章節 36: 36
Chapter 36: Griffiths
The red-haired wizard idly tapped the frame, occasionally peeking at other portraits to see their activities.
This tower, known as the Astronomy Tower to students, hosted weekly astronomy classes and stargazing sessions. Most portraits here had ties to astronomy, maintaining a quiet demeanor and showing little interest in conversation.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed, and a familiar student hurried past, prompting Griffiths to give chase.
"Hey, feeling better from your cold? Murray gave you some medicine, right? His potions work wonders—"
Expecting the student to walk away as usual, Griffiths was surprised when the student stopped and looked at him thoughtfully.
"Your name's Griffiths?" Wade asked.
"That's me!" The red-haired wizard nodded cheerfully. "Did Murray tell you about me? He's about the only one who chats with me now."
"Aren't there plenty of portraits around?" Wade gestured.
"Ah, don't get me started," Griffiths sighed. "See that old guy in the portrait diagonally opposite?"
Wade looked over and spotted an elderly wizard with stars on his robe and hat, engrossed in observing the unchanged starry sky through a telescope.
Griffiths continued, "He's been staring at those stars for centuries without change and finds me nothing but a nuisance. And Shalom, over there with glasses, endlessly scribbles calculations on parchment. Muggle scientists confirmed her results a hundred years ago, yet she persists."
Wade observed a thin witch at her desk, unfazed by Griffiths' complaints, continuing her calculations.
"And those kids stargazing—they're just a bunch of Cornish pixies," Griffiths grumbled. "When they're not stargazing or napping, they cause havoc—tipping over old man Star's telescope, ruining Shalom's parchment, pulling my hair, spilling ink on my robes! I've had enough!"
Griffiths sighed, his loneliness palpable. Despite Wade's own troubles, Griffiths' rant amused him, dispelling some of his own gloom and doubt.
"How long have you been hanging here? Are you still not used to it?" Wade inquired.
"You know, I used to hang in the entrance hall on the first floor, surrounded by other portraits. I watched little wizards come and go, even taught them a trick or two. Those were the days," Griffiths lamented. "Then they moved me up here to make room for Fosco's portrait. Thought I'd make new friends. Turns out, it's just as dull here!"
"Can't you visit other portraits?" Wade asked.
"It's possible, but cumbersome. Most times, I'm stuck in my own frame," Griffiths explained eagerly. "Think you could move my portrait back to the entrance hall? Or somewhere lively? I'd owe you one!"
Wade didn't promise immediately. "I'll ask the professor first. If there's no objection, I'll help you relocate."
Griffiths nodded enthusiastically. "And if there's a problem?"
"I'll find you another spot discreetly. But not the entrance hall—it's too conspicuous," Wade assured.
"Deal!" Griffiths almost jumped with joy. "Go ask! Go ask now!"
"Alright."
Wade smiled and departed.
Initially, he planned to inquire about Professor Murray's morning whereabouts or how often Quirrell visited. After chatting with Griffiths, however, he reconsidered.
The red-haired wizard seemed talkative, possibly unable to keep a secret. Besides, Murray and Griffiths were likely acquainted far longer—why burden Griffiths with secrecy?
Better to relocate the portrait first, then proceed with other plans.
...
Terrence Murray concluded his lesson for seventh-years, storming out with his lesson plans. A few students, resembling quails after a storm, exchanged glances.
"What did he mean by 'first-years are ahead of you'? Do first-years even understand alchemy? Can they even write a '0' in runes?" They grumbled, subdued by Murray's scolding.
Murray eyed his chosen students, increasingly dissatisfied. Reviewing their last alchemy assignments only fueled his frustration, prompting him to quadruple their usual homework quota, deeming their workload too light.
Returning to his office in a huff, Murray was greeted by an enthusiastic voice, "Had a good class today, Professor Murray? The young wizards must've learned a lot!"
Faced with such warmth, Murray couldn't help but smile. "Ah, Griffiths!"
"Who else?" Griffiths grinned from his frame.
Leaning against the corridor wall, Murray vented about his students. "They lack intellect and diligence. Why study alchemy? They'd be better off as Ministry decorations!"
"Interested in that young wizard?" Griffiths interjected playfully.
Murray fell silent, then sighed deeply.
"Griffiths, gifted wizards stand out from a young age. They crave challenging and dangerous magic, seeking greater power and ambitions. Yet few dedicate themselves to alchemy."
"In my view, even mastery of the darkest, forbidden magic achieves little. Look at those once famed—some fell swiftly, others became Dark Lords, some amounted to nothing despite reputation. True change in the wizarding world, true happiness for people, lies in alchemy. By embracing Muggle innovations, advancing technology, refining alchemical creations, we secure our place and prevent wizards from succumbing to Muggles."
"But in my efforts so far—introducing Muggle inventions, making strides—it feels like child's play. The gap with pioneering wizards grows wider, daunting."
"And my students? Content to invent popular spells for profit," Murray lamented.
"But that child... he's different," Griffiths remarked.
"Yes," Murray smiled warmly. "Even at eleven."
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