Kapitel 3: 03 Admission letters
Michael turned his attention to the envelope with a sense of relief, only to see it written on the top in emerald green ink: for Mr. Michael Foster, second floor, Children's Home, London Borough of Sheridan.
A letter that he had fantasized about countless times in his mind since his previous life had truly appeared in front of his eyes. Even though the touch was so real, it was still unbelievable to Michael.
He clasped his hands together, his knuckles white from the exertion, and rubbed the envelope repeatedly, as if he wanted to confirm that this was not an unreal dream by the touch of his fingertips.
If he had had "her" in the first place, he wouldn't have had to go through so much pain from a fragile body that should have died young.
The pain that had lasted for seventeen years followed him day and night, and the whisper of the god of death echoed in his ears like the cold wind on a cold night, plunging him into fear and pain.
The dean in his previous life had said that he was precocious and intelligent, and had understood things since his childhood, but unfortunately ... that sigh seems to be still lingering in his ears, with endless pity and helplessness.
Michael himself is very clear in his heart, he is indeed more than other children to be early wisdom. In the age of ignorance, earlier touched the "death" this heavy as lead, cold like frost words.
Before he remembers, he was the cryingest child in the yard, and his cries seemed to be an instinctive struggle against an unknown fate. But since he remembered, he seemed to have grown up overnight and stopped crying.
Because he understands that not causing trouble to others is the only thing he can do in this world full of uncertainty.
At one time, he had tried to change with a glimmer of hope, thought about exercising. But it was as if that frail and weak body was cursed by fate.
Simply holding the handrail with his arm and then forcibly yanking himself up in one breath required all the strength of his entire body. In that instant, the pain that came like a raging tide unmercifully submerged every inch of his body.
It mercilessly stripped him of his strength, leaving behind only a child caught in a deep sleep, and perhaps a brief moment of unconsciousness as well.
In the moments of darkness, it was as if he heard the mockery of fate, but was powerless to resist.
He chose to fight against everything with the attitude of "If I can't be healthy, I'll make me smart!" attitude to life, to fight against everything.
Immersed in the sea of knowledge, immersed in the magical world of Harry Potter, waiting for death to come.
He had no complaints, simply because he had been given many gifts.
In the last part of his life, Michael had asked the Dean, with great earnestness, how on earth he had come to be here. Not with unresolved resentment, but simply with a desire for an answer, be it happy or sad.
A baby born prematurely, probably on drugs, and dumped in a hospital trash can. Most such babies die, fragile lives lost in the cold and dark. Michael, on the other hand, resiliently survived, as if it were a glimmer of mercy left by the gods of fate in their merciless judgment.
Michael took a deep breath of air, trying to calm his racing thoughts, and then slowly opened the envelope.
The first page was the notice that had appeared countless times in his dreams, he stared wide-eyed and repeatedly confirmed, and then with anticipation and nervousness, he cast his eyes on the second page of the letterhead, which clearly stated that he needed to prepare "uniforms", "textbooks", "other equipment", and "other equipment". "Other equipment".
After reading the contents of the envelope, Michael's first thought was "tuition".
He bit his lip and frowned with worry. He neither wanted Nancy's mother to pay more for herself, nor was he willing to cause trouble for others, so he instantly raised the doubts in his heart to Dumbledore.
"Mr. Headmaster, as you should know by now, I don't have enough money to purchase admission materials, is there anything you can suggest to me? I would be very grateful." Michael's eyes were full of earnestness and anticipation.
As if he had expected it, Dumbledore answered with a calm demeanor and a smile right after Michael's question.
"Perhaps that was the only good thing Tom ever did. After that incident, the Ministry of Magic added grants for small wizards who are Muggle-born and relatively poor. In the past they could have given just enough money to buy a second hand set of schooling paraphernalia."
Dumbledore stroked his beard lightly as he spoke, emotion showing in his eyes.
"They tell everyone that we don't want the poor children to feel that they are on the dole, because the highest principle of charity is to maintain the dignity of the recipient."
After saying this, Dumbledore's originally stretched brows knitted slightly, and his gaze became deeper and deeper, as if he had all of a sudden fallen into a long ago memory.
Then, as if he thought of something, his words lowered, "Perhaps they felt that Tom was using second-hand admission paraphernalia because it made him seem inferior and his dignity damaged from the moment he entered the academy, after all, jealousy leads to resentment."
At this moment, a look of gravity appeared on his face, with a hint of remorse mixed in between.
Dumbledore's mood became much lower, he gently shook his head, his eyes were deeply helpless, as if that helplessness could drown a person.
"Well, it's getting late, and you'll be picked up in the morning to acquire your supplies. I'm afraid Foggy's owl at the window of the principal's office is getting tired of waiting, so good night to you both."
With that said, he gave Michael and Nancy a slight nod before turning around and slowly leaving with a slightly heavy stride.
After Dumbledore left.
Nancy held Michael's hands, which were covered with the marks of years, but warm as before.
Her eyes were full of tenderness and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes hid concern. Her slightly trembling hands and the complex glint in her eyes revealed her inner excitement at Michael's impending journey into the magic of the unknown, as well as her concern for the dangers he might face.
"My child, I just want to tell you once again for the record. Even if there were no wizards in this world, you are by no means a freak in my eyes."
Michael was about to speak, "But, Mom," when his words were interrupted by Nancy. She frowned slightly and her tone was firm, "No buts. Over the years, you've always tried your best to control your emotions and behavior, never wanting to let those strange things affect others."
Nancy's mother paused, then continued, "And always helped care for the other children with enthusiasm. In the face of evil words, you suffered in silence, without fighting or arguing."
She gently stroked Michael's hand, her gaze full of pain, "I know you feel that those things were because of you and want to make amends, yet it was not your fault."
"Magic chose you first, not you choosing to become a witch first. It brought many troubles, but it was not your fault, and you are an incredibly gentle and kind child."
After saying that, Nancy's mother's clenched hand slowly loosened, and with some reluctance and attachment, she turned towards her office.
After all, there was always a mountain of unending business waiting for her at the children's home.
She loved every child deeply, and in the past three years, she had personally reviewed every application, word by word, for fear of missing key information. She didn't want to let any of the children be hurt in the slightest because of her own laxity.
Michael stared blankly at the back of Nancy's mother's departure, as if the fading figure had taken away the last shred of defense in his heart.
Just as Michael was deep in thought, Nancy's mother turned back from the dean's office.
Michael first heard a slightly hurried footsteps, he subconsciously looked up.
Only to see Nancy's mom reappear in front of his eyes, her footsteps slightly hurried, the hem of her skirt fluttering gently in the wind. Her face carried a hint of urgency, but her eyes were still gentle.
Nancy's mother came to Michael and slowly reached out her hand, which held a pair of black gloves embellished with tiny pearls.
The gloves shone warmly in the light, and the tiny pearls seemed to tell a story of the past.
Michael's eyes focused on the gloves, he saw every trace of the texture of the pearls, as if he saw the traces of the years, his eyes were full of surprise and touched.
She gently said to Michael, "Since you have decided to go to Hogwarts to attend school and solve the problem on your body once and for all, then these gloves, I should give them back to you, after all, it belongs to you."
Michael's thoughts went blank and his mind was empty, with only one heart beating alone and strongly.
Two streams of memories tumbled out of his mind.
One strand was of a gentle man hugging himself in July, 1987, giving himself these precious gloves as a gift, hoping he wouldn't give up, that he cared about every forgotten angel.
The other stream of memories began after Nancy's mom decided to let him stay at the children's home. As a result of his arrival, many strange and bizarre situations arose in the orphanage.
However, Nancy's mother never complained about any of them, and always dealt with them quietly and alone. When she was finished, she would always lovingly reassure him that it was no problem and that he should not worry about it.
Watching Nancy's mother to deal with the strange things he brought to the busy but no complaints.
Michael's two lifetimes of perseverance, like an impenetrable ice sculpture was chiseled out of deep cracks, "love" as a sharp blade with warmth embedded, so that his frozen heart melted into a pool of spring water.
He had the gloves sent by the man solemnly forwarded to Nancy's mother, swore silently in the bottom of his heart, as long as there is a slightest chance, will do everything in his power to solve all the problems, to protect Nancy's mother's wishes, and then the cold current can not take away all of this, to witness the life.
Michael did not say more, silently took the diamond gloves handed by Nancy's mom, with hope, ready to meet the future.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein