Hogwarts: My Yorozuya has no taboos!

Chapter 20 Yes, I am indeed very noble!

Dumbledore made his way through the crowded carriages to the back of the train, where he met Ares Delphinore.

Ares was curled up in his seat, using a dragon-skin suitcase as a pillow. His face was pale, and the exhaustion in his eyes was genuine.

"You've arrived, Professor Dumbledore."

Ares gasped for breath and made a move to get up.

"Oh, lean against me like this, Ares—"

Dumbledore stopped Ares from acting. He stepped into the carriage, a fleeting, insightful glint in his deep blue eyes before softening.

"I can't express my gratitude to you in words, and I've never been so glad I made this decision, Ares. You know, I meant inviting you back to Hogwarts."

"You flatter me, Professor—"

Ares was still panting.

"I was just doing my job."

"Yeah yeah-"

Dumbledore removed his half-moon glasses, wiped his dry eyes, and sniffed with emotion.

"It's incredibly moving—although I didn't witness that horrific scene firsthand, I believe you must have done everything in your power... risking your life to stop the train from going out of control?"

"Oh, that's exactly what I did."

Ares's humility

"I have to do this, don't I...?"

I cannot stand by and watch so many children, as bright as the rising sun, lose their lives before my very eyes. I must save them, even if it costs me my own!

"So touching!"

Dumbledore looked at Ares, who was so weak he was about to faint, and emphasized it again.

"I'm sure you're eager to know what happened back then?"

"Oh, that happened later, Ares—"

Dumbledore gave a slight smile.

"The most important thing right now is to make sure you're healthy. Go to Hogwarts; I'm sure you'll get plenty of rest there—after that, you'll have to face the reality of your impending rise to fame, Ares. If the Ministry of Magic doesn't award you the Order of Merlin for what happened today, it will certainly cause public outrage."

"You know I've never cared about empty fame."

"Yes, I can tell."

"We could exchange the Order of Merlin for gold, if the ministry really wants to commend us—"

"I will take care of it, Ares."

"Oh—the Ministry of Magic fined me 300 Galleons a while ago, Professor Dumbledore, if possible—"

Dumbledore's lips twitched a few times.

"I will apply to the school board to give you an extra 300 gallons a month, Ares."

"Well then... let's get in the carriage. Can you walk by yourself? — Oh, let me use magic to help you."

Dumbledore said that he waved his wand and made Ares float.

"Oh, wait a minute, Professor Dumbledore—"

Just as he stepped out of the private room, Ares seemed to remember something and turned back to look at the dragon-skin trunk on his seat, extending a trembling finger.

"That... all my savings!"

Dumbledore's gaze followed to the dragon-skin trunk against the carriage wall, and his silver-white eyebrows and mustache twitched almost imperceptibly.

"Don't worry, Ares, the house-elf will safely bring your belongings to school."

"Phew... No, Professor Dumbledore—"

Ares stuck to his opinion.

"That box... to ensure its safety, I put a spell on it—it can't be moved by magic or folded by space; it can only be carried by hand."

Dumbledore had no choice but to go over and lift the box... once, twice... but he couldn't budge it!

"The speed at which you accumulate wealth is truly astonishing, Ares."

"Oh, it's nothing, just that hard work leads to wealth."

"It can at least be lightened with magic, Ares. I imagine this box weighs at least several hundred pounds?"

"Seven hundred pounds."

Ares said,

"Yes, that will help reduce weight... Thank you—oh, you look like you need to work out more, Professor."

As a hero, Ares deserves higher treatment.

He didn't need to squeeze into a carriage with everyone else; a separate carriage had been prepared just for him.

The Thestrals, the magical creatures pulling the chariot, seemed to be thanking Ares for his bravery. As they passed by, one of them lowered its menacing head and affectionately touched Ares's cheek.

"Well then, see you at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore stood beneath the carriage, smiling and waving to Ares, who was being examined by two healers inside.

The Thestrals flapped their bat-like wings, and amidst the surging winds, the enormous carriage soared into the air.

Dumbledore watched the carriage disappear into the darkness, and then the gentle smile on his face vanished.

A commotion broke out ahead of the train. While the therapist was helping Marcus Flint off the train, he accidentally bumped Marcus's broken leg against the door frame, and Marcus was cursing loudly.

Dumbledore, who appeared even older than usual in the torchlight, did not move to check on Flint's injuries. He simply stood below the carriage, his brow furrowed, staring at the Hogwarts Express's battered and ravaged appearance.

After a while, he moved.

Dumbledore boarded the train again and returned to the compartment where Ares had just been.

He stood at the door of the private room, surveying everything inside, his azure eyes seemingly brimming with starlight.

"Is something wrong?"

Severus Snape approached silently. The other wounded had already been evacuated, so Snape thought it was time to make things clear.

His empty eyes flickered with suspicion as he scanned every wrinkle on Dumbledore's face.

"Could this be a simple accident, Dumbledore—or something else?"

"It's too early to draw a conclusion, Severus—"

Dumbledore said calmly,

"But there are indeed some illogical things... Did you notice, Severus, that even with the train out of control like that, everything in this compartment is normal, not even a crack in the glass window."

Did Ares use magic to protect his box?

It doesn't look like it... There wasn't a trace of magic present. All traces of magic, including the train's own defensive spells, had been... dissolved. Yes, dissolved... But I don't believe Ares could have done something so clean.

At the end of his words, Dumbledore's voice became a murmur, as if he were talking to himself.

After a moment of contemplation, Dumbledore stopped thinking.

He walked into the private room and picked up a glass from the table, his movements natural, as if he had planned to do so long ago.

The cup had clearly been filled with something; the sides were blurry, and a layer of light red condensation floated on them.

Dumbledore sniffed the cup himself, and then handed it to Severus.

"Can you tell what this is, Severus? I think it should be a piece of cake for you."

After all, you taught him Potions.

"What is certain is that the ingredients contain dragon's blood—"

Severus also passed the cup under his nose, a serious look flashing in his eyes.

"As for the rest..."

Severus glanced sideways at Dumbledore, meeting his concerned gaze, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"As you just said—it's impossible to draw a conclusion at this time."

"Then I'll have to trouble you, Severus—"

Dumbledore ignored Severus's mockery and said calmly and firmly,

"Find out its ingredients and effects, Severus... I think that's important for understanding our new colleague."

There were no more valuable clues in the private room. After giving his instructions, Dumbledore turned and left the room, getting out of the car with nimble steps.

Instead of going to the front of the train to check on the last of the seriously injured students who were being evacuated, he strode along the tracks in the direction from which Hogwarts had come.

Where are you planning to go?

Severus caught up with him, staring at his retreating figure.

"Look ahead, Severus."

Dumbledore's soft reply vanished in an instant on the wind.