vncnus Chapter 124, Section 123: Karma and Retribution, The Mystery of Arthur
Chapter 124, Section 123: Karma and Retribution, The Mystery of Arthur
Chapter 124, Section 123: Karma and Retribution, The Mystery of Arthur
The words of the bronze eagle head surprised Ian.
The place he went to was clearly a dungeon jointly built by the four giants, so why was he marked by Slytherin? Could it be because the passage he entered was located next to the secret chamber passage?
"What do you mean by 'chosen'?" Ian raised his hand, looking at the faintly glowing ouroboros symbol. He had a feeling that the color and appearance of this rune didn't seem like anything good. "I can only tell you that it's related to a reward Slytherin received." The bronze hawk tilted its head and spoke softly, choosing not to beat around the bush or make things difficult for Ian.
"For some time in the past, Salazar Slytherin would often lock himself in a room, the Chamber of Secrets that he left behind at Hogwarts before he left."
Upon hearing this...
Ian nodded. "I know this story. It was mentioned in 'Hogwarts: The Ten Secrets.' He even put some of his collection in the Chamber of Secrets."
Ian, who already knew that the Bronze Falcon Head was no less gossipy than the Fat Lady, did not want to reveal that he had found the Chamber of Secrets in Slytherin.
He bet that if he dared to tell the Bronze Eaglehead about this, the rumor that he was a descendant of Slytherin would probably spread throughout Hogwarts before tonight.
Ian, now already known in rumors as Ambrose Dumbledore Grindelwald Prince, certainly doesn't want another surname to appear at the end of his name—a four-surname hybrid would be one thing, but...
The fact that he has five surnames might make people suspect that his ancestors had the bloodline of a magical teddy bear.
Fortunately, the bronze eagle head didn't seem to have much curiosity about this.
"This isn't just a rumor or a story. I know that the so-called Chamber of Secrets does exist, and what Salazar Slytherin was researching in the Chamber of Secrets is related to the great treasure you found?" The bronze eagle's voice carried a hint of smugness, as if it had misunderstood what Ian meant by the great treasure.
obviously.
This door knocker is not omniscient about the secrets of Hogwarts.
"What is he studying?" Ian tried rubbing his hand vigorously on the back of his hand a few times, and then used magic to try to remove the curse-like mark.
"Studying very profound things."
The bronze eagle's response did not satisfy Ian.
"You don't know, do you?" Ian used reverse psychology to provoke the Bronze Eagle Head, but to his surprise, the Bronze Eagle Head simply nodded.
"Yes, all I know is that before Salazar Slytherin left, he said he would leave a little surprise for future reckless people, and I think what you received was that little surprise."
The bronze eagle head did reveal some useful information after all.
"A little surprise? It's not poisonous, is it?" Ian even poured some of Voldemort's great-aunt and great-uncle's blood on his hand, but he still couldn't remove or even suppress the green runes on the back of his hand.
He suspected that the Slytherin bloodline in the Gaunt family might not be pure.
"Who knows? After all, I'm just a bird."
The bronze eagle's tone was extremely calm. After a pause, it spoke again in a frightening tone, "However, Salazar Slytherin was said to be furious at the time."
P
?
Ian, however, was not intimidated.
"Wake up, you're just a metal door knocker carved into a bird." He retorted without backing down, his sharp words leaving the bronze eagle head somewhat melancholy.
"How do you know I wasn't once a bird? Maybe my brain is just stuck in a door knocker."
"Give me a pair of wings and I'll definitely be able to fly and show you."
"Of course, I could also just be a door knocker fantasizing about becoming a bird. Anything is possible. Perhaps you could knock open my skull and see if I actually have a brain inside."
The bronze eagle's mental state became increasingly bizarre, which reminded Ian of the awakening of artificial intelligence. He wondered if this was related to his frequent interactions with the creature.
Logically speaking, it shouldn't matter. After all, over the course of a thousand years, the bronze eagle head must have interacted with many people. Perhaps it was this accumulation of a thousand years that caused it to have wild thoughts.
"I wanted to study your manufacturing process, but not now." Ian saw someone open the door; the Ravenclaw wizards, so competitive, always got up very early.
Good morning, Ian.
The third-year square-headed senior greeted Ian.
Have a nice day, cool-looking senior.
Since the other person had never attended his class, Ian didn't remember the senior's name, but that didn't stop his amazement from making the third-year senior beam with joy.
Sometimes, handling interpersonal relationships is that simple—especially within the school setting.
"Won't you continue talking?" Seeing Ian slip through the door his senior had opened, the bronze eagle's tone was full of regret and resentment.
"Can we talk so you can tell me how to figure out what it is?" Ian stopped the door and raised his hand. He felt that the founder of Hogwarts wouldn't put any curses on future students, just like the Basilisk wasn't left to eliminate Muggle students but to protect the school.
In the era of its founders, establishing such a school was no easy feat. The numerous secret passages within Hogwarts also served as a means of evacuation for teachers and students in the event of an invasion. The basilisk was originally intended to be a guardian, but it seems Voldemort later misused it.
"I am just a bird."
The bronze eagle head reiterated that it was not omniscient.
Ian sighed regretfully.
"I'm just a little wizard who's about to start classes." In the end, he didn't want to escalate the conflict between himself and the bronze eagle-headed wizard, so he found a reasonable excuse to leave.
Since he already had two classes in the morning, Ian tucked all the necessary textbooks under his armpit and then woke up his two roommates with a slap each.
"Oh no! Rebecca and I just had our baby!" Michael didn't know what he was regretting; he seemed to want to live a completely happy life in his dreams.
"You didn't come back last night?" William seemed to have not dreamed last night. He just looked at Ian's unchanged bed, rubbed his sleepy eyes, and walked into the bathroom.
"I was secretly studying while you were sleeping." Ian put some psychological pressure on William, who looked extremely uncomfortable with a suspicious expression.
He fears this kind of thing the most.
"Why do people with better talent have to work so much harder than us?! Damn it! I'm going to study all night tonight too!" William truly put his determination into action.
On his way to the auditorium for breakfast, he had already started studying his textbook, specifically the least desirable subject, "History of Magic," seemingly hoping to at least win once in this universally disliked discipline.
It must be said that the little trick was quite ingenious.
"Eat this! This is delicious!"
"Don't steal my cream cake!"
Why would anyone put chili peppers in a cake?!
Everyone was enjoying their meal at the long table laden with delicious food. Ian, however, only ate half a pound of lamb patties and three cups of extra-sour, concentrated lemonade because he had some indigestion from the previous night.
He had been watching the owls that delivered messages today, and he saw that quite a few young wizards had received howling letters, though the volume of those letters was far less than that of the Weasley mother.
Molly Weasley's howl letter completely overshadowed the roars of the other young wizards' parents in their letters. Ian didn't know if it was because the twins had been caught out at night, or if one of them had broken their wand.
All he heard was Molly Weasley's loud roar mentioning that the broken wand would be repaired.
This mother, who had raised many children, clearly didn't want to pay for the twins' new wands, or perhaps she couldn't afford it. This led one of the twins to let their younger brother, Ron, experience the discomfort of a battle-damaged wand beforehand. Ian saw the twins and they all looked ashen-faced, wishing they could disappear into the floor.
Although he heard last night that Fred's wand had been broken, no one could be sure who the two were, and who knew if they had used each other's names when they went out at night.
This perfectly captures the human glimmer that most people use the name of a good friend when doing bad things.
"There really hasn't been an update!"
Ian's observation of the owls delivering messages was not without reason; he hadn't seen a single owl deliver the Daily Prophet by the time everyone had finished eating and started leaving the hall.
The Daily Prophet has ceased publication!
The efficiency of more than ten saints was truly remarkable!
"Clearly, the Daily Prophet didn't predict the trouble it got itself into—that's a real hellish joke." Ian felt that the idea that "authoritative figures are generally the least authoritative" was becoming increasingly valuable.
During his somewhat boring flight lesson in the morning, he kept pondering whether the Daily Prophet would ever exist again.
Or perhaps the Daily Prophet will be turned into the Daily Saints' Daily Horror by the saints?
"Pay attention, Mr. Prince. Do you want to continue being banned from flying lessons?" Mrs. Rolanda Hodge interrupted Ian's reverie.
She was explaining how to deal with some dangerous flying situations. They were all common knowledge, but the reason she was explaining them so solemnly was probably because some young wizards were actually trying to put lightning rods on their flying brooms.
"Is there really such a good thing?"
Ian was initially overjoyed, but then he saw the speechless expression on Rolanda Hodge's face and immediately changed his tune, "What I meant was that I really feel particularly sorry."
talking.
He reluctantly put down his flying broom and prepared to rush towards the castle to study in the library. Little did he know that Rolanda Hodge was just trying to scare him.
"Stop right there!"
Mrs. Rolanda Hodge caught up with Ian on her flying broomstick.
"Get back to your seat and listen to the lesson right now, you little rascal!" She grabbed Ian and dragged him back to the little wizards' line, ultimately thwarting Ian's plan to play dumb and skip class.
In the following lectures.
The flight instructor even paid special attention to Ian, quizzing him on many points after explaining them once, forcing Ian to concentrate on remembering every word Mrs. Hodge said.
"I'll be paying close attention to your grades at the end of the semester!" Mrs. Hooch was clearly very worried about Ian's flying studies; she was unaware of Ian's alchemical plan to phase out his flying broomstick.
"I think I flew pretty well—"
Ian felt that Mrs. Hodge's concern for him probably stemmed from the fact that she wasn't in the Forbidden Forest yesterday; otherwise, she would have definitely given him a perfect score on his final exam.
And so, under Mrs. Hooch's close attention, the not-so-pleasant flying lesson came to an end, and Ian was even kept behind by Mrs. Hooch for a private lecture.
"Every year I encounter troublemakers like you, and when they break their legs, they all regret it."
.
Mrs. Hodge tried her best to educate Ian.
Unexpectedly.
The little wizard pulled out a bottle of potion that could repair severed limbs.
"I think they need this."
Ian knew that Mrs. Hodge was doing it for his own good, but the practice method of flying at extremely low altitudes did not fit the high-efficiency learning model that he had always adhered to.
Mrs. Hooch's expression was quite remarkable.
She remained silent for a long time before continuing, "Although your potion seems to be of very high quality, it can only regenerate severed limbs. In some dangerous situations, you might not even have the chance to drink the potion—for example, falling from a great height."
She hadn't finished speaking.
Ian then pulled out his wand and conjured a hang glider behind him.
"??????"
Mrs. Hooch was speechless, unsure how to respond. She couldn't understand why the young wizard, who excelled in all other subjects, couldn't consistently perform well in her class.
"Excuse me, Professor, was I being too thorough?" Ian withdrew his magic and looked at Madam Hooch with a tea-scented expression.
Mrs. Hooch felt that her teaching career had encountered its greatest challenge yet, and she even missed those students who secretly carried out dangerous flights.
At least other troublemakers want to learn from them, don't they?
For the next ten minutes, Madam Hooch seemed to have guessed Ian's purpose and began trying various methods to arouse his interest in learning. Ian appreciated his teacher's good intentions, but after Madam Hooch let him go, he was still somewhat disappointed that Madam Hooch wasn't as easily angered as Snape.
"Maybe next time I should learn from Malfoy and steal other people's things." Ian really wanted to be banned from flying lessons for good. His rebellious behavior wasn't because he really wanted to go against Madam Hooch; he just felt that he could gain a lot more magical proficiency by spending his flying lesson time in the library.
To be fair, Ian's thinking was a bit too unbalanced, and even God might not approve, which is why he was punished by Snape after being late for Potions class.
Not only was he unable to team up with Aurora to brew potions, but he also had to complete his homework under Snape's watchful eye.
Three batches were brewed in one go, but Snape rejected them all, deeming them inferior potions, and made them brew again.
Snape was also quite shrewd. Ever since the Peeves incident, he hadn't said anything about Ian's potions lacking soul, only using potions of such poor quality that even Knockturn Alley wouldn't sell to mock Ian.
Because he didn't complete the punishment as required last night, Ian had no choice but to swallow his anger and endure the fourth round.
It wasn't until all the other young wizards had finished their lessons that his potion-making finally earned Snape's cold snort of approval. However, just as Ian was about to leave, Snape still wasn't entirely done with him.
"I remember reminding you that you can't use magic to clean the toilets—you'll need to clean them all over again tonight." Snape stood in front of the classroom doorway.
"But all the toilets are clean now!" Ian regretted not choosing to climb out the window, and could only argue back to Snape.
however.
Snape was prepared for this; he simply waved his wand and pulled a large bucket from under the podium. "Then wax all the toilets!"
This is absolutely an attempt to find fault even when there's nothing wrong, to make Ian suffer punishment.
"Waxing the toilet?"
Ian had never seen such an outrageous operation in his life.
He thought it was absurd enough.
Unexpectedly, Snape revealed a half-smile, giving him another shock. "To prevent you from showing your cunning and cheating habits again when I'm not looking, these waxes are something I specially made for you. Your magic cannot control them to automatically complete the work that is supposed to be yours."
What a wonderful potion-making process!
Ian, not believing in such superstitions, tried it out, but he really couldn't control the wax in the barrel. It seemed that some substances that were difficult to interact with magic had been added to the wax.
"You actually used this material to wax a toilet?!"
Ian was dumbfounded.
Snape was very pleased with his expression.
"To deal with a cunning and lazy brat like you, we need to use some special methods." He flicked his cloak, leaving Ian and the bucket of wax in the classroom.
Ian sensed Snape's malice and determination to make him suffer, even at great personal cost. He felt terrible and, in a very mystical way, began to wonder if it was related to his disobedience in his previous flying lesson.
"They've suffered the consequences of their actions!"
Ian's luck was probably not so good today. He had just put the wax into his large money bag when he turned the corner after leaving the classroom and ran into a real jinx.
Sunlight streamed into the corridor through the window, and in the bright light, a figure with a garlic clove wrapped around his waist and a large bandage around his buttocks walked towards them.
The traitor, Kee Lo.
He may have already healed his buttock injury, but he certainly couldn't let anyone know. So after being subjected to the combined effects of ice and fire and physical attacks by the young wizard, he kept pretending that his buttock injury was very serious. It's hard to imagine what kind of determination it took for Voldemort to willingly be wrapped in bandages.
"Good afternoon, Professor Quirrell."
Ian noticed that Quirrell paused slightly and looked flustered when he saw him, wondering if Voldemort had told this traitor their story.
"Hello, little wizard."
Professor Quirrell also stammered when he met Ian.
"You seem a little nervous?"
Ian tried to calm Quirrell down.
"No—no, I'm just a little weak." Quirrell's eyes darted around as he tried to change the subject. "Aren't you going to the auditorium for lunch?"
A very poor technique for changing the subject.
Ian smiled.
"I plan to go to the library to study; I ate too much last night and have some indigestion." He really wanted to go to the library to study alchemy.
"What a studious little wizard! Your dedication to knowledge will surely lead you to surpass those mediocre ones." Quirrell's voice suddenly returned to normal.
"It is my honor to receive your praise, Professor."
Ian maintained his smiling expression. He realized that the person he was talking to might not be Quirrell, but he showed no outward signs of discomfort.
"This isn't praise, just stating the facts. Of course, I also want to remind you that in the pursuit of magic, don't try to arrogantly delve into too much dark magic, like those books in row sixty-two of the forbidden section."
It can easily corrupt the souls of those with weak wills.
Quirrell, or rather Voldemort who had gained control of the body, spoke to Ian in a serious tone, his words clear and without a trace of stuttering.
"Okay, Professor."
Ian didn't think Voldemort was being kind in reminding him. He could tell that Voldemort was playing mind games with him, trying to trick him into learning magic that could corrupt the soul.
Murder using a book.
The Dark Lord's heart is truly filthy.
"Always remember that while magic can bring great power, most learners will only fall into the abyss. Never think that you are any different from others."
Voldemort, controlling Quirrell's body, finished speaking with a meaningful tone and tried to pat Ian on the shoulder, but Ian nimbly dodged it.
"Sorry, Professor, I have mysophobia." Ian was naturally on guard against Voldemort's underhanded tricks. Both his hands were in his robe pockets, one holding his wand and the other holding a bottle of anti-magic potion made from old bones. Anyway, it contained either Voldemort's great-aunt or Voldemort's uncle.
"A very good habit. For someone who brews potions, being a clean freak isn't a bad thing." Quirrell gave Ian a deep look, then continued walking forward.
His figure gradually disappeared into the distance.
Ian watched Quirrell until he disappeared from sight before turning his gaze away.
"It's a pity - I don't know what Dumbledore is trying to do, otherwise I would definitely help Hogwarts purify the air." Ian hated the smell of garlic in the air.
If it weren't for the fact that there were many young wizards nearby who might harm innocent people, he would definitely have played the role of Lam Ching-ying and used the [Soul Furnace] to exorcise the souls that shouldn't remain in the human world.
"That's too much! Even more so than me! Nobody's allowed to jump around like that at Hogwarts." Ian knew all too well how much malice Voldemort harbored towards him during their brief exchange.
This seemingly mentally unstable Dark Lord, though perhaps not completely mentally damaged, employed a considerable amount of psychological knowledge about "reactionary psychology" in his conversation with Ian.
It's not particularly clever.
However, for children around ten years old, it is an extremely useful guiding method. Children of this age love to try things that others advise against doing.
Especially with the added hints of "weak mind," "arrogance," and "don't think you're different," if Ian were really just a talented little wizard who hadn't experienced any setbacks and saw Quirrell as a Hogwarts professor, he would most likely have fallen for it because of his resentment.
"The sixty-second row of the forbidden books section is full of curses. The books themselves are even cursed. No wonder he would want to get rid of me without anyone noticing." Ian knew more about the forbidden books section than he knew about the Ravenclaw common room. Voldemort's little schemes seemed utterly ridiculous to him.
This guy who talks about conquering the world, how come he only dares to use such methods to scheme against others?
"Ms. Ravenclaw is right. What a load of crap, the Dark Lord. He's just playing the tricks of some gangsters."
After Ian looked away, he quickly walked towards the library.
His research on the Resurrection Stone fueled his enthusiasm, but finding books related to Death in the vast library was not an easy task.
Even though Ian was very familiar with the library, he still only knew the types of books he had studied before, and he rarely learned about legendary beings like Death.
In fact.
Throughout the entire wizarding world, very few wizards, even the most ruthless among them, have ever mentioned anything related to death in their works.
In the midday Ian searched through the books, apart from some horrifying stories with dramatic plots, there was absolutely no clue about the Resurrection Stone or its creation.
"I'm about to throw up from reading the story of the three Death Brothers!" After reading more than ten different versions of the story, Ian had no choice but to give up his research for the time being and go to class instead.
The afternoon classes went smoothly, except that Professor McGonagall left the classroom in a hurry after class. Everything else was no different from any other day.
After dinner.
Ian first went to the Room of Requirement to adjust the potion he had brewed, then put on that wicked outfit again and began to complete the task that Snape had set for him to make things difficult for him.
The young wizards had mostly returned to their lounges to rest, so there was no chance of them accidentally bumping into anyone. It's worth mentioning that in the abandoned women's restroom on the second floor, Ian didn't get a chance to explain to Myrtle. The ghost immediately scurried into the toilet in terror as soon as it saw him enter.
"I'm not the person you think I am!"
Ian knew that Myrtle had heard his parsnip and had some stereotypical misunderstandings about him, but before he could say anything, Myrtle disappeared down the toilet.
"I guess I've been unfairly blamed for Tom's actions? If we round it up, he framed me, so he should be the fuel that helps me in my cultivation."
Ian finished his "confinement" punishment with a bucket of wax that was still more than half full. He had been very frugal with the wax, so that he could take advantage of his position to keep the remaining materials.
If you extract something from this stuff, the material value inside is quite high; only someone as rich as Snape could afford it.
They added it to the wax oil, which would be wasteful, just to prevent Ian from being lazy.
"I wish I could be that rich someday. Sigh, if those bricks in the underground palace were really gold, I could finally fulfill my wish to take a bath with Felix Felicis." Ian returned to the door of the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor. His current situation only allowed him to take a bath in the free hot spring water.
"Um?"
Ian tried to open the House of Requirement with practiced ease, but found that it did not appear. He tried twice before realizing that the House of Requirement was occupied.
"Who could it be?"
Ian had only shared this place with Aurora. Could it be that Aurora was secretly brewing a truth potion inside? Just as he was wondering about this and was about to ask the dumb Banaba who was being beaten up by the trolls,
"Splash!"
The gate appeared.
The sound of a toilet flushing could be heard from inside. The next moment, just as Ian was wondering why someone would use the Room of Requirement to relieve themselves, the door was opened by the person inside.
"Huh?"
Ian looked somewhat surprised when he saw the person coming out of the Room of Requirement. He had thought that the person who was using the toilet inside would be Aurora or Dumbledore.
"Did I take up your room? It seems this place can't accommodate two people at the same time." Grindelwald, who came out, was applying something that looked like hand cream to his hands.
"You're using the Room of Requirement as a toilet?" Ian stared at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in front of him, somewhat astonished that someone who had only joined the professorship this semester could actually find the Room of Requirement.
"Son, you have to understand older people," Grindelwald said with a touch of humor, glancing back at the disappearing wall with a look of amazement.
"This school is indeed more profound than I imagined." Clearly, Durmstrang School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where Grindelwald studied, did not have a Room of Requirement.
"It's quite impressive that you were able to find it," Ian remarked sincerely. Even among the heads of Hogwarts, very few knew about this Hufflepuff's secret hut.
"I might need to go to the toilet frequently and can't hold it in for long, but I don't think I'm old enough to have bad eyesight. I've seen you coming and going here all the time."
Grindelwald's reply puzzled Ian. He quickly ran to the railing and peered down.
However, the Defense Against the Dark Arts office is not located in a place that is out of sight.
"I have a crystal ball."
Grindelwald stepped forward and explained the situation to Ian.
Ian looked speechlessly at the old man beside him who had Lockhart's appearance. He had thought Grindelwald was Danzo from Hogwarts, but he never expected that the other party would openly say such an invasion of privacy.
"I will call you Shadow Witch." Ian remembered that in the movie "Legend of the Blood" he had seen before, there was a character named Naruto who had a similar bad habit of spying.
"Aurora said you always say things I can't understand, pfft, she's right." Grindelwald flicked his hand and headed toward the stairs.
"Wait a minute, Professor."
After weighing his options, Ian raised his hand to stop Grindelwald.
"Are you asking about the Daily Prophet? Don't worry, it will be republished in a while. I just had someone train them a bit, letting them know what kind of professionalism they should have." Grindelwald raised an eyebrow and stopped walking, his tone light and cheerful.
"Could you ask them to publish my work?" Ian's real intention in stopping Grindelwald was certainly not that, but Grindelwald had given him the opportunity to pull out one of his articles.
On the Importance of Health-Preserving Elixirs
This is a magnificent work that Ian wrote in his spare time, thanks to his exceptional business acumen.
These are promotional materials for his future plans to open a shop in Diagon Alley.
They just haven't found a suitable opportunity to spread it.
"I don't think this nonsense even qualifies as a work of literature." Grindelwald flipped through Ian's articles, his expression gradually becoming somewhat strange.
However, he did not refuse Ian's request.
"There are definitely wizards who believe it, and that's enough." Ian actually had another paper, "On the Influence of Traditional Potions on the Probability of Squirts," but he hadn't found the time to finish it yet.
"I'll help you with this; it's what I do—I like helping little wizards." Grindelwald took the parchment Ian offered without asking why.
"If you could also teach me the inscriptions on the Resurrection Stone, I think I'd be thanking you in my dreams." Ian quickly pulled out the runes he had peeled off the Resurrection Stone.
If there's anyone else he could communicate with about the Resurrection Stone, it would probably be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who led him to the Resurrection Stone and handed it over to him.
"Who helped you decipher these?" Grindelwald looked at the runes that Ian had drawn on more than a dozen parchments and couldn't help but look at the little wizard beside him with some surprise.
"Of course it's myself!" Ian answered confidently. Lady Ravenclaw had only pointed him in the direction of his research, and the crafting techniques he had learned from peeling off the Resurrection Stone were entirely his own hard work.
"Pfft, I told you not to use it, but instead you started researching its manufacturing process... I must say, it seems you have quite a talent for alchemy, but the thing you want to research is a bit too dangerous." Grindelwald gave Ian a deep look.
"I simply love learning. No alchemist can resist the temptation to analyze the Deathly Hallows." Of course, Ian couldn't tell Grindelwald his true intentions.
Grindelwald did not doubt his statement.
"Any outstanding achievement stems from extraordinary curiosity and perseverance." He clearly acknowledged Ian's boldness, but a regretful expression appeared on his face.
"I admire your thirst for knowledge, but I cannot offer you any assistance in this regard at the moment." A look of reminiscence crossed Grindelwald's face. "I, too, once attempted to study the extraordinary mysteries within the Deathly Hallows, and at that time I happened to possess another Deathly Hallow."
He was clearly referring to the Elder Wand.
Ian had seen it in Dumbledore's memories.
"So, you didn't find a way to research these runes either?" Ian already knew the result, but he still asked a question out of some unwillingness.
"That's right."
Grindelwald's nod was exactly what Ian expected; however, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor paused slightly after glancing down at the parchment in his hand.
"However, I can try to help you study it. To be honest, this is the first time I've ever seen such alchemical runes." Grindelwald's words were somewhat unexpected by Ian.
"Didn't you say you researched—another Deathly Hallow?"
Ian seemed a little stunned.
Could the crafting techniques used on the Elder Wand be another system altogether?
"Not everyone is as blessed and unique as you," Grindelwald said with a touch of emotion as he carefully tucked Ian's parchment into his robe.
The level of appreciation was completely different when it came to Ian's epic works.
"Your qualification to glimpse this mystery proves that my choice was indeed correct." Grindelwald seemed quite pleased, as if he had abandoned any thoughts of going back to sleep. While Ian was still pondering why the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and other wizards couldn't directly see the crafting techniques on the Resurrection Stone...
"Do you have time to hone your Fiery Fury?"
Grindelwald suddenly spoke to Ian in a lighthearted tone.
"It did perform well before, but—I think there are still some flaws that can be corrected." The sudden invitation to teach caught Ian off guard.
"Of course I have time!"
Ian abandoned his original plan without hesitation.
You can take a hot bath anytime.
Grindelwald personally instructed the Fiendish Curse; this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Just as Ian followed Grindelwald into the Room of Requirement.
On the other side of the eighth floor.
In the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, after seeing off Grindelwald and Filch, the administrator who had submitted the "punishment" application, the busy Dumbledore finally had time to sit down and have a cup of tea.
of course.
Even if the tea leaves remain unchanged, and more sugar is added to turn it into a drink used to obtain medication for diabetes, Dumbledore still wouldn't feel any joy when drinking it now.
"How could he not have taken it!"
obviously.
Albus Dumbledore was still preoccupied with what had disappeared. On the table in front of him lay a simple envelope, but inside, besides a letter, was nothing else.
There should have been a group photo inside.
"Didn't you really see what he took?" Dumbledore looked up at the portraits of the headmasters, all of whom shook their heads helplessly.
"You've asked us this question dozens of times already. We only saw the little wizard give him a little gadget, but we didn't see him take any photos from your precious envelope."
The principals' tones all carried a hint of impatience.
"He didn't take the photos, and you told me no one else had approached the place where I keep my mail—"
Perhaps you've been placed under some kind of spell without realizing it.
Dumbledore frowned, his expression turning serious.
"No one can cast a forgetting spell on a portrait, Dumbledore. That's not realistic. We're not real beings." One of the headmasters said with absolute certainty.
"Yes, unless someone can alter reality and change the fundamental rules of magic," Phineas Black's portrait mocked Dumbledore's senility with a laugh.
"You're right."
Just as Dumbledore couldn't sit still any longer and stood up to rummage through the office, there was a gentle knock on the headmaster's office door.
"Minerva, come in."
Dumbledore quickly tidied the bookshelves he had rummaged through, then composed himself, looking up at Professor McGonagall as she entered.
"I checked all the statues in the school, and none of them showed any signs of being awakened." Professor McGonagall's tired face showed a hint of worry.
The reason why she was in such a rush after class in the afternoon has been found.
"Perhaps it's a misfeedback from Hogwarts." Dumbledore sat back down in his chair.
The smile on his face showed no sign of worry.
His optimism made Professor McGonagall frown even more deeply.
"We all know that Hogwarts never makes mistakes, so someone must have used that spell last night." Professor McGonagall stared at the headmaster with extremely serious eyes.
"Even if Voldemort were to be resurrected, he would not be able to command the school's guards. That would require authorization, and currently only you and I, the two professors, possess that authorization."
Dumbledore responded with a smile, his deep eyes behind his glasses as calm as a still lake.
This caused Professor McGonagall to instinctively avoid eye contact with him.
"Yes, only the two of us have the authority. I'm sure I don't sleepwalk—so, who is it?" Professor McGonagall sighed heavily.
"According to the rules left by the school's founder, the guardians can only be used in times of crisis. I have always followed the rules, and to this day I have never used that magic!"
Her tone even carried a hint of resentment.
"It wasn't me. I'm not so senile that I can't remember what I've done." Dumbledore actually had a guess in his mind, but Professor McGonagall's angry glare made him shake his head.
Perhaps the current headmaster of Gryffindor is not as skilled in magic as him, but Dumbledore is still somewhat afraid of the older catgirl's potential nagging that might go on all night.
They were a few meters apart.
Dumbledore could sense Professor McGonagall's resentment. "So, don't you need to come with me to investigate what went wrong last night?"
"I'm really worried that someone has broken the magic left by the founder." Professor McGonagall wasn't sure whether she should believe Dumbledore, and she had also noticed that Dumbledore had been acting very strangely lately.
Faced with Professor McGonagall's suggestion.
Dumbledore simply continued to smile.
"We must believe in the magic left by the founder, and we must also believe that our founder is powerful enough. Perhaps last night the statues were just tired of staying in one place and wanted to move around."
He tried to gloss over the situation with a self-deprecatingly humorous remark.
"I'm not kidding you, Albus. If any dangerous person has infiltrated Hogwarts, we need to take responsibility for the safety of the students."
However, the older catgirl was extremely meticulous and persistent in checking for potential problems.
"Of course I understand that, so please believe me, Minerva, Hogwarts is definitely safer now than ever before."
Dumbledore responded with utmost seriousness, which finally put Professor McGonagall at ease.
"Something's wrong with Quirrell."
She explained the reason for her anxiety and caution. The mysterious man who couldn't be found in the Forbidden Forest yesterday, and the strange professor, would certainly give Professor McGonagall something to look for.
"Yes, I know that, and I expect you to pretend you know nothing, just like I do." Dumbledore nodded, making Professor McGonagall's eyes widen.
"So it really was him!"
Professor McGonagall was also in a state of uncertainty just now.
"It's already quite obvious, isn't it? I still need to know some things from him, so we can't alert him," Dumbledore reminded him calmly.
"Aren't you afraid that your negligence could harm the young wizards? That's—that's Mystic! Have you forgotten the killings he's committed, forgotten his madness?" Professor McGonagall frowned, her eyes filled with extreme displeasure as she looked at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore did not look away.
"Many eyes are on him, and he won't, and dares not, do anything that would truly anger me until his hopes are met or dashed."
The most powerful white wizard of this century spoke with absolute certainty.
"He's a madman—you expect a madman to have reason and judgment? Are you insane too?" Professor McGonagall's understanding of Voldemort was clearly inferior to Dumbledore's.
Dumbledore stood up and walked to the window. "He's mad, but not completely mad, so he knows what he can and cannot do."
"With not many cards left to play, I think he will still make himself that sophisticated and self-interested student—that smart guy who sees what Hogwarts means to me."
Dumbledore's tone carried a hint of something indescribable.
"You're gambling."
Professor McGonagall didn't know what Dumbledore was plotting, and she still didn't approve of Dumbledore's madness.
It just felt like Dumbledore was risking the lives of the young wizards.
"Perhaps—this is the best way I can think of." Dumbledore's voice carried a hint of helplessness; he could only resort to fishing to find the other Horcruxes.
to be frank.
This isn't really that much of an adventure.
"Nothing should affect innocent children, Dumbledore," Professor McGonagall sighed, reminding him that she knew she couldn't change the decision Dumbledore had already made.
"I am not a qualified headmaster, but I will ensure the safety of all young wizards." Dumbledore nodded in assurance, and Professor McGonagall shook her head and left the office after hesitating a few times.
The room fell silent again.
Dumbledore remained standing alone in front of the window.
Is it worth it?
He murmured softly.
It was as if he were asking about the portraits of the other headmasters in the room, or perhaps questioning himself. No headmaster responded, and soon, Dumbledore's gaze hardened as he raised his head again.
"This is not just about finding the other hidden Horcruxes, but also about finding a way to ensure the child's survival." Dumbledore's gaze drifted out the window.
Beside Black Lake.
They also have one child.
She was practicing some kind of spell that she had been failing at. Dumbledore had always known that Aurora often practiced magic by the Black Lake.
only.
This time, the exceptionally talented little witch has clearly encountered a setback.
"It seems you need some help—my apprentice."
Carried by the phoenix.
Dumbledore appeared behind Aurora.
Grindelwald's teachings are indeed invaluable.
Ian's mastery of the Fiendfyre spell increased almost like a rocket, and the teachings in "The Secrets of Black Magic" were clearly far inferior to Grindelwald's instruction in the Room of Requirement.
Several hours of practice.
Ian was already close to the level of awakening the extraordinary characteristics of the [Fiendish Curse]. If he hadn't been without sleep for two nights, he would have insisted on staying up all night to practice hard.
"Another day of getting stronger."
Ian fell into a satisfying sleep in the Room of Requirement. His sweet sleep made him feel refreshed the next day, and the level and proficiency of the Fiend Curse on his personal panel made him incredibly proud.
【Fiercefire Spell (Level 4) 728/800】
Just as Ian was eating breakfast, feeling incredibly powerful, an enraged Snape stormed into the Great Hall and slapped him on the back of the head in front of everyone.
"What have you done to the Hogwarts bathrooms?!"
The Slytherin Headmaster's voice was filled with barely suppressed annoyance.
"Waxing? Wasn't that what you asked for?" Ian scratched the back of his head and quickly stood up, distancing himself from Snapra, who seemed to be consumed by anger.
His defiant attitude made Snape lose his temper even more!
"I told you to wax the floor! Not the toilet!" Snape roared as he chased Ian all over the house, his robes and backside the same color as his hair.
It is shiny and oily.
"I've put in a lot of effort! If you don't believe me, go wash your face in the bathroom. I even waxed the faucet!" The nimble little wizard quickly shook off the giant bat.
Young people are fast runners.
The middle-aged, greasy professor simply can't keep up.
of course.
Ian did win the race against time, but in other areas, such as the potions class in the morning, he clearly no longer had the qualifications or the courage to study.
Forced to skip class, Ian plunged into the library, continuing his attempt to seek help from alchemy knowledge—which was, of course, deserted during class time.
Mrs. Pince didn't treat Ian with the same suspicion she had of other young wizards. She had been engrossed in Lockhart's work, and when she saw Ian enter the library, she merely glanced up before returning to her immersion in Lockhart's adventures. She neither reminded Ian nor asked him why he had skipped class.
This was probably just standard procedure for Ian in her eyes.
Ian, familiar with the area, went straight into the forbidden zone where other junior wizards were not allowed to set foot and began his research for the day. He made a breakthrough in this area through serious study.
Ancient Alchemy (Level 5) 1/1600
Reaching level five in skills means the awakening of extraordinary traits. However, the extraordinary trait called "Extra-Limit Alchemy" is clearly not enough for Ian to overcome the problem of the resurrection stone.
of course.
It's not that this extraordinary trait is useless; on the contrary, it's an incredible trait that allows Ian to create alchemical artifacts that break through the material limits in his alchemical practice.
It not only prevents Ian's alchemical creations from being replicated in the same way, but also allows him to use materials that would otherwise be unsuitable to create his own unique techniques.
"I've become stronger again, but now all I want is to get what I want." Dozens of books were piled up in front of Ian, used only to improve his alchemy proficiency.
Perhaps Grindelwald's remarks last night were not wrong. Even alchemists who had obtained the Deathly Hallows in history seemed unable to "see" the runic structures they saw within the Hallows.
Ian did find such an alchemist, but the alchemist only lamented that the Deathly Hallows were not creations of humans, and the rest of his writings explored the possibility of the existence of gods.
"Useless book! What use is it to me to read you!" Ian put the book with the mouth on the cover that could talk and boast back into the forbidden book section, along with all the books he had just browsed.
Although he complained that he had wasted his time being misled by some inexplicable book, he still did not throw it away carelessly, which was perhaps why Mrs. Pince trusted him so much.
School has been in session for quite some time now, and Mrs. Pince has long been familiar with the various new young wizards, knowing which ones she can trust a little and which ones she must keep a close eye on at all times.
"Are you searching for something you can't have now?"
suddenly.
Just as Ian was tiptoeing to pull out other books, a sudden, teasing voice sounded behind him.
Looking back, I saw Alchemy Professor Arthur King standing in front of the bookshelf.
Good morning, professor.
Ian grabbed the book he thought might be helpful, but he had no intention of consulting the elusive alchemy professor at Hogwarts.
Unlike Grindelwald.
Who knows if the other party might have any greedy thoughts about the Deathly Hallows?
"If it's a question about alchemy, I might have the time to give you some pointers." Alchemy Professor Arthur King's gaze fell on the book in Ian's hand.
The Rules of Life and Death: Exploring the Forbidden Path of Alchemy
Faced with the alchemy professor's initiative, Ian hesitated for only a moment before shaking his head and refusing, as he wasn't particularly familiar with the professor in front of him.
They didn't even have a real understanding of what kind of person the other party was.
"I'm just learning casually."
Ian held "The Rules of Life and Death: The Path to Forbidden Alchemy" close to his chest. The book couldn't speak, but it could run away. He had to hold it down tightly to prevent it from slipping from his grasp.
"What an unlikable kid. Aren't you afraid of regretting it later?"
Arthur King, clearly a proud professor, did not persist. He simply shrugged, responded softly, and then turned and left the bookshelves of the restricted section.
School starts!
Ian returned to his desk and began devouring the newly found book, but still found nothing. However, he did find many methods of bio-alchemy in the book "The Rules of Life and Death: Exploring the Forbidden Path of Alchemy." The book originated from an ancient alchemist who lost his beloved and then attempted to resurrect him through alchemy.
of course.
He ultimately failed to use his knowledge to win back his lover; he simply created a bunch of artificial catwomen with the personality and appearance of his lover.
In his later years, he died in a state of blissful oblivion, neglecting his wife.
"Wow, that's really scary. No wonder bio-alchemy is called taboo. It can turn a great alchemist into a Fury fanatic." Ian couldn't help but exclaim, and he had indeed learned a lot from this book.
My proficiency has improved significantly.
However, after reading so many books, he gradually realized that, whether in ancient or modern times, there were virtually no alchemists who wanted to explore the principles behind the creation of the Three Sacred Treasures of Death.
They might not be able to see the runes on it, but it's also possible that they simply aren't brave enough.
"Do I really need to perfectly copy it, or try it section by section?" Ian returned to the Room of Requirement after returning the book.
He took out his wand, ready to perfectly copy all the runes and further refine the resurrection stone template he had previously created. However, just as he took out his money pouch to take out the resurrection stone prototype...
"Um?"
A piece of paper was pulled out from the robe.
It drifted down to the ground.
Ian, who had instinctively bent down to pick it up, froze on the spot. He felt a chill run down his spine because he saw the characters on the note that he had been studying so intensely lately that he was almost obsessed with them.
Only one short section.
The characters seem to be flowing.
clear and distinct.