0651 Hatred

Hogwarts never forgets the misfortunes she has endured throughout the long centuries. And yet, despite the countless challenges and dark times, she also never clings to hatred. It is this remarkable capacity without resentment that has allowed Hogwarts to weather storm after storm, era upon era, to still stand proudly today becoming a beacon of magical learning.

Moody, or the person disguised as him, seemed deeply shaken to the core. In his one normal eye, a storm of emotions swirled and collided – flashes of blankness, intense pain, and burning hatred appeared in succession. These intense feelings caused his body to tremble uncontrollably as he sat beside the lake, without showing the fierce struggle raging within his heart and mind.

‘Don’t hold onto those unforgettable hatreds?’

For how many long centuries have the civilizations of Muggles and wizards existed, eyeing each other warily across a gulf of misunderstanding and mistrust? And for over a dozen of those centuries, they – the Druids – have been caught up in a turmoil of hatred, an unforgivable hatred. But now Watson, dares to say that for the sake of survival, they must forget and release that generations-old hatred?

Bryan knew well the tsunami of conflicting emotions his words were likely to unleash in the heart of the person sitting across from him. He was also aware that he was asking for something immensely difficult, perhaps even impossible. However, as an outsider to this ancient feud, Bryan felt he had a broader, more objective perspective on the matter than Cliodna, currently disguised as Mad-Eye Moody.

What exactly were these Druids fantasizing about accomplishing?

Destroying the Church?

What an absurd joke! Just as he had told Cliodna moments ago, the Church, much like Hogwarts herself, had long since transcended from just a building or institution of brick and cement to become a faith, an unshakable belief residing in the hearts and souls of countless Muggles across the globe.

Such an entity could never be truly destroyed by outside force. Moreover, this force had an omnipresent influence throughout the muggle world, and it possessed unfathomable, extraordinary power, often operating from the shadows.

Were the Druids placing their hopes on Voldemort, that after this so-called Dark Lord conquered magical Britain, he would then turn his forces against the Muggle world, gathering the might of the wizarding world to challenge the Church in a battle to the bitter end?

Bryan had no doubts that Voldemort’s maniacal ambitions extended to enslaving the muggles after establishing his domination over wizardkind. However, in his view, such ambitions were nothing more than the delusional ravings of a madman.

Voldemort had never bothered to properly look at Muggles, nor did he understand the true depths of their potential. If he dared attempt to overturn the established order of the Muggle world, he would quickly find himself besieged on all sides by the countless powerful and extraordinary forces and civilizations that spanned the globe, all united in tearing him to pieces.

A heavy, contemplative silence fell. Bryan added nothing more to his argument, instead quietly finished his roasted meat skewer, savoring the blend of smokey and savory flavors.

Meanwhile, his dining companion appeared lost in pensive thought, the skewer Bryan had handed him earlier dangling forgotten in his rough hand, with only a single bite taken.

“Phew—” Bryan exhaled softly, setting down the wooden skewer. Despite his best efforts, he had only managed to finish a small portion of the feast of barbecued delicacies the house-elves had brought.

Gazing out at the majestic ice castle glittering in the distance, he released a deep sigh of contentment, relishing the moment of peacefulness amidst the whirling snow.

“I’m going back to the orphanage tomorrow—” Bryan suddenly said out of blue.

“Oh, um—” Moody stammered, caught off guard by the abrupt change of topic. His mind inadvertently conjured up images of the orphanage and the children within it.

Cliodna felt a sharp pang of guilt as she recalled her interactions with those children. She had initially approached the orphanage with ulterior motives, seeking information for her own plans. Then, after getting what she needed, she had quietly slipped away like a thief in the night, giving little thought to the tender feelings of the children who had been attached to her.

Overwhelmed by her single-minded obsession on revenge, she had long failed to consider the impact of her actions on others.

Lost in these thoughts, it took Cliodna a moment to notice Bryan subtly studying her with an intensely perceptive gaze. Jolting back to the present, she reminded herself that Alastor Moody was not her real self Cliodna.

“Orphanage?” Moody forced an air of mild surprise, his gruff voice sounding unconvincing. “You grew up in a Muggle orphanage… Sorry, I hadn’t heard about this!”

The corner of Bryan’s mouth twitched as he withdrew his stare, but he made no comment on the blatant lie.

Cliodna had investigated some of Bryan Watson’s past background before their initial meeting at that orphanage. She knew Bryan Watson had been abandoned right after birth. His mother wanted to throw him into the river not far from the orphanage. But he was saved by an old woman at the orphanage who had now passed away.

As silence fell between them once more, as a wandering thought skimmed through Cliodna’s mind: if Bryan Watson’s parents had known what a remarkable wizard their abandoned son would grow up to become, would they have regretted their cruel act?

Had Bryan himself ever tried to track down his birth father?

At least her own parents had loved her very much. They sacrificed themselves to protect her.

Cliodna was startled by the direction of her ponderings. For countless years, the only thing that occupied her mind when reflecting on her parents’ deaths was the burning desire for retribution, a hatred that stained out any memory of the love and protection they had gifted her in their final moments.

That’s why she remembered hatred, only hatred, and seemed to have forgotten that her parents died to protect her.

Perhaps this realization explained her next words, blurted out without much thought: “Do you hate them?” She froze as soon as the question left her lips.

‘Do you hate them?’

Bryan looked momentarily taken aback by the abrupt question, a look of surprise flashed across his calm face. It occurred to him that this was only the second time in his life anyone had broached this sensitive subject.

In the orphanage, the family history of the children was the ultimate taboo topic, never to be raised by the staff or the children themselves. No one openly acknowledged the parents who had abandoned them to fate, leaving their questions and longing locked away.

The first time Bryan heard this question was when Harry asked it.

“The orphanage staff and the children I grew up with gave me a happy childhood—”

Bryan’s answer to Cliodna was different from what he told Harry. He said with a smile,

“Life at Hogwarts was also very fulfilling and happy, Severus took great care of me back then, and Dumbledore was very concerned about me too. Ah, of course, his concern had other motives,” Then, meeting Cliodna’s gaze directly, he said with quiet conviction, “I think having all this is enough.”

In that moment, Cliodna could see the covered meanings behind his words, the wisdom of a young man who had learned to define his life by the love and support he had gotten, rather than the absence and hurt dealt by those who should have cherished him most. She pressed her lips together, struggling to voice a response.

Bryan, perhaps sensing her inner turmoil, smoothly turned to a lighter topic. “Speaking of which—” he said with a sudden grin, “How are your old buddies doing, Professor Moody? Have they received care and treatment?”

Moody was stunned for several seconds before realizing what Watson was talking about.

“Yeah—” Moody nodded, “Thanks to your help, Watson—”

She understood now the true meaning behind Bryan’s question, and the point he had been trying to convey throughout their conversation.

Letting go of overwhelming hatred, learning to appreciate the good in one’s life— this perspective was far more in line with the Druid philosophy she followed. In contrast, she had allowed her vengeful obsession to twist her into someone numb to ethical considerations, blind to the destructive consequences of her actions.

Bang—

As Cliodna silently grappled with this uncomfortable realization, a sudden explosion sliced through the howling blizzard, drawing both of their attention towards the distant ice castle. A dazzling torrent of colorful fireworks bursted above the front square, painting the sky in vivid, celebratory colors. The young witches and wizards were apparently determined to end their festivities with a literal bang, setting off the total Filibuster’s Fireworks stockpile Bryan had in one spectacular show.

For a moment, both Bryan and Cliodna watched the joyful display in appreciative silence. However, the breathtaking scene was abruptly shattered for Cliodna by an alarming sensation within her body.

She shot to her feet in sudden panic as her heart pounded rapidly and her eyes widened in horror.

The effects of the Polyjuice Potion had reached their time limit.

Moody’s disfigured cheeks began to ripple, the skin was stretching and morphing as if an invisible hand were forcefully reshaping the flesh. The eye socket casing his magical blue eye bulged distortedly, the device within was creaking under the strain, trying to pop free as a natural eyeball grew to replace it.

The scars crisscrossing his face began to smooth out and fade, the skin tone began to lighten to a more youthful rosiness. At the same time, green hairs sprouted amidst the greyish white on his head, standing out in stark contrast.

Clunk!

With a dull clunk, the wooden peg leg dropped uselessly to the ground, replaced by a rapidly regenerating human leg.

‘Oh no!’

Cliodna barely suppressed a gasp of distress as the transformation progressed. After following Bryan out of the ice castle, she hadn’t taken another sip of Polyjuice Potion. Now, the transformation time was up. She was about to be exposed!

To be honest, this exposure had probably already happened long ago. Bryan had likely realized it long ago. He should have discovered it the night before the champion selection. However, for some reason she did not understand – perhaps wanting to figure out her reason for infiltrating Hogwarts – Bryan had never pointed it out.

The two of them had always maintained this strange tacit understanding, but now, this tacit understanding no longer existed. She was about to be exposed in her true form in front of Bryan Watson.

In her eyes, which had already turned green, there was boundless panic. This was definitely not only because her and Voldemort’s plan was about to completely fail. There were other reasons… perhaps more important reasons.

She didn’t want to face Bryan Watson, because of guilt… and some other factors she couldn’t explain clearly.

“Oh—” Bryan exhaled softly, startling Cliodna out of her spiraling thoughts. He kept his back to her as he spoke, his words were almost lost to the lashing wind. “It’s getting late. I think it’s time for those kids who played themselves silly to go to bed—”

With that said, Bryan directly jumped off the ice, and strode towards the ice castle without looking back.

“The grill and those empty bottles, Professor Moody,” Bryan called over his shoulder, “I will trouble you to have the house-elves clean it up—”

Bryan waved his hand with his back to the lakeside, then strode into the raging blizzard.

Snap—

The moment Bryan crossed some invisible boundary, the magical barrier shattered, allowing the chilly gale to come screaming into their small barbeque space. Cliodna stood motionless on the lakeshore, her long green hair were whipping her face, as she watched Bryan’s figure disappear into the snow.

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