area51novel Chapter 245, Section 244: Using Potter to Fight the Nest
Chapter 245, Section 244: Using Potter to Fight the Nest
Chapter 245, Section 244: Using Potter to Fight the Nest
The scene just now was absolutely explosive.
Dumbledore, whose muscles bulged and whose clothes ripped off, looked like the protagonist of an old-school shonen anime. However, before Ian could even take out his camera in amazement, Dumbledore showed signs of abnormality.
It was thanks to Dumbledore's ripped clothes that the young wizard noticed the changes in Dumbledore's body; strange symbols had appeared on Dumbledore's skin.
There are two different symbols, silver and black. According to Ian's observation and Dumbledore's explanation, the silver symbol, which Ian couldn't understand, was clearly the power that suppressed the black marks.
The black marks immediately suggested something ominous.
The shape and arrangement of the mark vaguely resembled the overlapping patterns of the Deathly Hallows—of course, despite his excellent eyesight and memory, the young wizard couldn't be entirely certain. After all, Dumbledore's violent muscle contractions and expansions had also affected the mark.
Just like the same person with the same tattoo looks different when he's fat and when he's thin, the marks on Dumbledore's body only look similar.
This made Ian unsure if his judgment was accurate. However, before Dumbledore could cover up the traces, the observant young wizard noticed something unusual. Just as the silver and black runes appeared, Ian noticed that the headmaster's shadow had unnaturally jagged edges.
It looked as if countless tiny black tentacles were wriggling.
He then dispelled the magic, and after Dumbledore got up, the strange phenomenon disappeared, as if it had been just a hallucination that the young wizard had momentarily imagined.
It's really a bit strange.
"Professor, you..." Ian's voice caught in his throat. He opened his mouth, intending to ask Dumbledore about the origin of these symbols, but seeing Dumbledore's unwilling expression, he swallowed the words back. He could only ponder and guess what the situation was.
Without a doubt, this must be a curse. Although it is unknown how Dumbledore suppressed it, judging from the actual situation, it still entangles Dumbledore, who has become a legend, like a maggot in his bone. This also shows that even the status of a legend may not be able to shake this curse.
"Perhaps I can help you?"
Ian wanted to try using the power of theory.
but.
Dumbledore hesitated for only a moment before decisively shaking his head. He waved his wand and straightened his wrinkled robes back into a close-fitting shape.
obviously.
The brief pain he had just experienced did not affect the old headmaster's ability to cast spells.
"It's just some old injuries, child. There's no need to worry too much, and no special treatment is required." When he turned around, that familiar, reassuring smile returned to his face, but Ian could clearly see that the old man's hands were still twitching slightly.
Perhaps the pain hasn't completely subsided.
However, he didn't want the young wizard to know, and his voice returned to its usual gentle tone, "As you get older, you're bound to have some minor health problems."
"You have to learn to accept it, after all, that's life." Dumbledore was able to spout some philosophical principles even at a time like this, which shows that people in the profession of teaching and educating may have made reasoning an instinct.
Ian remained noncommittal.
Since he had also withdrawn his magic, the entire valley returned to its twilight state, with the headmaster's shadow stretching long in the setting sun.
Many animals that were previously blessed have now lost their blessing, and it is this primal desire for survival that has driven them to gather around this area from all sides of the valley.
This applies not only to ordinary animals, but also to magical creatures, and even to the timid Bowtruckle. After all, the instinct of any living being will crave a leap in the level of existence.
The number of animals is increasing.
"It's getting late, Ian."
Dumbledore looked up at the darkening sky. "We should go back now. Let what happened today remain a dream in the hearts of these animals."
He seemed to be implying something.
Before the young wizard could even grasp the deeper meaning, the old headmaster had already raised his hand and placed the hand wearing a ring on Ian's shoulder.
The next moment, it was the familiar Apparition.
The two went straight back to the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, where the sweet aroma of honey tea mingled with the musty scent of parchment. The fire in the fireplace crackled softly, and the candlelight cast flickering spots of light, refracted by the silverware, casting Dumbledore's shadow onto the bookshelf behind him.
The anomalies that the young wizard had previously observed no longer exist.
However, Ian couldn't help but glance at Dumbledore's collar. The silver runes that had flashed across the canyon earlier had also disappeared, as if those patterns flowing with mysterious power had never existed, and could not even be sensed by using magic.
Regarding the gaze upon the young wizard.
The former principal could certainly sense it.
"I expect you to keep what you saw today a complete secret and not tell anyone," Dumbledore said, shaking his head with a hint of helplessness.
His voice remained gentle, but Ian noticed that the old man was unconsciously tapping the Elder Wand with his right index finger, the rhythm perfectly synchronized with the second hand of the clock on the wall—a rare display of tension from Dumbledore.
"This is important."
The old headmaster's voice suddenly turned extremely serious. His blue eyes stared directly at the young wizard. He gestured for Ian to sit in the visitor's chair, then went around to his desk. As he passed Fawkes, the phoenix suddenly opened one of its golden eyes.
It let out a barely audible cry.
It seemed to be expressing concern for its owner.
"I understand, Professor."
Ian nodded quickly, suppressing his curiosity and choosing to be a good boy. "I was just testing my magic; nothing else happened."
This might be a case of trying to cover something up.
However, this still allowed Dumbledore to breathe a slight sigh of relief. He obviously didn't explain his thoughts to Ian, but instead directly changed the subject.
Regarding the changes that have occurred in you, I don't think any special treatment is needed for now. Just pay attention to them.
I will also investigate the cause of this situation as much as possible.
Dumbledore's words always had a reassuring power. He pressed his fingers together, and his gaze behind his half-moon spectacles was thoughtful, as if he were making some kind of judgment.
"I will thoroughly investigate the origins of your bloodline."
The old principal's blue eyes gleamed behind his half-moon shaped lenses.
He clearly had some speculations based on rumors.
The young wizard opened his mouth, but couldn't find any explanation.
There's no way around it. Compared to the possibility that I might have once been a bird, being seen as a super hybrid isn't such a bad thing. At least I'm still human, right?
Seeing the young wizard looking somewhat dejected, the portrait of Phineas Black on the wall suddenly burst into laughter, but was immediately silenced by a look from Dumbledore.
"Ah, it's getting late." Dumbledore suddenly turned to the magic clock on the wall, its hands pointing to the end of the dinner party. "I think we should continue this topic another day. The dinner prepared by the house-elves shouldn't be wasted; I remember they even prepared your favorite beef for you tonight."
What a flimsy reason to send guests away.
Ian keenly sensed that Dumbledore might be somewhat unsettled. Without saying anything, he stood up and bowed slightly to the old headmaster in front of him.
"Okay, Professor, I'll be going now."
As Ian rose to leave, the bronze handle on the oak door was icy cold in his hand. In that instant, he glanced one last time through the closing crack in the door—Dumbledore was still sitting behind his desk, the candlelight flickering on his wrinkled face, illuminating the deep lines etched by time.
That is old age.
He is old.
There's also a sense of gloom and lethargy.
"Good night, Professor," Ian said softly.
"Good night, Ian," Dumbledore's voice seemed to come from a great distance.
Sweet dreams.
He offered his blessings softly.
The atmosphere in the office grew increasingly quiet. After the young wizard left, Dumbledore's smile gradually disappeared, replaced by an extremely complex expression.
He raised his wand.
The door lock made a "click" sound as it closed.
The Elder Wand drew a silver-blue arc in the air, and twelve magical barriers rose from every corner of the office, completely enveloping the space.
Sorry, old friends.
Dumbledore softly apologized to the portraits on the wall, tapped his wand lightly, and all the figures in the portraits froze instantly, even Phineas's half-raised wine glass stopped in mid-air.
This is absolutely incredible.
You see, he's the kind of person who can hide even secrets in these portraits, yet now he's inexplicably showing wariness towards the portraits of past headmasters—of course, this might not be about being wary of the headmasters themselves. His distrust might have other reasons, anyway, Dumbledore only stood in front of the mirror after sealing off his office.
He took a deep breath, his expression slightly pained, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his chest. His chest no longer possessed the explosive pectoral muscles it once had.
The skin appears slightly dry and loose.
Dumbledore stretched out his trembling hand and gently wiped his chest. As he moved, when his pale fingertips brushed against his third rib on the left, spiderweb-like black patterns suddenly appeared under his skin. The mysterious black pattern that the young wizard had witnessed before had reappeared.
There are also silver runes sealing the pattern next to it.
It was a terrifying pattern made up of interwoven triangles, circles, and vertical lines.
obviously.
Ian was not mistaken.
This design bears a striking resemblance to the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, but with the addition of twisted tendrils that spread like some kind of parasitic plant between the veins.
"Even the power of the gods cannot weaken it." Dumbledore looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes filled with helplessness and exhaustion, and sighed softly.
He stared at the mark on his chest. In the reflection, black lines were slowly and steadily eroding the silver runes' defenses, like ink spreading on parchment.
Perhaps because he had triggered the pattern again, Dumbledore's expression showed slight pain, so Fawkes flew over from a distance.
His glistening tears fell onto the writhing black patterns. As the phoenix tears touched them, the black patterns were suppressed and quickly suppressed by the silver runes.
"Thank you, Fox."
With a much more relaxed expression, Dumbledore thanked his companion. Fawkes, on the other hand, gently nuzzled the old man's cheek, making a series of worried chirping sounds.
"Yes, yes, I know." Dumbledore forced a smile. "But some prices must be paid, and if the rewards are good enough, then it's a worthwhile sacrifice."
His tone was calm.
Yet it carries with it an overly firm conviction.
The gargoyle on the covered bridge was dozing when it was suddenly struck twice with precise kicks, sending it sprawling. It angrily opened its brass eyes only to meet Ian, who was looking down in thought.
next moment.
The gargoyle jumped away as if it had been triggered, clearing a path for Ian to the corridor. The little wizard went out, but didn't forget to turn back and kick the gargoyle a few more times.
The gargoyle shrank its neck in grievance, not daring to protest at all, and could only remain in a frozen state, becoming a "alchemy creation" version of a cowardly turtle.
"Just do your job properly during work hours. If you neglect your duties even once, you'll be punished by having to work for free for a thousand years." Ian warned the gargoyle before leaving.
You know what?
Dumbledore's assessment of him was indeed quite accurate; the young wizard did indeed have the potential to become a heartless slave owner.
"Dumbledore is strange." After leaving the headmaster's office, Ian was still pondering. He believed that the trace that Dumbledore had hidden was definitely not a simple secret.
Perhaps even Grindelwald doesn't know?
While pondering and guessing in his mind, Ian walked through the castle corridor toward the chapel, just in time for the end of dinner.
Candles from the ceiling illuminated every table. Students from various colleges sat around their friends, their laughter creating a joyful symphony.
The air was filled with the aroma of delicious food. Roast turkey, pudding, pumpkin pie and other delicacies were laid out on the table, and their steaming appearance whetted Ian's appetite.
Ian was just looking for a table to eat.
Suddenly.
A sudden gasp erupted from the Gryffindor table. Ian looked over and saw Hermione and Longbottom looking anxious.
With great effort, he helped Ron walk out of the auditorium.
"Cough cough cough~ cough cough cough~" Ron's face turned red, his eyes widened, and he kept gesturing with his hands at his throat, looking very embarrassed.
"Weasleys again?" Ian raised an eyebrow and sat down in an empty seat at the Slytherin table. Aurora Grindelwald beside him was elegantly cutting a piece of lamb chop, the silver fork gleaming coldly between her fingers.
"This is the sixth time," Aurora said without looking up, a strand of platinum blonde hair falling beside her pale cheek. "This time, she's trying to swallow a whole fried chicken leg in one bite."
+
She lightly lifted a piece of succulent meat from the plate with the tip of her knife, bringing it to her mouth and chewing slowly and deliberately. "Mrs. Pomfrey should get him a private hospital bed."
The German girl's tone sounded as if she were genuinely giving advice.
"This is too tragic." Ian looked at the three people being carried out of the Great Hall. Hermione's curly hair was messy and frizzy from running, and Neville's round face was filled with fear.
His lips twitched slightly; his tone carried a wistful emotion only he could understand, "The new generation of Gryffindor's golden trio doesn't seem so reliable."
Just as Ian started gnawing on a chicken leg.
Not far from the long table.
Harry Potter, the savior, also saw him. The bespectacled boy quickly put down his cutlery and jogged somewhat awkwardly to Ian's side.
"Ian, thank you so much. If it weren't for you, I really don't know what I would have done—I might be dead, or worse."
Because of the large number of people and the potential for conflict, Harry Potter didn't elaborate on the details, but Ian could sense his heartfelt gratitude from his words.
It is clear that after Mr. Savior regained his consciousness, he also clearly knew who had saved him.
"It's nothing, we're just classmates, it was just a small favor." Ian put down his knife and fork, smiled at Harry, and showed his rare magnanimity.
of course.
Looking at the boy in front of him, Ian couldn't help but think of what he had learned about the Soul Palace in the past. He wondered if he could use Harry Potter to lure out Lily Evans of the Soul Palace.
"yawn!"
I don't know why.
Ian was clearly plotting against Harry Potter when he suddenly sneezed. The person looking around in confusion was none other than Snape, who was sitting in the teachers' table.