Chapter 4: Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans

Hogwarts.

After climbing the long staircase, Dumbledore led Morris to a stop before a gargoyle of hideous design.

"Fizzing Whizbees!"

No sooner had the words left his lips than the gargoyle moved without warning. It rotated slowly and hopped aside, and with a loud thud, the wall split in two to reveal a spiral staircase hidden behind it.

Morris instinctively looked up; the staircase seemed endless, ascending into the unseen.

The decor of the Headmaster’s office remained as distinct as he remembered—tall bookshelves crammed with volumes and scrolls, and the portraits of former headmasters lining the walls. Those in the paintings were whispering to one another, occasionally casting a furtive glance toward Morris.

"Looks familiar."

"It couldn't be him, could it?"

"Didn't he drop out? That filthy traitor—"

The final remark came from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. For the words of this Slytherin headmaster, notorious for his biting tongue, Morris chose to feign deafness.

The man was dead; what could one possibly do about it? He couldn't very well, at 11:53 PM on this Halloween night, sneak the portrait out of Dumbledore’s office, use Floo powder to return to London, tear it to shreds, and toss it into a Muggle public restroom, could he?

Beyond this, a massive wooden desk occupied the center of the room, piled high with curious instruments. A pale golden sphere of mist hovered above the desktop, its internal vortex swirling slowly. Near the fireplace, an elegant phoenix perched on a golden stand, tilting its head slightly to watch Morris. Its fiery, red-gold plumage shimmered in the hearth-light, looking—utterly magnificent.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Professor Morris," Dumbledore said with a smile.

Morris surveyed his surroundings before retracting his gaze to look directly at Dumbledore. "I know you have something to say to me, Professor Dumbledore. Why don't we get straight to the point?"

Facing such directness, Dumbledore showed not a hint of surprise, as if he had anticipated this reaction all along. He merely smiled, flicked his wand, and with a gentle gesture, a comfortable chair appeared out of thin air before Morris, landing with a soft thud.

"Please, sit, Professor Morris," Dumbledore said warmly, as if hosting an old friend he hadn't seen in years. "Would you like anything? Tea, pumpkin juice, or perhaps honey-lemon black tea?"

"Honey-lemon black tea, thank you."

Morris replied as he slowly sat down, leaning back slightly with his hands clasped over his knees, feeling a sudden wave of emotion. Dumbledore always possessed a unique quality that caused one to lower their guard, as if even the most complex and difficult matters became simple in his presence. His gentle demeanor made it difficult to harbor feelings of anger or unease. If one had to describe it, it was like being placed in the middle of a tranquil lake, where even the wind seemed exceptionally soft.

Furthermore, despite all these years, he still remembered that honey-lemon black tea was his favorite drink.

Dumbledore waved his hand again. A teapot drifted lightly into the air, slowly pouring steaming honey-lemon black tea into a cup. Simultaneously, a selection of colorful candies and delicate pastries appeared on the coffee table between them, arranged neatly on an exquisite porcelain plate.

"Some things are worth remembering. For instance, people's preferences; for instance, those essential qualities that have never changed."

Seeming to sense Morris's inner thoughts, Dumbledore chose this as his entry point. After finishing the sentence, he did not expect a response, for in his memory, Morris had always been a man of extreme views.

Yet, unexpectedly, in the next second, Morris picked up a candy from the porcelain plate and spoke:

"For instance, the fact that you do not like Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, yet you always keep the candies others give you on a plate for guests, holding onto some sort of beautiful expectation—at least these sweets won't go to waste."

If Morris remembered correctly, Dumbledore's aversion to the beans stemmed from accidentally eating a 'vomit-flavored' one in his youth. He had chosen this specific point to cleverly refute Dumbledore's words.

Hearing Morris speak, Dumbledore’s eyes brightened. He keenly sensed a change. A change in Morris.

He seemed different from a year ago. If one had to describe it, the Morris who stood in the square of Diagon Alley giving a loud speech a year ago was a sharp, unsheathed sword, ready to draw blood at any moment. But now, the Morris sitting before him was like a blade returned to its scabbard. The sharpness remained, but it was suppressed, hidden deeper, becoming calmer and far more elusive.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered. He shifted his gaze from the beans on the plate back to Morris, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "It seems that Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans have become a small bridge between us two. It has been a long time since I heard such a clever rebuttal, Morris."

"A rebuttal?" Morris raised an eyebrow slightly, his tone indifferent and composed. "I did not intend to refute you, Professor Dumbledore. I simply believe that certain 'beautiful expectations' are nothing more than self-deception. You may be able to create a meaning for these candies, but the meaning itself does not change their substance."

His gaze fell upon the plate of sweets, and after a brief pause, he continued: "Whether a bean is vomit-flavored or strawberry-flavored is not something that trust or expectation can change. It is what it is. It is not hope that decides fate, but reality."

Dumbledore watched Morris quietly, not answering immediately. His gaze, through his half-moon spectacles, seemed to be searching for something on Morris's face. But Morris remained cold, his expression as still as stagnant water, devoid of any ripples.

"Perhaps you are right, Morris," Dumbledore finally spoke, his tone devoid of emotional fluctuation. "Reality is indeed cold and unyielding; the taste of a candy cannot change because of trust. But sometimes, expectation itself may be a form of power—even if it cannot change the outcome, it is enough to allow us to persist through certain moments."

"The reason it is still kept on the porcelain plate is a kind of trust, a form of incurable optimism," Dumbledore added with a faint, meaningful smile. "Perhaps, one day, I will encounter a truly delicious Every Flavor Bean and not be teased by fate."

Hearing this, Morris merely shook his head: "You are truly stubborn, Professor Dumbledore."

A moment of silence followed, leaving only the sound of the flames dancing in the fireplace. But such silence did not last long—perhaps in front of Dumbledore, there were very few awkward moments he could not handle.

After a few breaths, once Morris had sipped his tea, Dumbledore finally cut to the chase.

"Wizarding Sociology," Dumbledore said, adjusting his half-moon glasses, his voice unhurried. "It is a brand-new elective course, available only to students in their third year and above. Professor Morris, to be honest, the inspiration for this course came from you."

"So, I would like to ask you," Dumbledore continued, "if you were to teach this course, what would you speak about?"

This was a question that usually appeared in a job interview, not a routine inquiry after the matter had already been decided. This indicated that Dumbledore had long known Morris's thoughts, and this question was perhaps merely a desire to hear them voiced aloud, to see exactly how he understood the subject.

As for the content of the class, Morris had already considered it during his time in Azkaban. Thus, he voiced the answer he had prepared long ago.

"I would have them explore the social structure of the wizarding world, examine those deeply rooted historical concepts, dissect the evolution of wizarding power dynamics and the developmental trajectory of magical culture... and of course, it would involve the subtle and complex link between us and Muggle society."

At this point, Morris paused, his gaze fixed deeply upon Dumbledore's face.

"I want them to understand that the world we inhabit is not merely a simple accumulation of wands and magic. Wizards and Muggles, the past and the future, tradition and innovation—these are all like an intricate, complex web that influences the life of every one of us."