Everyone else might be blinded by lust or love, but Eda was different—she wasn't an ordinary person. She was blinded by money.
While the twins often had the qualities of bad influences, they had one very fair assessment of Eda: she had every single Knut tied to her ribs, and every time she spent money, it felt like she was giving up her life.
Eda, with money signs in her eyes, was a rare girl who treated immortality as nothing but treasured money as her life. If any foolish thief ever dared to steal her coin pouch, Eda would chase him to the ends of the earth.
Everyone has desires, and these desires are often what drive and support humans to keep moving forward. Dumbledore didn't think Eda's love of money was vulgar at all.
She didn't steal or rob—so what if she liked things that sparkled?
"Ahaha~ I'm sorry. The Philosopher's Stone doesn't belong to me; I'm just its temporary keeper," Dumbledore politely declined Eda's proposal. He couldn't make that decision on behalf of Nicolas Flamel.
Eda had only been joking anyway. She never thought Dumbledore would actually agree.
This was the Philosopher's Stone they were talking about—the only one in the entire magical world.
If Dumbledore really had said yes, Eda would have been too scared to accept. After all, who knew what kind of abyssal trap lay behind such a too-good-to-be-true offer?
"But," Dumbledore continued, "if you manage to get the Stone before Quirrell does, or before I send it away, I might just turn a blind eye."
"Eh..?"
"But you only have two days."
The Elixir of Life made from the Philosopher's Stone had to be taken continuously—in that period, your life would be extended indefinitely, but once you stopped taking it, death would follow. Eda only wanted to borrow the Stone for two days.
Though that was more symbolic than anything else, it still showed she had no real interest in immortality—she just wanted to turn lead into gold.
Dumbledore had great confidence in the protections he'd put in place. As long as someone harbored a desire for the Philosopher's Stone and wished to claim it for themselves, that person would never be able to pass through the defenses he had set.
Quirrell couldn't do it, and neither could Eda—because both of them desired the Stone.
With just a few words, costing nothing, Dumbledore could gain a sliver of goodwill from Eda and, at the same time, add a powerful extra bodyguard to help safeguard Harry and the Philosopher's Stone.
For Dumbledore, this was a deal with guaranteed returns and no risk.
If all it took was talking, why not?
And even if Eda did somehow manage to obtain the Philosopher's Stone, wouldn't that just mean she no longer wanted it? Then there'd be nothing to worry about!
Letting her play with it for two days wouldn't mean anything—it'd just be like placating a child.
"Hmm..."
Eda turned her head and looked at Dumbledore, her eyes full of suspicion. His blue eyes were as calm as a still lake, betraying nothing. But Eda just knew—this old bee was definitely setting her up!
She said, "Professor, something's off about you. I feel like you've already dug a pit and are just waiting for me to jump in—worse still, you want me to jump in voluntarily, and afterwards, there won't even be a place for me to cry or throw a fit."
"You jumped in yourself," Dumbledore would probably say if he were being blunt. "Now it's too late to regret it. Once you're on this train, the doors are welded shut—no one's getting off until we reach the end."
Of course, Professor Dumbledore would never speak that way.
But Eda figured the meaning was about the same: he was looking for a "gentle and understanding" big sister figure to be Harry's bodyguard—convenient and effective.
Harry Potter might not have magical long hair, but he did have a stubborn tuft that always stuck up, no shampoo able to tame it.
And although Harry hadn't yet revealed his ability to speak Parseltongue, talking to magical creatures wasn't all that rare in the wizarding world. Rumor had it that Dumbledore could even speak Mermish.
Harry Potter might never have been poisoned, but he had been harmed by Voldemort's Killing Curse and marked as his equal—now that was more dramatic than any poisoned apple.
Harry Potter had never been kidnapped, but the Dursleys certainly didn't treat him well—one could even say they abused him, bordering on slavery.
Many people had helped Harry resolve his troubles—Hermione Granger, Dumbledore, and perhaps now Esmeralda Twist might join the list. So...
It was confirmed—Harry Potter was a runaway Disney princess, the magical princess of Hogwarts!
No wonder—well played, Harry Potter!
Eda had no idea that the world she lived in was one where a "princess" was responsible for keeping the peace while also taking revenge for herself.
She had no interest in princesses or that kind of thing. What she was really thinking about was whether she had even the slightest chance of passing this trial and obtaining the Philosopher's Stone.
Eda turned back again to face the Mirror of Erised.
The images reappeared: the young couple holding their baby, the healthy, rosy-cheeked young man. But this time, something new appeared as well—Eda saw herself holding the red Philosopher's Stone, turning heaps of scrap metal into piles of gleaming gold!
To pass the trial, one had to eliminate their desire.
Eda asked herself honestly—she couldn't do it.
She might look like she was fourteen, but her soul was not fourteen. Having lived a second life, the years had long since stripped her heart of its innocence. This was not just the Mirror of Erised testing her—it was a cleansing of her soul.
"In life, one is bound to face setbacks. Often, setbacks and opportunities come hand in hand. What we must do is seize the opportunity and overcome the obstacles in our path," said Dumbledore.
The bowl of chicken soup for the soul he served was a bit hastily brewed, but he could only tug Eda's collar and force it down her throat.
"May I ask why you want so much money?" Dumbledore continued. "From what I know, the money you currently have would be enough to last you until graduation even if you did nothing in the coming years."
"Afraid... being poor."
Just three simple words, yet they concealed immense fear. All Dumbledore could see was Eda's smiling face, but he couldn't see the hands she hid behind her back. Her fingers were tightly intertwined, knuckles pale from how hard she was gripping them.
Eda could easily spend the holidays at the orphanage or with the Weasleys, living off Hogwarts' modest welfare allowance. But she didn't. Instead, she chose to work at Flourish and Blotts, at the Leaky Cauldron, just so she could have some money on hand—just in case.
Though it was only a three-word answer, to Dumbledore, it said enough. In his view, having been abandoned at just two months old, and twice more in her childhood, left Eda with a profound sense of insecurity about everything she had.
If, one day, the Weasleys stopped liking or accepting her, and even Hogwarts no longer had a place for her, then even if she lost everything she had now, as long as she still had money, she could find a place to shelter from the wind and rain.
She wouldn't end up on the streets, starving and homeless.
That's why she reacted so strongly when Professor McGonagall gave Harry Potter a broomstick—just three words again: sense of crisis.
"By the way, did you have fun with the two Mr. Weasleys at the Shrieking Shack?" Dumbledore asked.
He had to steer the conversation elsewhere—if they continued on the previous topic, he was afraid Eda would get upset and then go looking to pick a fight with Quirrell.
"Uh…" Eda glanced at Dumbledore's waist. With a topic change that abrupt, wasn't he worried he'd strain something?
"What's wrong with my waist?" Dumbledore asked. He didn't understand the meaning behind Eda's glance. It's not like he had anything valuable hanging from his belt, and Eda wasn't a Niffler.
"Nothing," Eda withdrew her gaze. It seemed that although Dumbledore was old, his waist was clearly fine—he was still standing perfectly straight.
"If Headmaster has the time, feel free to visit the little house. Winnie has helped me a lot, and the place is quite cozy now." Eda, taking on the role of host, extended the invitation—which was, frankly, a bit shameless.
Though she didn't know how Dumbledore had found out she'd claimed the Shrieking Shack for herself, Eda wasn't the least bit surprised. There weren't many things at Hogwarts that could be kept from Dumbledore in the first place.
Now that she had caught the headmaster's attention, anything she did in the Shrieking Shack would obviously be impossible to hide for long. Being found out was just a matter of time.
"If you agree to do one thing for me, then whether it's the Shrieking Shack or the Twilight Cottage you call it now, from this day on, you'll be its true owner!" A cunning gleam flashed in Dumbledore's eyes—so obvious that anyone who wasn't blind could see it.
Dumbledore's trap had already been dug, laid bare right in front of Eda. Now it was just a matter of what posture she chose to jump in with.
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