The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 541-550: The Prelude to Destruction 6

The atmosphere was somewhat restrained.

of course.

This only applies to Dumbledore.

Actually, Grindelwald seemed quite relaxed.

Seeing the old headmaster speak, Ian, who had been putting on an act, shifted his gaze from Grindelwald to Dumbledore. He didn't seem surprised by Dumbledore's question. He put down his fries, wiped his hands with a cheap tissue, and remained composed. "Ian," he said clearly, a name he'd picked up at Downton Abbey, pausing before adding his surname, "Ian Prince." It must be said, Ian's demeanor did indeed possess a certain aristocratic air.

Watching TV dramas isn't a waste of time.

Unfortunately, this era still used black and white television, and not many classic TV series emerged, so no one could expose Ian's "mimicry" behavior.

Of course, Dumbledore didn't care about such things.

He immediately reacted after hearing Ian's self-introduction.

Prince?

Dumbledore's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. The surname wasn't particularly rare in the magical world, but in this context, it instantly stirred up some memories in his mind—an ancient family with a long history and outstanding talent in the field of potions, but whose members had become few and far between in recent times, almost living in seclusion.

Most importantly, among the current students at Hogwarts is a descendant of this family, Severus Snape, whose mother's surname is Prince!

Could it be... that this young man with terrifying strength, who resembles a raven, is actually related to that reclusive, gloomy, and complicated potion master by blood?

Or is this just a coincidence, or... a pseudonym used casually?

Countless questions flooded Dumbledore's mind. He stared intently at Ian's face, trying to find a resemblance in that young, calm face to Snape or any known member of the Prince family, or any trace of a lie. But he found nothing. Ian's expression was too calm, his eyes too deep, as if the name "Prince" was merely a simple identifier to him, devoid of any additional emotion or meaning.

"Oh?" Grindelwald raised an eyebrow at the surname "Prince," clearly aware of the family. His interest deepened in his heterochromatic eyes.

The appearance of this surname seems to add another interesting dimension to the mystery before us.

After giving a brief self-introduction, Ian seemed unconcerned about Dumbledore's inner turmoil and Grindelwald's keen interest. His attention seemed to have returned to Grindelwald. He looked at Grindelwald and spoke again, this time with a hint of inquiry in his tone:

"So, Mr. Grindelwald, you went to all this trouble to come out here, even using...some special methods, to find me. You didn't just come here at the night market to discuss parole terms or family lineage, did you?" His question was direct and sharp, bringing the conversation back to the core of Grindelwald and the possible intentions behind him.

The hustle and bustle of the night market remained, the sizzling of pancakes and the shouts of distant vendors creating an eerie background noise. Dim light cast flickering shadows on three calm, yet thoughtfully occupied, noodle tables. Beside a simple plastic table sat the most renowned white wizard in the magical world, the Dark Lord who had once stirred up storms in Europe.

And the mysterious "Raven" boy, in an inconspicuous corner of a London night market, thus completed their first formal face-to-face contact.

Beneath the surface of the mundane conversation and the aroma of fries, a subtle tension was brewing.

Just as a strange meeting spanning eras and secrets quietly unfolded in a corner of a London night market.

The Death Eaters' underground lair, located on the other side of London.

The atmosphere, however, presented a completely different and unsettling "peaceful" feeling.

Voldemort's figure reappeared on the stone throne in the core hall of the lair, accompanied by a slight spatial distortion.

He looked exactly the same as when he left, still wearing a simple black robe, with a pale, snake-like face and narrow, scarlet eyes. However, if a perceptive wizard were present, they could vaguely sense that the magical energy emanating from him was more solid, more obscure, and contained something indescribable.

It was a chaotic quality that seemed to distort light and perception. It was a sign of someone just entering the legendary realm, whose power was not yet fully stable, but whose essence had already undergone a leap.

More importantly, it was his expression.

Even in his calm moments, Voldemort was usually like a coiled serpent, radiating a cold, violent, and suffocating pressure. But now, leaning against the stone seat, his fingers unconsciously toying with his yew wand, his scarlet eyes, though still cold, lacked their usual sinister ruthlessness and rage.

Yes, compared to before, he now possessed a strange, almost pleasurable, profound light, as if savoring some wonderful taste, or perhaps glimpsing an incredibly bright future.

This unusual situation sent alarm bells ringing in the hearts of the core Death Eaters standing below—Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch Jr., Yaxley, and Bellatrix Lestrange, who had just been urgently summoned back—yet they dared not show it in the slightest. They could only lower their heads even further, their hearts filled with extreme unease and confusion.

Master... what's wrong with you today? Instead of being furious about Raul's failure and the appearance of that mysterious "raven," you seem to be in a good mood?

This was even more terrifying than their master directly inflicting punishment! Something unusual must be going on. Around the Dark Lord, any "abnormality" could mean unpredictable danger.

"Axley." Voldemort spoke, his voice still that soft hiss, but his tone seemed... rather peaceful? "Yes, Master!" Axley immediately stepped forward, bowed, and replied, his heart pounding in his throat.

"How's the investigation going regarding that... young wizard who interfered with Roll's mission?" Voldemort asked, his crimson eyes sweeping indifferently over Axley.

A cold sweat broke out on Yaxley's back. The investigation had only just begun; what substantial progress could there be? He forced a smile and replied, "Reporting to Master, I have already used our undercover agents in the Ministry of Magic, Diagon Alley, and several grey intelligence networks, but so far, we have not found any record of an unfamiliar wizard who matches Raoul's description—so young and possessing such extraordinary power."

"This person seems to have appeared out of thin air, or perhaps... he used a clever disguise. My subordinates have increased manpower, expanded the search area, and begun to investigate all recent entry records and reports of abnormal magical fluctuations." He was prepared to endure the Cruciatus Curse or at least a severe reprimand.

However, things didn't go as planned? No, they were unexpected.

"Um."

Voldemort simply responded with a soft "No rush." ​​His fingers traced the surface of his wand. "Such a person, if deliberately concealed, won't be easy to find. Continue the investigation, but be even more discreet, and don't alert them."

His tone could even be described as "tolerant"!

"what?"

Yaxley froze, almost thinking he'd misheard. Lucius, Barty Jr., and Bellatrix also exchanged incredulous glances.

"Yes...yes! Master!" Yaxley hurriedly replied, but felt even more uneasy.

"Lucius." Voldemort's gaze turned to the head of the Malfoy family.

Lucius tensed up and bowed slightly with elegance: "Master, what are your orders?"

"How's the investigation into the recent 'accidents' at the Ministry of Magic going? Have our dear Minister Fudge and the Aurors put any pressure on you?" Voldemort asked, referring to the Death Eaters' attacks, his tone even carrying a hint of...teasing? Lucius cautiously replied, "Pressure is certainly there, Master. Minister Fudge is eager to prove the Ministry's control, and the Auror office is working overtime. However, our people have handled it cleanly, leaving no direct evidence pointing to us. Moreover, through some...political maneuvering and public opinion guidance, the focus has been partially shifted to 'internal factional struggles' and 'out-of-control smuggling of dark magic items.' In the short term, it shouldn't pose a substantial threat to our core plans." He spoke while carefully observing Voldemort's reaction.

"Well done."

Voldemort nodded, and there seemed to be a faint smile of approval on the pale snake's face.

"Maintain the status quo, but if necessary, create some minor distractions for them. The more chaotic the Ministry of Magic becomes, the better for us."

He spoke slowly.

"As you command, my master."

Lucius immediately bowed his head in response, but the doubts in his heart grew heavier. His master actually praised someone today? And even used a phrase like "well done"? This was more terrifying than seeing the sun rise in the west!

Voldemort then inquired about Barty Crouch Jr.'s progress on several secret research projects, as well as Bellatrix's investigations into some "potential allies" or "resource points" overseas.

His questions were still sharp and to the point, but his tone no longer carried the usual pressure and volatile anger. Instead, it sounded like... a superior patiently listening to a report?

Although Barty Crouch Jr. was fanatical, he also sensed something was amiss, and responded with even more fervent loyalty, trying to mask his inner suspicion with his fanaticism.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, was purely confused and uneasy. She was more used to her master’s direct commands and punishments, and this “peace” made her feel out of place.

After asking around, Voldemort seemed to be "satisfied" with the progress in all aspects.

He leaned back on the stone seat, his scarlet eyes sweeping over the silent servants below. Suddenly, he chuckled softly, a sound that seemed particularly abrupt and eerie in the quiet hall.

"I know you must be wondering why I seem to be in such a good mood today," Voldemort said slowly, his voice carrying a strange, almost secret-sharing quality.

Everyone felt a chill run down their spines, lowered their heads even further, and repeatedly said, "We dare not."

"Because I see a clearer future."

Voldemort's voice grew distant, his crimson eyes gazing at the dark dome of the hall, as if piercing through the rock to see the starry sky. "Minor setbacks, insignificant variables, are but dust before true power. Our cause, our ideal of reshaping the world, is entering a... entirely new phase."

He withdrew his gaze and looked again at his servants, his eyes filled with an unprecedented, almost inflated confidence: "Soon, you will understand. No, it should be very soon, everyone will understand. Power... true, transcendent power, is opening its doors to me." "And you, my most loyal servants, will follow me, share this glory, and establish an unprecedented... new order." He made this promise without hesitation.

Voldemort's rise to power, resembling a complete Kakashi meta, is truly difficult to adapt to.

His words were incredibly seductive; normally, the Death Eaters would have been ecstatic, shouting "Long live!" But today, combined with their master's unusually "friendly" attitude, his words carried a chilling, ominous feeling. Glory? A new order? What had their master gone through? What "power" had he gained? What about the threat of the "Raven"? Had it been so casually dismissed?

Everyone was confused, but no one dared to question or ask further questions.

They could only shout in unison, "We are willing to follow our master! We would die a thousand deaths!"

The sound echoed in the hall, but it seemed to have lost some of its former fervor and gained a sense of inexplicable bewilderment.

Voldemort seemed unconcerned by their inner turmoil. He waved his hand and said, "Get out of here. Do your jobs. I need... some time alone."

"Yes, Master!" The group, relieved, bowed and hastily withdrew from the hall, their steps quickening. The heavy doors closed behind them, once again isolating the figure on the throne in silence and darkness. Lucius, Yaxley, Barty Jr., and Bellatrix stood in the corridor outside. The Death Eaters exchanged bewildered glances, none of them speaking for a moment.

Several seconds passed before Yaxley wiped away non-existent cold sweat from his forehead, lowered his voice, and asked incredulously, "What...what's wrong with Master today?"

"I don't know." Lucius's voice was also low, his brow furrowed. "But it's definitely not normal. Master has never... been so 'peaceful' before. And those words he spoke... 'a completely new phase,' 'power beyond everything'... I feel a chill down my spine."

Barty Crouch Jr. licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with fanatical fire: "Whatever power our master has gained, it must be incredibly great! We should be happy for our master!"

Bellatrix, however, irritably tugged at his curly black hair and hissed, "Happy? I just want my master to order me around like before! To punish me! Not like this... this unpredictability!"

She was clearly extremely uneasy about this inability to understand her master's thoughts.

"Alright, that's enough." Lucius stopped their discussion, glancing warily around. "The master's will is unpredictable; we must simply obey. Do your job, don't ask questions, and don't overthink." Though he said this, the worry in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest.

Filled with confusion and unease, the four dispersed to continue their dark duties. However, Voldemort's unusual "friendliness" and his seductive yet unsettling words today stirred ripples in their hearts like a stone thrown into a stagnant pond.