The red-haired wizard tapped boredly on his portrait frame, occasionally craning his neck to see what the other portraits were doing.
Students called this tower the Astronomy Tower because they observed the stars and took astronomy classes at its top every week. Even most of the portraits in the hallway were astronomy-related. Most of them were quiet and silent; no one wanted to talk to him.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps, then saw a familiar student walk by and quickly chased after him.
"Hey, did you get over your cold? Professor Murray gave you medicine, right? That old guy's pick-me-up potion is really good—"
He expected the student to walk away without looking back, as before. To his surprise, the other person suddenly stopped and looked at him thoughtfully.
"Your name is Griffiths?" Wade asked.
"That's right!" The red-haired wizard nodded happily. "Professor Murray told you, didn't he? He's the only one who occasionally talks to me now."
"Aren't there many other portraits here?" Wade gestured around.
"Ugh, don't even get me started," Griffiths said glumly. "Do you see that old man in the portrait diagonally across from me?"
Wade looked over. He was talking about an old wizard with stars on his robes and hat, standing in front of a large telescope, intently gazing at the starry sky.
Griffiths said, "He's been holding that telescope for centuries, observing the unchanging starry sky in the portrait, and he just finds me annoying. And then there's Shalom, the one with glasses, always writing and calculating on parchment, never stopping. Her calculations were already proven by Muggle scientists over a hundred years ago, but she's still calculating endlessly."
Wade saw a thin witch hunched over her work, calculating. Even after hearing Griffiths's words, she didn't stop.
"And those stargazing kids over there, see them? They're practically Cornish Pixies," Griffiths complained. "When they're not stargazing or sleeping, they're definitely causing trouble—knocking over the old star-man's telescope, tearing Shalom's parchment, or pulling my hair and spilling ink on my robes! I've really had enough!"
Griffiths sighed, lonely and helpless. Even though Wade was in a bad mood, he couldn't help but be amused, and the gloom, heaviness, and doubts in his heart seemed to dissipate.
He asked, "How long have you been hanging here? Haven't you gotten used to it yet?"
"Oh, you don't know. I actually used to hang in the first-floor entrance hall, completely surrounded by portraits. I could watch the young wizards come and go every day, and occasionally teach them pranks. It was so much fun," Griffiths said regretfully. "But then, to hang Fresco's portrait, they moved me to the Astronomy Tower. I thought, 'It'll be nice to meet some new friends.' I never expected it to be so boring here!"
"Can't portraits visit other portraits?" Wade asked.
"We can, but it's very tiring. Most of the time, I can only stay in my own portrait." Griffiths said expectantly, "Can you move my portrait back to the entrance hall? Or just somewhere lively! I'll repay you!"
Wade didn't agree immediately but said, "I need to ask the professors first. As long as they don't object, I'll help you move."
Griffiths thought for a moment and asked, "—What if they object then?"
"Then I'll secretly help you move it somewhere else, just not the entrance hall—that's too noticeable," Wade said.
"That's wonderful!" Griffiths was so excited he practically bounced. He urged, "Then go ask quickly! Go ask soon."
"…Hmm, alright."
Wade smiled and turned to leave.
He had originally wanted to ask Griffiths if Professor Murray had truly come from his own office that morning, and if Quirrell frequently visited this place. But after a few words, he dismissed the idea.
The red-haired wizard was too chatty to keep a secret; besides, he had surely known Professor Murray longer, so why should Wade expect him to keep a secret for him?
It was better to move the portrait first… and then make plans.
...
Terence Murray finally finished teaching the seventh-year students and stormed out, clutching his lesson plan, leaving behind a few quail-like students looking at each other, their expressions wilted as if they had just survived a storm.
What did he mean by "first-year students are better than you"? Do first-years know what Alchemy is? Do they know how to write "0" in Runes?
They were indignant, but under Professor Murray's reprimand, none dared to refute him. They could only meekly say, "Yes, yes, you're absolutely right."
Professor Murray became even angrier.
After meeting Wade, the more he looked at his carefully selected students, the more displeased he became; checking their last Alchemy projects only deepened his dissatisfaction. In the end, he assigned five times the usual homework, yet still felt these students had it too easy.
Professor Murray huffed back to his office. From a distance, he heard an enthusiastic voice: "Did class go well today, Professor Murray? The young wizards must have learned a lot!"
It's hard to be truly indifferent when faced with such enthusiasm. Professor Murray unconsciously smiled. "Oh, Griffiths!"
"Yes, who else would it be but me?" Griffiths said.
Professor Murray couldn't help but stop in the hallway and complain to him about his students: "—It's one thing for their minds to be inferior, but they're not even as diligent. Why are they studying Alchemy? They might as well go be decorations at the Ministry of Magic!"
"So you've taken a liking to that young wizard?" Griffiths leaned against the portrait frame, asking with a smile.
Professor Murray was silent for a moment, then suddenly sighed.
"Griffiths, gifted wizards often show their uniqueness from a young age, displaying brilliance and attracting everyone's attention as soon as they start school. But talented people always yearn to learn difficult and dangerous magic, to master greater power, and pursue greater gains, yet few are willing to settle down and study Alchemy."
"But in my opinion, what good is it to master even the world's most dangerous forbidden magic? Look at those who were once famous! Some fell like shooting stars, some became notorious Dark Lords, and some, despite their great reputation, ended up with nothing! The stronger they are, the more death and slaughter they bring to the world!"
"What can truly bring change to the Wizarding World, what can bring happiness to people, should be Alchemy! Only by continuously learning from Muggles, innovating technology, and improving alchemical products can the Wizarding World develop better, and only then… only then can we prevent wizards from being annihilated by Muggles."
"But these past few years… although I've achieved some success, introducing some Muggle inventions into the magical world, I feel like a baby learning to walk. The harder I try to catch up to the giants ahead, the more despairing the gap between us becomes… and this gap is widening every moment."
"And my students? All they think about is inventing popular magical items and making a lot of money. That's all they think about—"
"But that child is different, isn't he?" Griffiths suddenly asked.
"He is—" Professor Murray smiled. "Even though he's only eleven years old."
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