bit uncomfortable, his face burning. He didn't expect such straightforward and warm praise from Dumbledore, especially after his recent outburst. He tried to soften his expression.

"Of course, I'm not saying you don't have flaws and struggles. In my eyes, this is a good thing, it shows you're still a normal person, not becoming arrogant because of fame or surpassing your peers in strength. Because of this, my expectations of you are higher, I won't treat you like an ordinary student. For example—"

Dumbledore raised a finger.

"Do you ever feel afraid of your own abilities when studying magic with Professor Bagshot?"

Harry was a bit distracted. He thought of that morning when, under Professor Bagshot's guidance, he effortlessly destroyed a small piece of the Forbidden Forest. He did feel incredible and a bit scared, even doubting if he was being possessed by Voldemort.

"I—You know, sir?"

"Yes, I know," Dumbledore said calmly.

"That's an ability you already possess," he seemed to understand Harry's thoughts, "Professor Bagshot may have reassured you, although I'm not sure what reasons he used, but his ideas may not necessarily suit you."

"Not necessarily suit me?" Harry repeated softly.

"Only you can find the answer to that question, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously, "I can't help you with that, I can only borrow Alastor's catchphrase: Constant vigilance, Harry. Force without thought can easily evolve into violence."

A light bulb went off in Harry's mind.

"So you want me to look at those memories to help me harness my power?"

"We can discuss that question later. In fact, I would prefer you to pay attention to the choices of different people in the memories, especially their situations at the time. It would be even better if it could generate some beneficial thoughts," Dumbledore said, "The reason I used my memories—forgive my arrogance—is because I have witnessed too many ups and downs of men and women."

Seeing Harry lost in thought, Dumbledore cheerfully said, "So—let's embark on today's lesson!"

He stood up and bowed slightly, as if preparing for a grand banquet.

"I would be honored to share my experiences during my student days with you. You may find them somewhat trivial, as they involve more than one person, some of whom I still keep in touch with today. Perhaps you've heard one or two names!"

"Let the adventure begin!"

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