Outside the door, under the gentle morning sun, stood an old man.
The old man was tall and thin, with long silver hair and a silver beard that could be tucked into his belt, wearing a purple robe. His nose was long but crooked, appearing to have been broken at least twice. A pair of spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose, and behind the half-moon lenses, his bright blue eyes were still as sparkling as he remembered.
At this moment, those bright blue eyes were fixed on the young man who had opened the door.
He stood tall and straight, with a perfectly appropriate smile on his face, and the act of pulling open the door was natural and relaxed.
“It has indeed been a long time, Mr. Lynch,” Dumbledore replied.
His voice was deep, soothing, and had a humming quality that was pleasant to hear.
“Last night, Hagrid told me you wanted to see me, so the first thing I did this morning was come here to meet you.” Then he changed the subject, “I haven’t been to the Forbidden Forest in a long time, and I must say, walking through the Forbidden Forest this morning reminded me of many things from the past. Perhaps I should get out more often.”
“I usually don’t recommend people take walks in the Forbidden Forest; it’s too dangerous, but I suppose the greatest Wizard in the world can walk wherever he pleases,” Mr. Lynch replied. “Now, please come in, Headmaster Dumbledore.”
Dumbledore’s profound gaze lingered once more on Mr. Lynch’s smiling face.
“Then I shall intrude.”
Dumbledore walked past Mr. Lynch and entered the Stone house.
Mr. Lynch glanced at the Forbidden Forest outside the door, and a grey shadow quietly shrank behind the bushes.
Mr. Lynch’s gaze flickered slightly, then he calmly closed the wooden door.
Mr. Lynch turned around. Dumbledore was standing in the center of the room, slowly turning his head, looking around at the furnishings and decorations of the Stone house.
“I’ve never been inside this room before. Looking at it now, you’ve renovated it quite well. I must say, it’s a very clever Undetectable Extension Charm.”
His gaze then shifted to the desk by the window. “A desk made from a single piece of yew wood, that’s truly rare. Few people use this type of wood for furniture. I can’t remember where I last saw such a large piece of yew furniture.”
“This was a gift from a friend, right after Principal Dumbledore lifted my restrictions on communicating with the outside world.”
Mr. Lynch replied, “He sent it to the school first, and Hagrid helped move it over with my other personal belongings.”
“Oh, I remember now. Hagrid told me someone sent you a desk, but he only told me it was an ordinary wooden table, without any magic traces, and didn’t mention that the desk was made entirely of yew wood.”
“Yew wood is an extremely precious timber; that must be a very good friend,” Dumbledore teased. “I wish I had a friend like that, but he would only need to send me a large bag of sweets and I would be very happy.”
Dumbledore’s meaningful gaze lingered for a moment on the dark, uniquely textured tabletop, then he glanced at Mr. Lynch. Just as he was about to speak again, the corner of his eye caught sight of something else.
He turned his head to look intently. On the wall directly above the fireplace, in the shadow cast by the firelight, hung a bird-beak mask, half-broken.
The left half of the mask had a large hole, almost completely shattered and gone, leaving only the grotesque metal beak stubbornly connected to the leather of the remaining right half of the mask. A charred, twisted mark was deeply imprinted above the metal beak, and on the right circular thick-lensed glass, spiderweb-like cracks spread from the edge.
“You still keep this mask…”
Dumbledore’s voice was still deep, but its earlier lightness had vanished.
Mr. Lynch’s smile didn't waver in the slightest as he calmly replied, “It constantly reminds me of the path I’ve walked.”
“Is that so…”
Dumbledore murmured softly.
Just as Mr. Lynch thought he was going to continue the topic of the mask, he turned his head to look at the wall-to-wall bookshelves in the room, and his voice became light again.
“Last Christmas, Madam Pince protested to me that you were systematically emptying the Library…” Dumbledore surveyed the bookshelves that lined the walls of the Stone house. “I originally thought her possessiveness over books made her exaggerate.”
Having been caught off guard, Mr. Lynch maintained his perfectly appropriate smile: “Books can take you anywhere—especially when a person suddenly has a lot of free time, the wisest choice is to devote it to books.”
He added, “I like learning new things and applying them to the study of magic arts.”
“When I’m engrossed in reading and studying magic, I forget where I am.”
As Mr. Lynch spoke, he raised his left hand. He spread his left hand, palm facing the single sofa in front of the fireplace, then successively curled his fingers starting from his pinky, simultaneously rotating his wrist until his left hand formed a fist, palm facing himself.
Then he tapped lightly on the side of his left hand with his right hand, fingers together.
With a soft “tap,” another identical single sofa sprang out from the original sofa, landing steadily to the left of the small square table, mirroring the original sofa.
Mr. Lynch extended his right hand and invited, “Please sit, Headmaster Dumbledore.”
Witnessing the entire process of the sofa appearing, Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened slightly.
Following Mr. Lynch’s words, he walked to the sofa, his fingertips gently brushing the smooth leather surface of the sofa.
He praised, “A very ingenious Duplicating Charm. The structure of the object is very stable. Few Wizards can cast such an advanced Duplicating Charm.”
“I’m glad you didn’t just stop at reading those books.”
As Dumbledore sat down on the sofa, he asked, “Do you mind if I make a few small modifications?”
As Dumbledore sat on the sofa, the color of the sofa’s leather changed to a Gryffindor gold and red patterned texture. The backrest of the sofa rose and curved forward, and the cushion became softer, making Dumbledore more comfortable.
“My apologies, with age, one needs to sit more comfortably.”
Mr. Lynch’s smile faded, and he also sat on the other sofa.
He settled himself before replying with a smile, “I understand. Only one knows what suits them best.”
“Please have some tea,” Mr. Lynch gestured with his hand, and two exquisite ceramic cups and a ceramic teapot flew out from the cabinet beneath the simple stove. “Please forgive me, I only have tea here. My usual food and drink are delivered by the House-elves. I have nothing else here, only some tea from the East. I personally like it very much, and I hope Principal Dumbledore will like it too.”
The cups automatically landed on the small square table, placed in front of each person, and steam suddenly emerged from the teapot’s spout. Emerald green tea poured from the teapot, emitting a lingering fragrance.
Dumbledore took a deep breath of the fragrance: “This aroma is very pleasant.”
He picked up the teacup, gently blew away the steam from the surface, then took a small sip.
“A very wonderful tea. It’s a little bitter, but it would be much better if some milk and honey were added,” Dumbledore said, setting down his teacup.
Mr. Lynch also picked up his teacup and took a small sip: “Don’t rush, Headmaster Dumbledore, this is green tea from the East. Its characteristic is that it’s bitter first, then sweet. Give it a little time, and it will give you a different experience.”
Dumbledore stopped speaking, quietly feeling the bitterness in his mouth transform into a subtle, lasting sweetness, like tasting spring grass after a rain.
Mr. Lynch also sat quietly on the sofa. The air fell silent, with only the fresh scent of green tea diffusing with the rising steam.
After a long while, Dumbledore let out a sigh: “It is indeed a novel experience.”
“Now.” After a long silence, Dumbledore decided to get straight to the point, “Tell me, you’ve been here for almost ten years, why do you only want to see me now?”