Gifts for Professors

---

Under Mrs. Molly's instruction, Arthur reluctantly promised not to teach these things to Dyroth. 

Dyroth wanted to explain, but Mrs. Molly wouldn't hear of it, assuming Dyroth was making excuses for Arthur. In response, Dyroth could only offer a helpless smile.

After lunch at the Burrow, Dyroth used the floo powder and fireplace to head to Diagon Alley.

"Mr. Grindelwald!"

"You are Mr. Grindelwald!"

The moment he emerged from the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace, a crowd of excited patrons swarmed around him. It was reminiscent of Harry Potter's first time there, but the frenzy was even greater.

The crowd treated Dyroth like an idol, hugging him and shaking his hand.

"Mr. Grindelwald, we saw the Daily Prophet! Thank you for helping us ordinary wizards. Not many purebloods with a conscience left!"

"Yes, Mr. Grindelwald, we won't forget your kindness!"

"We support you, Mr. Grindelwald!"

"Thank you, thank you all!" Dyroth tried his best to mask his discomfort as the attention overwhelmed him. 

What should have been a brief walk to Diagon Alley took over half an hour, with many insisting on multiple greetings. Some faces appeared before him four times! If Dyroth hadn't gently warned them off, they might have come again.

Reaching the Leaky Cauldron's entrance, Dyroth recalled Hagrid's instructions from the original novel.

"Three bricks up, two bricks across," he murmured as he tapped the wall.

The bricks shifted, revealing the bustling Diagon Alley. 

"This is the first time I've come here this way," Dyroth mused. "Before, I always Apparated."

As he entered the alley, the crowds immediately surrounded him again. Dyroth had become a model pureblood in the eyes of ordinary British wizards—strong, polite, and respectful of others, regardless of their blood status. 

Many wizarding parents urged their children to aspire to be like Mr. Grindelwald. Before he even graduated from Hogwarts, Dyroth had already become the envy of countless young wizards.

Arriving at the Saint's shop, Dyroth prepared gifts for several Hogwarts professors. After bidding farewell to Aunt Vinda, he traveled alone to Hogsmeade.

Using a secret passage from the Marauder's Map, he quietly returned to the Slytherin common room. Since it was Christmas, most students had gone home, so his arrival went unnoticed.

After tidying his dorm, Dyroth shrank the gifts with a charm and tucked them into his pocket. He planned to deliver them to the professors under the guise of Christmas gifts, knowing they wouldn't accept out-of-season gestures of gratitude.

His first stop was Professor Flitwick's office. The Ravenclaw professor's humor and relaxed teaching style made him popular, and his prowess as a former dueling champion was well-known, even though he was knocked out by Snape in the Battle of the Astronomy Tower.

Flitwick's face lit up when he saw the bottle of wine in Dyroth's hand, his fondness for the drink matching Hagrid's, though his self-control was much better.

"Professor Flitwick, Merry Christmas!" Dyroth greeted warmly. "I hope I'm not too late with my gift."

"It's rare for a student to remember gifts with everything going on!" Flitwick chuckled and handed Dyroth a notebook from his desk. "This contains notes from my dueling days. They may be useful to you."

"Thank you, Professor!" Dyroth accepted it gratefully, earning another hearty laugh from Flitwick.

Next, Dyroth visited Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall. For Sprout, he offered a mixture of rare dragon manure, highly valued in the wizarding world. Even dragon farms rarely collected it due to the danger involved.

Dyroth had a harder time choosing a gift for Professor McGonagall, torn between Quidditch gear and something related to her Animagus form. After learning more about her past, he opted for rare flower seeds. McGonagall's expression was complicated, but Dyroth simply smiled politely and excused himself.

"The hardest one is next," Dyroth muttered as he reached Snape's office door.

Boom, boom, boom! He knocked.

"Come in!" came Snape's deep voice.

Upon seeing Dyroth, a flicker of surprise crossed Snape's face before turning into mockery.

"So, Mr. Grindelwald sneaks into Hogwarts even before the term starts. How fitting," Snape drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dyroth's smile faltered, unsure of how to respond.

"If you came to stand there like a statue, I would suggest joining the trees in the Forbidden Forest," Snape added impatiently.

"Professor, I brought you a Christmas gift. Merry Christmas." Dyroth placed the gift on Snape's desk.

"No." Snape dismissed it without even glancing at the package. "If you're truly at a loss for things to do, there's a bucket of slugs that needs sorting."

But as Snape's eyes drifted to the table, they locked on a photograph. Trembling, he reached for it.

The picture was of a young girl with dark red hair, standing in front of a shop with a bright smile. Unlike the usual moving wizarding photographs, this was an ordinary Muggle picture.

Snape's expression softened in a way Dyroth had never seen before. His fingers traced the image gently, as though afraid to damage it.

After a long pause, Snape's voice emerged, hoarse and trembling. "Where did you get this?"

"In a Muggle photo studio. She visited there as a child, and the shopkeeper used this as a sample for display."

"Are there more?"

"This is the last one."

Recognizing the shift in Snape's demeanor, Dyroth quietly moved toward the door, planning to leave.

Just as he reached it, Snape's voice, now cold again, stopped him.

"Don't repeat what happened in the Ministry of Magic's hall last night. No one wants to see a second Grindelwald rise."

Dyroth smiled as he knew that Snape said this for his sake and of course to repay the gift.

.

.

.