MMB Chapter 118, Section 117: The Game Behind the Scenes, Dumbledore's Scheme
Chapter 118, Section 117: The Game Behind the Scenes, Dumbledore's Scheme
Chapter 118, Section 117: The Game Behind the Scenes, Dumbledore's Scheme
With everyone's attention focused on the Forbidden Forest, no one noticed Aurora and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The young wizards continued their incessant chatter.
One is a house that already harbors prejudice against the headmaster of Gryffindor, while the other is Gryffindor, whose thinking has become increasingly divergent and distorted after being led astray.
Putting them together was a major mistake in the course scheduling.
"If Hogwarts changes its name, will we have to change our uniforms? Will we have to pay all the fees again? Then I can ask my family for a few more Galleons!"
"Oh! Someone go and inform Headmaster Dumbledore. I want to see his reaction!"
"Headmaster Dumbledore wasn't here this morning. I think he must have gotten the news immediately and hidden himself away. After all, even the most powerful succubus bloodline becomes less effective with age!"
"You're spouting utter nonsense and slandering the great Dumbledore! He's the pride of Gryffindor!"
His succubus bloodline certainly won't lose its effectiveness just because he's getting older!
The students had clearly been misled by the Daily Prophet's morning report. One of the young wizards even tried to use the more than 700 Dumbledore dolls his grandmother had sold to prove that Dumbledore's charm was undiminished. It seemed that this young wizard's family had been alchemists selling witchcraft supplies in Knockturn Alley for generations.
What is authority?
The statistics from this little wizard's family are truly authoritative!
"Do you sell Gellert Grindelwald dolls too?" One of the young wizards asked, seemingly out of nowhere, sparking the curiosity of the other onlookers.
"No, our family only does business in our own country."
This young wizard, with his family's scholarly tradition, may not yet realize the nature of his family's shop; his earnest and loud reply seemed to carry a hint of pride.
"It's not just Dumbledore; we also sell Miranda Gossack dolls. Those are our best-selling dolls, selling for the price of three Dumbledore dolls."
Say something.
His ability to attend Hogwarts is perhaps the true miracle of wizardry. Since those present were all young wizards, they clearly didn't understand just how valuable this wizarding miracle truly was.
"My mom seems to have bought a Dumbledore doll from your place. It looked exactly like the real thing and it could even move, but I don't know why she hid it in our barn."
"Can you do custom orders? I'd like to have my little dog made into a plush toy."
"That's a great idea! I want to turn my sister into a doll too! Every time she hits me, I'll take it out on her doll! I'll beat her doll up!"
Young wizards are always very innocent at this age. They don't understand the specific meaning of a witchcraft supplies store and really think it's a shop that makes and displays toys.
Some Slytherin wizards, in an attempt to curry favor with Aurora, deliberately voiced their discontent, saying that even in England, Grindelwald dolls should be made and sold, given that he was a powerful wizard who had left his mark on history. This statement garnered support from many other young wizards.
The veins on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's forehead were bulging.
obviously.
Among the new Slytherin and Gryffindor students, there is certainly no one with true prophetic talent. The current situation has already served as a testament to this for their teachers. After all, anyone with even a modicum of prophetic talent wouldn't have remained completely oblivious as the danger intensified.
The Fiendfire created by the Transfiguration spell might only be burning in the Forbidden Forest at this moment, but the students watching from inside the castle could very well, through their efforts, ignite a close-up Fiendfire performance within the castle itself. Even more spectacular, burning more thoroughly, leaving not a trace of ashes.
"Calm down! Professor! You must calm down!" Aurora could barely hold Gilderoy Grindelwald's hands down with both of hers; she was practically hanging on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's arm.
"They're just kids, just kids talking nonsense," Aurora kept whispering to Gilderoy Grindelwald, but thankfully he didn't insist on going his own way.
He shook off Aurora, who was dangling from his hand, but did not take out his wand. "Of course I know that, but I think it is very important for me to seriously consider what kind of arrangements should be made for the good students of Gryffindor and Slytherin in the upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
"These happy little wizards must be quite good at dealing with Dementors. At first grade, they should be old enough to learn how to cope with the environment of Azkaban."
"I'm going to build a mock classroom in the basement. I think it will be very educational." Gilderoy Grindelwald's expression didn't seem like he was trying to scare anyone.
He waved his sleeve and left the Transfiguration classroom, whether he was really going to capture Dementors and build a so-called simulation training classroom or not.
The other young wizards still didn't realize the seriousness of the problem.
Amidst the chattering sounds.
The young wizards were still discussing excitedly.
Only Aurora's face turned deathly pale. If Grindelwald really did summon a few more Dementors, it would be disastrous; she knew very well how ineffective her Patronus Charm was.
"Guardian Angel Spell - —"
This is why Aurora is afraid of Dementors; she has tried to practice this magic more than once these days, but has never been able to truly succeed.
The first setback in one's life is always more daunting.
"If I help my grandfather burn all these classmates now, will he change his mind?" Aurora might care about her classmates' safety, but not to the point of being overly sentimental.
"Miss Grindelwald, are you worried that Dumbledore is fighting with your family again?" A young wizard inappropriately noticed Aurora's hesitation and uncertainty.
Her question went unanswered by Aurora.
"You can all shut up now."
Aurora touched her forehead speechlessly. Seeing the clueless behavior of the young wizards, she sighed and put the wand she had taken out back into her robe.
I weighed the options in my mind for a moment.
The German girl still felt it was best to distance herself from the situation. Gazing at the Forbidden Forest where the professors were heading, she began to ponder where she would need to hide during future Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.
Forest ban is a good option.
However, the little house where Ian often hid to brew potions was quite appealing; at least hiding in that little house on the eighth floor meant not having to deal with any Dementors.
The fire dragon formed by more than ten Fiends was like Ian's minions, frantically searching for Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. He really didn't want Voldemort to escape.
It wasn't just because he wanted to use the Soul Furnace to burn some magic, but also because Ian knew Voldemort's vengeful nature. He knew that once Voldemort recovered, the guy might hold a grudge against him.
The potential risks are considerable.
Ian doesn't overestimate himself.
He knew he could only bully Voldemort in his remnant soul state; in terms of true strength, Voldemort in his prime was on the same level as Dumbledore.
Never underestimate the numerous dangerous magical transformations and modifications Voldemort performed on himself. Although they had side effects such as affecting his brain and intelligence, they did indeed grant Voldemort a tremendous boost in ability, allowing him to complete the accumulation of power that would have taken decades instead of years.
"It can be considered as pre-emptively mortgaging and exploiting his own future potential, which is foolish, but it is indeed very effective in the short term, saving many years of hard work."
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"I'm afraid even Grindelwald can't say he can beat this guy with certainty."
Ian still remembered the information he had learned from several legendary old warriors: there was a limit to the strength of wizards in the human world, so the rate at which wizards could become stronger would slow down considerably once they reached that limit.
Voldemort may have been inferior to Dumbledore at his peak, but the gap was certainly not particularly huge or obvious. At least they could be considered to be in the same tier of strong individuals.
They are all at the T0 level in the human realm.
"My magic power is barely at the Dean's level, but in other aspects, my accumulation is still too short."
Ian felt that apart from his magic power reaching the T1 level, he was still quite far behind the deans in terms of in-depth research into magic, experience, and combat skills.
What's lacking isn't just magic power, but also magical foundation and experience.
Therefore.
If facing Voldemort at his peak, Ian's performance would likely be inferior to that of the four Headmasters.
He's now the kind of guy who's incredibly skilled with just three moves.
Most wizards can't withstand Ian's three-pronged attack, but once a wizard manages to withstand it, they'll find that Ian doesn't have any better options afterward.
Voldemort, who can use magic without restraint, can certainly withstand it, so Ian doesn't think he's confident in dealing with a resurrected Voldemort. This is one of the reasons why he has been dedicated to killing Voldemort's remnant soul before Voldemort is resurrected.
Whether Harry Potter can continue to be the savior, or whether the Saviors can still use Voldemort to hone themselves, are all issues that Ian doesn't think he needs to consider.
All he wanted was to prevent the noseless Tom from causing trouble, so that he could have the time he so desperately needed to slowly build his foundation. Yes, Ian just wanted no one to stop or disturb his studies, so once he encountered the noseless Tom, he wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible!
I'll burn this fellow villager's ashes to aid my spiritual practice!
"Where did it hide?" Ian himself was also searching on his broom. His combined application of Transfiguration and Fiendfire had not yet reached the level of Grindelwald's requirements in "The Secrets of Advanced Black Magic".
These "Fiercefire Dragons" conjured by Ian merely possess his will—his desire to find Voldemort's shadowy figure. While this might be considered quite powerful for an ordinary wizard, it's still far inferior to Grindelwald's ability to transform Fiercefire into his eyes.
Grindelwald's Fiendfire could be considered a drone with a camera, while Ian's Fiendfire was just an automated machine with programmed commands but no camera.
If not.
They wouldn't bother Quirrell three times, but Ian was unaware that the fiery dragon had flown over Quirrell's hiding cave three times, each time scaring Quirrell into trembling fear.
"Master—who is this—who is looking for us?" Quirrell huddled in the cave, his stuttering not feigned but genuine terror.
"How could I have such a useless servant like you! Use your brain! Who else but our hypocritical headmaster could have managed to manipulate Fiendfyre like this?" Voldemort's voice echoed in Quirrell's mind again, carrying a hint of dissatisfaction with Quirrell, as well as an undisguised rage towards Dumbledore.
"Yes...that's right too."
Quirrell finally understood why Voldemort had fled. If Dumbledore was chasing Voldemort, then everything made sense, since Dumbledore had always lived up to his reputation as the most powerful wizard of the century.
"Do you really think I'm inferior to Dumbledore?!" Voldemort's furious roar sent shivers down Quirrell's spine. The timid Quirrell was already worried about being found, and Voldemort's furious roar in his mind made his already anxious heart tremble even more.
"No! No! Great master! Of course I wouldn't think that way—I'm just thinking about how we can escape—how to avoid this carpet search."
"As you know, if this continues—if it continues like this, it's only a matter of time before we're found," Quirrell immediately explained, expressing his inner concerns.
He was truly and utterly aggrieved. Others who joined the Dark Lord as Death Eaters at least enjoyed a few days of glory, but he hadn't even experienced half a day of honor before being dragged down to become a cowardly coward. The extraordinary knowledge he desired, and the broader prospects he longed for, were all denied him.
All he had was Voldemort's ever-increasing threat and an empty promise.
"Indeed, we can't stay passive like this forever." Even though Voldemort was weak and pinned down by Quirrell, he was still able to share Quirrell's senses.
They could even detect some changes that Quirrell hadn't noticed.
"What should we do?"
Quirrell gripped his wand tightly, as if only the wand could give him a sense of security.
"Several professors from the school are approaching—now is not a good time to confront them. We still need to use your identity to find what Dumbledore has hidden." Voldemort did not let Quirrell stand up, nor did he let Quirrell turn over so that he wouldn't be lying on top of him. His biggest worry right now was that Dumbledore would move the Philosopher's Stone.
"This—Master, thank you for your mercy, but I can't beat those professors!" Quirrell's body trembled even more violently, and his voice became choked with emotion.
"You're a complete coward! How could I have such a useless servant like you!" Voldemort cursed fiercely, venting his frustration. He had come for the Philosopher's Stone, of course, but who could have imagined that he would encounter such a tragic end before even getting close to it?
"I—I—"
Quirrell began to sob.
His grievances reached their peak.
"Apparate away from here! That guy is coming!" Voldemort shouted anxiously at the wailing Quirrell, probably sensing the powerful magic approaching.
"I—" I can't do it. Quirrell quickly and subconsciously shrank deeper into the cave. He was clearly not used to having a face under his butt.
This sudden movement caused Voldemort's face to rub against the ground again.
Unaware of his surroundings, he continued explaining, "Although this is just the Forbidden Forest, it's already outside the castle grounds."
—But apparition is still extremely difficult to achieve.
"My magic—my magic is very unstable right now." Quirrell didn't dare to blame Voldemort, but his unstable magic was indeed related to Voldemort's unauthorized "intrusion."
If he weren't worried that the unstable magic would teleport his body to different places, Quirrell would have immediately Apparated away the moment he discovered the fire dragon.
"roar!"
Just now.
Dragon roars echoed continuously outside the cave.
The situation was becoming increasingly urgent.
"You are the worst of all my servants!" Voldemort panicked and hurriedly mustered his weak soul to seize control of Quirrell's body.
All I saw was...
In excruciating pain, Quirrell's face seemed to be seeping with boiling oil, and Voldemort's grotesque, noseless face appeared to suddenly grow from beneath Quirrell's skin. His face and Quirrell's face were tightly intertwined, the overlapping appearance of the two faces grotesque and disgusting.
"I only lost one round!"
With eyes that seemed to have double pupils, Voldemort looked at the blue flame dragon that was constantly flying outside the cave. He controlled Quirrell's body and waved his wand. A strong spatial fluctuation suddenly swept him and Quirrell into it.
"Whoosh~"
He wasn't teleported too far, since Voldemort's soul was already extremely weak. Quirrell's figure disappeared into the Forbidden Forest and then appeared in Hogsmeade Village.
"Avada Kedavra!"
In a quiet alley.
Quirrell turned his head and saw a stunned witness. Before he could even finish his sentence, Voldemort, who was controlling his body, had already raised his wand and unleashed the Unforgivable Curse.
"Pass!"
A flash of green light.
The poor, innocent person fell to the ground.
Voldemort, now fused to Quirrell's face, looked extremely satisfied—this was his normal performance level! He was the great Dark Lord, feared by all, who could kill whomever he wished!
"Get out of here right now! Go back to school and pretend you never left!"
After Voldemort gave Quirrell the command, he fell silent, his chimera face gradually fading away. However, he found that after relaxing his guard, he failed to successfully move to the back of Quirrell's head. It was as if some faint but definitely present force was pulling him back towards Quirrell's buttocks.
To be honest, Voldemort was extremely resistant, but his weakened soul had cast spells twice through other people's bodies, so he really couldn't muster any extra strength to resist.
"Damn it!! What's wrong with your body!?"
Voldemort believed it was Quirrell's fault.
"What's wrong with my body?!" Quirrell was on the verge of tears. He felt that Voldemort must have some strange quirks, always crawling on his buttocks.
Could it be that this Dark Lord is going to stay there forever?
In this situation, would I still dare to go to the toilet?
"Get out of here first—" Voldemort responded weakly to Quirrell's buttocks, once again feeling his mouth overlap with one of Quirrell's body parts.
"Okay, okay." Quirrell forced himself to leave the alley, glancing back at the fallen witness. His pity and helplessness were fleeting.
"Don't blame me."
Quirrell silently prayed for a moment, then immediately left the secluded alley and ran towards the bustling main street.
Even now, there are still quite a few people strolling around Hogsmeade Village.
"Would you like to play chess, sir?"
Someone raised their hand to block the way, and Quirrell was startled by the sudden question.
"Get out of here!"
He quickly pushed away the person blocking his way, knocking them to the ground. Not only that, he even glared fiercely at the chess player at the stall, mimicking Voldemort's gaze.
"You asked for this!"
Seeing the chess player's somewhat panicked expression, Quirrell felt a little less aggrieved and immediately hurried towards the castle.
"Master, could Dumbledore have—" "Could he have already guessed that you would come back?" Quirrell, after all, was Ravenclaw's student, and his mind cleared up a bit after escaping danger and calming down.
"Of course, you fool, you only just realized that the hypocritical Dumbledore had such a scheme?"
Ultimately, this is just a power struggle between me and my professor.
"He wanted to get rid of me completely, so he threw away what I desperately needed as a gamble, and we were both aware of that. I entered the game willingly, but now it seems he's much more cunning and treacherous than I thought." Voldemort's voice regained some strength.
He gritted his teeth and spoke with great resentment, "Of course, we haven't lost everything. We still have a chance, and I will be the one laughing last!"
"If you get that Philosopher's Stone, if you get it—ha, Dumbledore will know what it means to be set on fire." Voldemort's voice echoed in Quirrell's mind.
He learned that Dumbledore was trying to use the Philosopher's Stone to prolong his life, which was why he borrowed the Philosopher's Stone from a legendary alchemist to concoct an elixir of immortality at Hogwarts.
This is clearly not a very plausible piece of news. Most wizards with some judgment and knowledge would not believe it. After all, being over a hundred years old is still the prime of life for a powerful wizard. Therefore, Dumbledore did not actually need to rush to use the Philosopher's Stone to prolong his life.
Voldemort knew this.
Dumbledore knew that Voldemort knew this. However, as long as the Philosopher's Stone was truly at Hogwarts, Dumbledore believed that Voldemort would definitely come.
This is true.
The disappearance of several Horcruxes, though threatening to Voldemort, still compelled him to come upon hearing of the Philosopher's Stone. This was the treasure that could truly resurrect him; he couldn't possibly remain unmoved by it. His return to the mortal realm was no easy feat.
"I'll definitely be the ultimate winner!"
Voldemort remained steadfast as he followed Quirrell, who was frantically rushing forward.
He didn't know.
Right behind him, facing the man, was the middle-aged wizard whose servant Quirrell had shoved him. Quirrell was sighing as he slowly rose from the ground.
"This is really a terrible day."
The middle-aged wizard patted the dust off his backside without any regard for his image.
"I'm going to be childless. Spit it out, I can't stop him, he's like he's gone mad, rushing headlong into his death, his sense of smell isn't even as good as that careless Germanic guy."
He sat back down in front of his chessboard, and although Quirrell had long since disappeared into the crowd, Quirrell's image seemed to still be reflected in his eyes.
Or rather, it reflects the image of Quirrell's face on his buttocks.
"It's a bit too early, but the impact shouldn't be too great." The chess player buried his head in arranging the Wizard's Chess pieces in front of him again. He didn't look up, but he had already sensed that someone had sat down opposite him.
"Want to play chess?"
The chess player was not surprised at all.
They were simply continuing to place the pieces.
"Aren't we already down there?" The young wizard had a gentle smile on his face. He had long, fluffy brown hair that was braided into simple braids and fell naturally over his shoulders.
Arthur King.
The alchemy professor at Hogwarts.
"Hehe, how about a simpler game of Wizard's Chess to relax a bit?" The chess player shrugged and looked up at the young professor opposite him.
"Of course, no problem, but don't cheat secretly."
Arthur King responded with a light laugh.
His chrome-green eyes were fixed on the chess player's hands as he placed the pieces, and his gaze reflected the pure silver ring with a raven pattern on the player's hand.
"If we're talking about cheating, then altering reality is cheating." The chess player didn't hide the thought of the ring on his hand.
His gaze also fell on Professor Arthur King's hands.
She was wearing a ring there as well.
It gleams with the color of bronze.
On the bustling street, a seemingly uneventful and unremarkable confrontation was taking place. Meanwhile, Ian failed to find Voldemort's trail as he had hoped.
He searched the entire surrounding area thoroughly, but couldn't find even a single hair on Voldemort's nose. He couldn't help but marvel at how skilled Voldemort was at escaping.
"They are professors."
Not only did Ian fail to find Voldemort, he also spotted several professors.
He spotted a few small dots in the distance, which was clearly not a good sign. He quickly deactivated his magic broom, allowing himself to be grabbed by the claws of a fiery dragon.
"Help! Someone, please help me! Help me!" Ian screamed in terror. He pretended to frantically wave his hands in the air, then realized that he didn't look like a wolf-fox with his head grabbed, so he adjusted his position and hung upside down on the Fiery Dragon's claws.
"Where am I?! I clearly fell asleep on the lawn outside the school, legally and legitimately! Ugh! Why did I end up in this godforsaken place?!"
He screamed hysterically at the top of his lungs.
This immediately attracted the attention of several professors who were using "Curse Stop" to eliminate other Fiendish dragons.
"It's the little wizard crying for help!"
Headmistress Pomona Sprout of Hufflepuff was the first to rush toward Ian's location. Several professors followed closely behind, and Philius Flitwick raised his wand to dispel the Fiendfyre dragon that had "grabbed" Ian.
"Splash~"
Ian began to fall rapidly, scraping off many leaves from the branches. Just as he was wondering if he should stop acting, or he would have to make intimate contact with the scorched forest face to face, he was...
Pomona Sprout quickly cast a levitation spell on Ian, suspending him in mid-air. Ian then resumed his frantic, clawing antics.
"He's a little wizard from our academy!"
Felius Frivi recognized Ian and exclaimed in surprise.
"Dean! Dean! Professors! I've been arrested!" Ian tried his best to make his wide eyes look terrified and innocent, but the three deans exchanged strange glances.
"Mr. Prince, your Transfiguration skills have indeed improved very quickly. You can even perform multi-person transformations on Fiendfyre. I think many adult wizards who have graduated can't compare to you." Professor McGonagall ruthlessly exposed Ian's performance. She never raised her wand to try to save Ian from beginning to end.
It's obvious they've seen through everything all along.
"Did the dark wizard kidnap me?" Ian's voice was less confident. He felt as if the three deans all had the eyes of eagles, surrounding him as he hovered in mid-air.
Professor McGonagall's gaze was particularly sharp and serious.
"Transfiguration is a type of magic that makes it extremely difficult to hide one's personal style and traces. Don't forget, Professor McGonagall taught you Transfiguration." Philius Frivy's expression was very strange.
He proactively reminded the students in his own college.
The dean had very mixed feelings ever since he realized that Ian had orchestrated the whole thing.
This guy just asked me about the Guardian Spell a few days ago and now he's playing with Fiendfire?
It looks like Ravenclaw is going to produce Grindelwald instead of Dumbledore!
Look at that insane combination of Fiendfyre and Polymorph! If it weren't for the wrong location and the wrong spell choice...
Felius Frivi really wanted to boost his college's reputation as a fierce wolf.
"How can you know such dangerous magic? And you dare to use it so boldly?" Pomona Sprout covered her mouth, looking at Ian with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
She had clearly never encountered a similar situation in her teaching career. The surging magic contained in those fiends made her think that Hogwarts had been attacked by a powerful dark wizard.
Who would have thought—he's just a little wizard? Pomona Sprout was the last to realize this, and she hesitated, really wanting to ask Ian what he ate growing up.
Do you eat basil?
"I think we all need a reasonable explanation, Mr. Prince, what are you doing?" Professor McGonagall looked around at the rather appalling surroundings.
The Fiery Dragon had been completely wiped out, but traces of its burning presence still remained, especially in the large area she was looking at that had been reduced to scorched earth.
There's really nothing left!
It's like some kind of fierce battle has taken place!
Even if the forest's self-repair speed is not slow, even if the remnants of the Fiery Blaze are cleaned up and a growth spell is applied to the land, it will still be difficult to return to its original state in several years.
"Remember, think carefully before you answer!" Philius Frivius couldn't bear to part with such an excellent student, so he spoke in a deep voice with a hint of suggestion, reminding Ian.
Burn the forbidden forest.
This matter is neither a huge nor a small one, and the most crucial thing is that this fire is a terrifying Fiendfire! If we really investigate it further, even if the first-year wizards don't go to Azkaban, they will still be expelled.
Looking at the seemingly harmless young wizard, Felius Flitwick truly didn't want him to go to Azkaban. There was no Dementor Headmaster there who appreciated talent. Ravenclaw had finally produced such a prodigious talent; how could they let him ruin his future at such a young age because of a moment's carelessness?
"I don't want you to tell me you're just trying to play a joke on us."
Professor McGonagall took a deep look at the Forbidden Forest, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes filled with annoyance and deep concern for Ian's behavior.
Anyone would feel worried in this situation.
In first grade, he started causing trouble by setting fire to the forbidden forest.
Where will it burn when it grows up?
London?
Is it still Paris that hasn't been burned down?
Or perhaps it surpassed its predecessor, burning all the way from London to Paris!
"Of course I wasn't joking, I was forced into it ———"
Ian sighed, and before he could explain further, Felius Frivié blurted out the answer first.
"You accidentally released the magic, didn't you?" Philius Flitwick felt the young wizard deserved a chance to redeem himself. Perhaps this little guy had simply learned the magic by chance, and then accidentally used it with the same proficiency he'd practiced for decades in the Forbidden Forest?
He thought to himself that this.
It's clear they really value talent.
"I did release the Fiery Curse on my own initiative, but there was a reason for it."
Ian's head-shaking made Felius Frivi pound his chest in frustration, speechless. However, Ian's next words made his hand suddenly stop in mid-air.
"There really are dark wizards—I encountered one at school." Ian felt that the school's underground passage should also be considered part of the school, so he was probably not lying about this.
"A dark wizard?"
Professor McGonagall frowned.
"No way, Hogwarts has always been very safe. No dark wizards have ever infiltrated it in all these years." Pomona Sprout looked utterly astonished.
"You were chased by a dark wizard to the Forbidden Forest and forced to use Fiendfire in retaliation?" Philius Flitwick was also concerned about the rumors of a dark wizard appearing at Hogwarts, but he was more interested in how to rescue his future prefect from the quagmire of arson that might condemn him to the crime.
"Forehead·----"
Ian hesitated for a moment. He wanted to use the help of the deans to find Tom, who had no nose, as soon as possible, so he didn't continue to hide it but carefully spoke up.
"Considering the potential harm the dark wizard might pose to the school, I chased him all the way to the Forbidden Forest. He tried to kill me, so I used Fiendfire to counterattack and break his evil dark magic."
"Unfortunately—he still got away—." Ian's frustration wasn't an act, but a true reflection of his inner feelings. He was genuinely upset about not burning Voldemort's remnant soul in time.
"Oh, I see. I knew you wouldn't have done this for no reason—wait, what do you mean you chased the black wizard all the way to the Forbidden Forest and slaughtered him?"
Felius Frivi appeared to be a beat slow to react.
His eyes widened.
His expression was filled with indescribable shock.
"Shouldn't the dark wizard be hunted down?"
Ian's answer left the dean speechless.
The two female deans, whose expressions had already become somewhat strange due to Ian's remarks, exchanged a glance, and were then taken aback by the conversation between the two, one big and one small, at Ravenclaw.
After a moment of silence.
"Even if there really is a dark wizard, you should have informed the professor instead of pursuing him on your own. It's an extremely risky gamble; you could easily be killed by the dark wizard if you're not careful."
Professor McGonagall wanted to reprimand Ian for being even more reckless than the Gryffindors, but after looking at Ian, who wasn't even covered in mud, she found it hard to finish her reprimand.
"In short, you should inform us."
Professor McGonagall coughed twice, her expression remaining extremely serious.
"It all happened so suddenly, Professor McGonagall. If I don't hunt him down, he'll kill me. You have no idea just how evil that dark wizard is."
Ian pulled out his wand mid-air, and under the somewhat bewildered gazes of the three professors, he directly held the wand to his temple, drawing out a wisp of silver light.
"I need to show you for yourself." Ian didn't want to waste any more time letting Voldemort escape.
So he sprinkled the silver light into the air and chanted an incantation.
"The old days are back!"
This is a spell that doesn't exist in textbooks, but it is recorded in the Hogwarts library. It's a spell that can project memories. It's not as powerful as the memory magic that Dumbledore once used, but it can at least be considered a 3D recreation of the caster's experiences.
And so.
The twisted, deformed creature, the face on the deformed creature, and the remnant soul of Voldemort were all vividly recreated—Ian, of course, could not show the scene of the Unforgivable Curse being unleashed.
He felt that showing the professors Voldemort's ugly side would be enough.
Professor McGonagall's expression changed when she saw the deformed monster, and the expressions of the other two professors also changed drastically when Voldemort's sinister and terrifying remnant soul was revealed.
"This is—no! Impossible!" Pomona Sprout exclaimed in shock, covering her mouth. Of course, she could recognize who that wisp of remnant soul was.
"Heavens above! By Merlin! The dark wizard you were hunting... how could it be... him?"
Felix Flitwick also gasped, but what made him fall silent was clearly not just seeing Voldemort, but also realizing a very horrifying problem.
A first-year wizard was hunting down a mysterious person whose name couldn't be mentioned, and yet he hadn't been killed by the mysterious person. This was an absurd situation that he never dared to dream of!
"We need to notify Dumbledore! This is beyond our control—Mr. Prince, can you assure us that the memory you presented is genuine?" Professor McGonagall, her lips already pale, suddenly looked at Ian, her voice trembling slightly with extreme seriousness.
Just as Ian was about to swear on the lives of his two best roommates.
"I think I'm here now, Minerva—" Dumbledore's voice suddenly came from the other end of the Forbidden Forest, and an old man with a full head of white hair and a silver beard slowly walked out.
He wore his signature purple robe covered in silver stars, though it trailed slightly on the ground and was stained with dirt. However, this did not diminish the sense of security Dumbledore instilled in the heads of the house.
"You're finally back."
The three deans visibly breathed a sigh of relief.
at the same time.
Ian's heart was in his throat—he wasn't afraid of Dumbledore's reprimand, of course; he just saw Hagrid, the half-giant who was over three meters tall, behind Dumbledore, and Snape, whose face was ashen and whose eyes seemed to want to boil the little wizard into a potion.