dmims Chapter 103, Section 102: The Letter! A Halloween Invitation!
Chapter 103, Section 102: The Letter! A Halloween Invitation!
Chapter 103, Section 102: The Letter! A Halloween Invitation!
Peek through the crack in the door.
Even in a brightly lit room, the golden cup in Dumbledore's hand was still dazzling, carrying an aura of a masterpiece that only alchemists could sense.
"Hufflepuff's Golden Cup!"
Ian recognized the object in Dumbledore's hand almost instantly. It was an alchemical creation of Helga Hufflepuff, one of the legacies of the four great masters of Hogwarts. Like the sword of Gryffindor, the tiara of Ravenclaw, and the locket of Slytherin, the Hufflepuff Cup was a masterpiece of alchemy.
While they may not reach the heights of the Philosopher's Stone created by Nicolas Flamel, the relics of the four great masters, possessing extraordinary significance, also possess extremely powerful magical energy.
Wizards who can reach their level are all-rounders. The materials used to create treasures may come from fairies, but most of the magic contained within them must come from the four great wizards themselves.
Aside from the Slytherin locket, whose purpose is unknown to everyone, Ian knows about the other three relics of the four great masters—Gryffindor's sword has dust-repelling properties, repelling dust, and it becomes stronger with each battle it participates in, able to absorb and enhance its own magic.
Ravenclaw's crown can enhance the wearer's wisdom, but based on his brief conversation with Lady Ravenclaw and analysis of reality, Ian felt that it was roughly equivalent to an alchemical version of Felix Felicis, or perhaps it could also exert some effects like the Golden Apple, such as "enlightenment of wisdom"?
Compared to the belongings of these two founders, Helga Hufflepuff's belongings were rather Zen-like.
Just like Helga Hufflepuff herself, it has no competitive spirit and does not possess any ability to teach or fight. However, it is the perfect companion for home and travel.
It contains magic that can almost freeze time, ensuring that food placed inside will not spoil. It also has an enormous amount of storage space to hold a lot of food. It's clear from the Hufflepuff's Golden House that Helga Hufflepuff is very good at using space expansion spells.
Ian even knew that Hufflepuff's golden cup could turn water into wine. During his time in the library, he would sometimes browse through history and materials about ancient wizards, especially anything related to Hogwarts, something he had been quite interested in ever since meeting Lady Ravenclaw.
of course.
even so.
Ian also found no secrets about the Slytherin locket, and there were no documents mentioning it. Perhaps he would only have a chance to get his hands on it after Sirius was released.
Unfortunately, Salazar Slytherin was the only one of the four great leaders to have run away from home and become a rebellious figure. No one even knew where he went after leaving Hogwarts.
Ian had read about the legend of Salazar Slytherin in an unofficial history book. It was said that over a hundred years ago, someone in Africa had seen someone resembling Salazar Slytherin. The historian was an adventurer who claimed that Slytherin seemed to be searching for something in Africa.
Because he had seen many portraits of Slytherin at home, the adventurer was able to recognize the giant. He even wrote in his book that he had eaten some game with Salazar Slytherin.
The account is detailed, yet incredibly fantastical. In an era when the Apple of God was extinct, how could Salazar Slytherin possibly have survived to the modern age, hundreds of years later, unless he could create the Philosopher's Stone? The adventurer's words are clearly unreliable; the tone of his book isn't significantly different from "The Magician."
The entire piece is filled with self-praise and exaggerated descriptions of various experiences. If the reincarnation that Morgan talks about really exists, then it might be Gilderoy Lockhart's deleted account from his previous life.
This was Ian's only thought after reading "Witnessing a Legend." Of course, he didn't care about Slytherin; he only cared about the relics left behind by the four leaders.
"It's a pity that three of the Four Great Masters' relics were defiled by Tom the Noseless. I have to protect my Gryffindor sword; I can't let it get defiled by Tom the Noseless too." Ian hid by the door.
He peeked from behind the seam for a long time, but Dumbledore, the master of Legilimency, didn't notice anything at all.
He was so focused on the golden cup in his hand—perhaps he was using his mind to probe the broken soul residing within—that even the most absorbed Dumbledore wasn't as perceptive as his bird.
"Clang clang~"
Phoenix Fox was preening its newly grown fur on a golden branch when Ian, who was spying on it, accidentally bumped its head against the door. It immediately flew towards Ian.
The pointed tip was flattened.
As always, the phoenix built its nest on Ian's head—Ian was used to it; he even touched the phoenix on his head and then happily put his hand under the phoenix's rear end. Fox, though feeling a little uncomfortable, still didn't choose to leave Ian's head.
"It's so warm! It's the warmth of a phoenix!" Ian immediately pulled out his palm-sized money pouch excitedly.
He took out a phoenix egg with striking red patterns that looked quite appealing.
He shoved it directly onto Ian's head with lightning speed. Somewhat stunned, Phoenix Fox, who immediately felt incredibly uncomfortable under his butt, wanted to flap its wings and leave Ian's head.
"This is the nesting fee! You have to incubate the eggs for me!" Ian anticipated Phoenix Fawkes's reaction and grabbed him, preventing him from escaping his clutches.
"Clang clang~"
It sounds like someone is swearing.
And it was the kind of insult that was really harsh. It was probably the interaction between Ian and Fawkes the Phoenix that disturbed Dumbledore, who finally looked up, his eyes still fixed on the golden cup.
A fleeting glint of light flashed in his eyes, imposing and powerful. Though it vanished in an instant, it still sent a chill down Ian's spine. Of course, through his abilities of [Soul Stealing] and [Mind Perception], Ian knew that he was clearly not the one most afraid of Dumbledore present.
The wisp of will within the Hufflepuff Cup was trembling with fear, wondering what Dumbledore had done to the remnant soul within the cup just moments before.
Good evening, Ian.
Dumbledore put down his golden cup and smiled kindly at Ian, "Tonight is going to be a lively night. I never expected you to choose to visit me."
He took off his glasses and began wiping them with a handkerchief.
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. Has Professor Snape gone astray? He hasn't taught us for days. I think you should do something about this Hogwarts paycheck thief. Not only is my uncle irresponsible, but he even made me miss a Defense Against the Dark Arts class this afternoon."
Ian immediately started complaining.
He was clearly still somewhat bothered by his disappointment that afternoon.
"I heard from Severus that you secretly concocted a lot of owl laxatives in the Potions classroom. I don't think our Potions teacher could be that bad." Dumbledore put his glasses back on his face, his tone full of teasing banter, which instantly froze Ian's indignant expression.
"Clang clang~ Clang clang~"
Fawkes on his head barked a few more times at his master, his voice full of resentment, as if he felt that Dumbledore's evaluation of Ian was too conservative.
"He's slandering me!"
Under Dumbledore's deep gaze, Ian looked away somewhat embarrassed. "Actually, I only prepared a little bit, just enough for the Slytherin students' owls to eat at most."
"It's a pity I came in such a hurry to find you that I missed the scene of birds raining down from the sky, but Senior Penelope promised to take a picture for me." His tone was tinged with regret.
"A long-planned prank, I think it's because you haven't received compensation for those children yet?" Dumbledore bringing this up was really unexpected for Ian.
"Have you already tried to get compensation for me? They definitely don't want to pay! I haven't even received a single Galleon!" Ian's voice carried a hint of resentment.
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "I mailed them a letter. They may not have paid much attention to it before, but you will surely receive the compensation you want soon after tonight."
171
His words startled Ian slightly.
The young wizard's gaze couldn't help but fall on Hufflepuff's golden cup again.
"Is it because of this?"
Ian walked thoughtfully to the opposite side of the desk. The Hufflepuff's golden cup sat on the table, its body meticulously crafted from pure gold, gleaming with a warm and soft golden light. Its surface was engraved with intricate and delicate patterns: entwined vines, blooming flowers, and grains symbolizing harvest and abundance.
As Ian gazed at the golden cup.
He could almost feel the warmth flowing from the cup, a kind of magic that could smooth out the wrinkles in his heart, but it was mixed with a lot of disharmonious negative emotions.
It is a desecration and defilement from the noseless monster.
Yes, that's right.
Dumbledore nodded.
"I visited Riddle's past in Azkaban. The woman was still loyal to Riddle, but in the end, I got the answer I wanted."
"That answer led me to this thing—in Gringotts." Dumbledore's casual description caused Ian's eyelids and face to twitch involuntarily. He thought of the breaking news tonight, and combined with what Dumbledore was saying, the truth of the evening's news was self-evident.
"By Merlin, it turns out you broke into Gringotts and, surrounded by goblins and wizards, brazenly stole important items from someone's vault!" This wasn't Ian praising Dumbledore; it was the breaking news report that had been circulating that evening.
Although Ian didn't pay much attention to the matter, he still glanced at the newspaper when William picked it up. It contained photos of a group of goblins and wizards running away in panic.
"No one will say it was me. I did some disguises with my consent, so—"
Dumbledore winked at Ian. "It was Grindelwald's saints who broke into Gringotts. There were many witnesses. Didn't you see the picture in the newspaper?"
His words left Ian speechless.
"What does this have to do with my compensation? Is it because the Saints have become active again, so as Aurora's good friend, I should be valued by them?"
Ian felt he couldn't be impolite enough to comment on his principal's actions.
"In fact, the Saints don't pose much of a threat to us." Dumbledore chuckled, his tone tinged with regret. "It's just that the pure-blood families aren't stupid, and my actions aren't exactly clean either, since I don't really have much experience in this area."
"They will find out the truth, perhaps they already have. Believe me, Ian, they will reassess the impact of the letters I sent them." Dumbledore's words were quite intriguing, and Ian saw a great deal of confidence on the headmaster's face.
"Aren't you afraid they'll report you to the Ministry of Magic?"
Ian asked curiously.
Under the candlelight, Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his face closer to the light, and his smile, though not gone, became even more intriguing.
I don't think so. They're very good at assessing situations—in fact, after I took the chalice I wanted from Gringotts and the Aurors, even if I came forward and confessed to the Ministry of Magic that it was my doing, the Ministry would claim that someone had implanted a false memory in me.
"All the Aurors present, including the goblins, will serve as witnesses before the trial, proving to the Ministry of Magic that the people they encountered were merely followers of the evil dark wizard Grindelwald."
"To be honest, I would be happy for them if they dared to stand up and challenge me." Dumbledore's soft voice struck Ian as incredible.
This is actually something Dumbledore said!
Where's Dumbledore, the supposedly easy target?
"Hiss, are you teaching me that having power means I can do whatever I want?" Ian wanted to pinch Dumbledore's cheek, suspecting that a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was playing a prank.
"I thought you'd be more concerned about the compensation the pure-blood family offered you," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Ian, I'm just telling you that the world isn't black and white."
"This is the most important thing you need to understand, since you've been living in a greenhouse. Even your principal, the hero who's been praised, can do unscrupulous things for various reasons."
It's hard to imagine that Dumbledore could calmly make such an assessment of himself.
"I think I learned about these things a little too early."
Ian quickly changed the subject.
"Who can argue with that?"
Dumbledore nodded noncommittally.
He noticed that Ian's gaze would occasionally drift to Hufflepuff's golden cup.
"You recognize this thing, right?"
Dumbledore pushed Hufflepuff's golden cup forward, and Ian, who had been eager to try it out, immediately picked it up with both hands. The profound alchemical inscriptions on it confirmed his guess—it really was a treasure that could buy 1982 Lafite in bulk! This thing could even adjust the taste of red wine!
"It should belong to the Hufflepuff ancestors." Ian was filled with doubt and astonishment; he really wanted to know why this thing was now in Dumbledore's hands.
and.
Wasn't this thing supposed to be under a Splitting Curse and a Fire Curse? Ian patted it, but didn't find that the golden cup would split. Looking into the rim of the cup, he could only see a hollow darkness, with Riddle's shattered soul still trembling inside—Ian's subconscious act of curiosity made Dumbledore's eyes flicker slightly.
"I have removed some of the curses from above."
Dumbledore gave Ian a meaningful look, then suddenly laughed. "There's only one of my students inside right now, the famous and mysterious figure in the wizarding world."
Unlike his approach with Harry Potter, he didn't try to conceal what he knew; instead, he bluntly told Ian that it was a Horcrux from Voldemort.
"I can't see him, but I can sense a dying soul. He seems terrified by you. So that guy is Voldemort's soul?"
"How did he get in here?" Ian asked, feigning curiosity as he vigorously shook Hufflepuff's golden cup like he was shaking a can of soda.
Tom Riddle's remnant spirit glared at him fiercely from inside.
"I thought you had already learned about Horcruxes, since the content related to Fiendfire comes after the explanation of Horcruxes." Dumbledore's sudden and surprising words made Ian's swaying motion come to an abrupt halt.
Ian was truly unprepared for this situation. He forced a smile and said, "Did Aurora's grandfather tell you? He actually knew that Aurora gave me that book?"
Ian clearly knew that playing dumb was pointless. He wasn't too nervous, after all, the source of "The Secrets of Cutting-Edge Black Magic" was a genuine Hogwarts professor!
Stealing black magic?
He'd clearly just taken a quick lesson from the professor! If Dumbledore could hire Grindelwald as a professor, why couldn't Ian critically study cutting-edge dark magic under the guidance of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Dumbledore couldn't be a hypocrite, otherwise he'd have Ariana settle things for him!
Thinking about this, Ian remembered why he had come to the headmaster's office to see Dumbledore; he had been primarily drawn to Hufflepuff's golden cup from the start.
Ian was about to take out a letter to gag himself.
Surprisingly, Dumbledore didn't seem to care much that he had studied "The Secrets of Advanced Black Magic".
"It seems you've had a deep conversation with our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but clearly you still don't know much about Miss Grindelwald's grandfather."
He always hides many secrets, things he doesn't want to talk about, and even when he tells the truth, you have to be careful that he's not hiding other information.
Dumbledore didn't hold back in criticizing his old friend, and after Ian's expression became somewhat unnatural, he then explained how he knew Ian possessed the book.
"Your Fiendfire bears traces of his modifications, and that book was originally a gift I gave him; I just didn't expect him to pass it on to you through Miss Grindelwald."
Dumbledore's words startled Ian slightly.
transfer?
That clearly seemed to be Aurora's own decision, so is this the power of a prophet? - But how could Dumbledore be so certain about Grindelwald's actions?
Understanding comes from close male friends?
Ian pondered.
Dumbledore asked again, "What do you know about Horcruxes?"
It is clear.
We've come back to the topic we were just discussing.
"To be honest, I don't know much about it, and I don't really want to look at that part, because I think splitting one's soul is incredibly stupid, both in life and after death. Besides, you reminded me when I started school that one of your students lost the possibility of further progress because of stupidity." Ian gave an honest answer, as if he had always been dealing with these cunning and difficult-to-fool monsters.
"I'm glad you remember what I said and took it as a lesson. Yes, you're right, a wise person would not choose such a terrible path of self-destruction. Exceptional wisdom is the greatest treasure of mankind, and I think I'm gradually coming to understand that the Sorting Hat's judgment of you was indeed correct."
Dumbledore didn't hold back in praising Ian, and even laughed heartily at Ian's excellent memory.
"We have to save Hufflepuff's treasure!" Ian tried to emulate Lady Ravenclaw's actions, only to find that his hands couldn't reach the soul within the golden cup.
He didn't want to drink red wine with Tom's scent on it, so he tried several times, but still failed. It was clear that Mrs. Ravenclaw's technique was difficult to imitate.
Perhaps his understanding of the soul was still insufficient? Somewhat unconvinced, Ian began to shake the golden cup vigorously again, trying to shake out the dizzy, dazed remnant soul inside—Fox, as expected of a magical creature, remained as steady as ever, perched on Ian's frantically moving head, incubating his egg.
"You're just torturing it by doing this; you're not getting it out of there—you're different from us, Ian, because you can do that."
Dumbledore watched as Ian shook the golden cup even more violently upon hearing the word "torture," his eyes filled with an indescribable astonishment.
obviously.
Not just anyone can achieve such an effect by shaking the golden cup. In fact, most wizards can't even sense the remnant souls inside, let alone exert any influence on them.
"Whoosh whoosh whoosh~!"
Ian, who was finally unable to shake it any longer, stopped his frantic movements. He looked into the golden cup again, where the remnant soul seemed to be frantically spitting out saliva.
Just as Dumbledore said, it was impossible to shake out Voldemort's remnant soul—it was like a bone maggot, already fused with Hufflepuff's golden cup.
"I have a teacher who might be able to help us, but I need to take the Golden Cup back temporarily." Heaven knows, Ian really just wanted to take Voldemort on another voyage, and definitely didn't want to keep this treasure from Hufflepuff. At most, he would only return this house property after he was sworn in as the Grand President of Hogwarts.
"Destroying the remnant soul within this treasure while protecting it is possible. I know some friends who can help me. The remnant soul sealed within is not a difficult thing." Dumbledore looked at the golden cup in Ian's hand, not agreeing with Ian's slightly veiled hint.
"Alright."
Ian returned the golden cup to the table with some regret. He felt he couldn't keep holding it, or he might suddenly grab it and run away during a normal conversation without saying a word. Perhaps it was out of greed, but Ian would definitely blame it on the mental influence of Voldemort's remnant soul.
"Remember to bring it back to the kitchen fairies after you destroy the evil spirits inside. I remember this used to be the container for the fairies to put things in." Ian decided to take a roundabout approach, thinking that if the fairies obtained the Golden Cup, it would be equivalent to him having unlimited access to it.
After all, he has a really good relationship with the fairies.
"The contents inside aren't too difficult to deal with. The most troublesome thing is that there's more than one of these things, and I don't want that person to realize that I've discovered his secret."
"He'll get away, but I need to nip it in the bud." Dumbledore's expression was very serious, and his tone carried a calm ruthlessness.
This is a very rare feeling for the headmaster of Hogwarts.
"Indeed! Your idea is very wise!" Ian immediately gave a thumbs up. Dumbledore's gentle words gave him a chill down his spine.
It was even more chilling than the feeling Grindelwald gave off. Old Deng's memories were indeed correct; no wonder he and Grindelwald were able to hang out together when they were young.
"Riddle tore his own soul apart, more than once. I can imagine the terrible scene." Dumbledore picked up the golden cup on his desk and toyed with it with one hand. "He made many, many preparations for immortality and to protect himself from being murdered. His preparations were probably far more thorough than we imagine."
Worry appeared in Dumbledore's eyes.
Upon seeing this.
Ian couldn't help but say, "Why don't you ask the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? If I remember correctly, he should be able to help you find the answer."
A very constructive suggestion.
Dumbledore gave a bitter smile, "Remember what I said, Ian? The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's words are not much more credible than Riddle's."
The old man's weariness and deep helplessness made Ian feel a little sorry for him.
"Why don't you transform into a younger version of yourself and beg him?"
He offered Dumbledore more constructive suggestions.
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment before rubbing his temples, placing the golden cup back on his desk, revealing an extremely haggard face and sunken eye sockets.
Yes.
When I rub my temples, my eye sockets sink in immediately, I don't know why.
"I think it might be better to listen to the opinions of younger people, Ian—if you were to make the judgment, how many would you think it would be?"
He interlaced his fingers on the desk and looked at Ian.
Why the hell did you ask so directly?
"????"
Ian covered his head with Fawkes, the phoenix that was tired of lying down and wanted to stand up. He was speechless for a moment, staring at Dumbledore with a sullen expression before finally speaking.
"Is seven a magical number?"
Ian sighed.
Dumbledore's eyes flickered, then he closed them and nodded.
"Indeed."
His voice, now back to normal, carried a sense of relief.
"Thanks.""
A moment later.
The elderly man spoke sincerely.
Ian didn't know how to respond, but fortunately Dumbledore didn't trouble him for too long. When Dumbledore opened his eyes again, he no longer looked haggard.
He looked radiant, his eyes sparkling. Just as Ian was starting to wonder if Dumbledore wanted to discuss Horcruxes or probe deeper into the subject...
"My child, Fawkes is a male phoenix, and he cannot help you hatch that special egg," Dumbledore said abruptly, making Ian's eyes widen.
"Clang clang~"
Phoenix Fox responded from above Ian's head.
After it flapped its wings and flew away this time, Ian did not stop it. No wonder the phoenix was unwilling to stay in the nest to incubate the eggs; it seemed that it was indeed uncomfortable to lie down.
"Why didn't you say so sooner! If you had said so earlier, this wouldn't have happened!" Ian quickly took the egg off his head and started teasing Phoenix Fox for not being able to speak.
"Clang clang~ Clang clang~ Clang clang~"
Phoenix Fox's response was quite strong, and it seemed like they were using very offensive language.
If Ian hadn't pulled out some precious medicinal herbs to shut it up, perhaps tonight while Ian was sleeping, a phoenix that cursed all night would have been guarding outside his window.
"Professor, do you know how to hatch this egg?" Ian calmed Fawkes down with his "kryptonite" before presenting the phoenix egg he had obtained to Dumbledore.
"This is a question you need to find the answer to yourself." Dumbledore didn't take the egg from Ian's hand; he merely looked at the peculiar patterns on it with slight curiosity. "Every phoenix is different, but it will definitely help you when you need it. The Dumbledore family's years of verification are certainly not wrong."
Speaking of it.
Dumbledore, still looking somewhat awkward, touched his face—there were faint scratch marks on it.
Although it's not obvious, the scratch marks look very new.
"I haven't even established a connection with the life inside yet, how can it help me?" Ian had tried many times, but he had never been able to sense the phoenix inside the egg. After all, it was something brought out from a dreamlike realm, and sometimes he even doubted whether the phoenix inside had completely died out and could not hatch.
"Many people believe that the arrival of the phoenix is accompanied by song and a beautiful figure." Dumbledore stood up, walked to Fawkes on the golden branch, and stroked his phoenix.
He turned to Ian and said, "That's not entirely true, Ian. You might not have considered why this egg ended up in your hands."
Hearing what Dumbledore said.
Ian wanted to say that he had traded a winged demon egg with a friend, but before he could speak, Dumbledore's slightly deep voice rang out in the headmaster's office. "The reason Fawkes is so averse to this egg is because the life inside makes him feel threatened—well, the little guy inside is very strong."
"My child, the phoenix has already come to your side; it is just waiting for the time when you need it." Dumbledore said, raising his hand to touch his face again.
"I don't actually want Severus to see your egg." His words sounded somewhat hesitant, a tone he hadn't used when discussing his solo battle against countless wizards.
"Your letter, Professor."
Ian stared thoughtfully at the phoenix egg in his hand for a moment, then suddenly pulled two letters out of his tuxedo. This unexpected reaction startled Dumbledore.
"The letter with the big head drawn on it is for Aberforth. Remember to tell him to pay the postage," Ian reminded him, since he had no connection with Dumbledore's brother.
"!!!!"
Dumbledore, who had been wearing a gentle smile, instantly turned horrified upon seeing the two letters in Ian's hand.
It was as if I had seen a ghost.
The portraits of the principals on the wall also showed expressions of disbelief. They covered their mouths, unseen by Ian, who was rummaging through his wallet, which had been enchanted with an expansion spell.
"You can really do this—...this—this—..." Dumbledore quickly abandoned trying to calm Fawkes down and rushed frantically to Ian.
The speed was not like that of an elderly person.
"What—what a defiant talent—" Dumbledore gave Ian a deep look, then looked down at the two seemingly ordinary letters in Ian's hands.
The graffiti above.
Dumbledore's eyes instantly welled up with tears, and he trembled slightly. After slowly extending his aged hand, he suddenly and swiftly withdrew it.
Unusually hesitant and indecisive.
As if bound by the heaviness in his heart. Gryffindor students are always like this; they are not lacking in courage, but they easily lose courage when faced with what they care about most. Ian even felt fear and timidity growing in the old headmaster's heart after he lost control of his emotions.
"It's just about longing and reminiscing."
Ian placed the two letters into Dumbledore's hands. Dumbledore's hands trembled even more violently as he held the letters, as if the two thin letters weighed a ton.
He quickly steadied himself on the desk and sat back down in his chair. He carefully gazed at the letter, his fingers gently tracing the envelope, as if he could feel the kinship that transcended the boundaries of life and death.
"Don't tell anyone about this talent of yours. It's great—and terrifying," Dumbledore said earnestly to Ian at this moment.
"Only you and the principals know this."
Ian looked at the camera and then at the portraits on the wall.
None of the past principals in the portraits spoke; each of them stared intently at him, their expressions filled with indescribable complexity.
The headmaster, who came from Ravenclaw, looked at Ian with a hint of fear.
"The principals are trustworthy people; they will keep this secret for you—and so will I." The old man's lips parted slightly, then closed again, as if trying to calm the turmoil within. He took a deep breath, finally mustering his courage, and carefully tore open the envelope.
His movements were very gentle, as if he were afraid of damaging even the slightest bit of the letter. As the letter was unfolded...
The old man's pale face gradually grew more and more ashamed as he read.
Ian didn't know what the letter contained, nor did he have the habit of peeping at other people's letters. He simply stood a short distance away and raised the camera in his hand.
Through the camera's viewfinder, Ian saw the tears welling up in Dumbledore's eyes finally burst forth.
The ink slowly dripped down her cheek and onto the letter, spreading and spreading.
The old man frantically grabbed a handkerchief and wiped himself, forgetting that he was a wizard. His flustered and panicked state was something no one had ever seen in Dumbledore before. In the end, Ian couldn't press the shutter button. He sighed and put down the camera.
"Restored to its original state."
Ian pulled out his wand and restored the letter for Dumbledore.
"Thank you, thank you!"
Dumbledore covered his face with his hands, tears welling up between his fingers as he sobbed softly. His shoulders trembled slightly, as if all his strength and maturity had crumbled at that moment, leaving only an aging brother filled with deep guilt and endless longing for his sister.
The mighty Dumbledore.
At this moment, it seems that only the vulnerable side remains.
Good night, professor.
Looking back at Dumbledore, who no longer seemed so powerful, composed, and infinitely confident, Ian gently closed the office door as he left. At that moment, Ian realized that the messenger should perhaps not try to record anything, and that witnessing should only remain in his own memory.
He was just a passerby.
The office was empty.
Like a string on a musical instrument, the sound lingered intermittently for a long time. When the moon was high in the sky outside, the old man carefully put down the letter after calming down for a while.
"That little wizard! He did the impossible! How could this happen!" Only now did the headmasters on the walls dare to express their disbelief.
"Merlin has that ability; it's not like it hasn't happened before, but I never expected it to happen again. None of you know the legend of Merlin better than I do." - Phineas Nigellus
While Black was refuting the claim on the wall, he didn't forget to mention the rumor that Merlin had once disguised himself and attended Slytherin.
"I hope everyone will keep this a secret and not let anyone outside this office know about it—out of respect for you principals, I don't think I should use magic to desecrate you."
Dumbledore looked up at the portraits on the wall with a deep gaze.
"You want to burn us to the ground with fiery flames, don't you?"
Feeling disrespected, Phineas Nigellus Black was furious.
"I don't think you headmasters have gone too far down that path. You should know that Ian Prince is always capable of coming after you—as far as I know, that boy holds a grudge." Dumbledore began with a reminder, and his words immediately silenced Phineas Nigellus Black.
He was well aware of how Slytherin students had been subjected to all sorts of petty retaliations by Ian after offending him—and the expressions on the faces of the other headmasters were equally fascinating.
"No one dares to reveal his secret, don't worry, Dumbledore—" The man before him looked terrified.
The headmaster, a Ravenclaw alumnus, was still shaken. "This isn't a human ability, absolutely not. He might be divinely favored. Your era has produced a chosen one!"
This is an evaluation of the principal.
Dumbledore was somewhat surprised.
Before he could even ask anything, Armando Dippet, who had once been Dumbledore's superior and had succeeded him as headmaster, gave him a serious reminder.
"Not only can he travel between the borders of life and death, this child even just gave you a prophecy!" This reminder did not change Dumbledore's expression.
He stared at the letter in his hand, his eyes flickering as he spoke softly, "Actually, ever since I learned of his talent, I've had my doubts. If he could transcend life and death like Merlin, he might also be a prophet like Merlin. And the facts have proven that he can see more than Grindelwald."
Upon hearing this...
The principals on the wall have some different faces.
"You should ask him where the other things are; I suspect he'll be able to give you the answer then," Principal Armando Dippert said, frowning.
Dumbledore looked up at the window and chuckled softly.
"Ian at least told me the number."
Dumbledore's voice carried a hint of emotion.
"This is an immense act of trust, and I should only be grateful for it. You know, that child owes me nothing, yet he still risked his life to help me."
He began very carefully, not daring to be careless in the slightest, intending to seal the letters back to their original state.
They handled it with the utmost care, as if it were some indescribable treasure.
Because he had been too focused on the contents of the letter and had overlooked that there was something else in the envelope, Dumbledore was about to put the letter back in the envelope when...
A photo fell out.
In the photo.
The three people huddled together, each with a different expression, creating a very warm and cozy scene.
"Although Christmas hasn't arrived yet, I think I've received the most delightful gift on Halloween." Dumbledore's smile was warm, his eyes still red from crying. He gently stroked the photograph in his hand, as if trying to feel his sister's smile through the picture.
Ian did indeed take a risk for Dumbledore.
He bumped into Gilderoy Grindelwald as soon as he turned a corner outside.
"He really did find another Horcrux. I might not be able to sleep tonight because of this, so—"
On Halloween, would you like to join me on a trip?
The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who seemed to have been secretly spying on Ian during that time, extended an invitation with a smile.
Ian was not given the option to refuse.