The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 81, Section 80: The Real Dumbledore, the Framing

The basement of Hogwarts.

Black stones were piled up to form a somber and oppressive wall, and shelves along the wall were filled with all kinds of glass jars, which were filled with many strange and unusual things.

The colorful liquids contain specimens of snakes, scorpions, toads, and even the eyeballs and organs of some unfamiliar creatures.

In the center of the room, there was a large rectangular table with a balance, glassware for measuring solutions, and beakers of dried herbal materials on it.

Several bronze cauldrons still rested on the iron rack, likely simmering some kind of mysterious potion, filling the entire room with its indescribable, unique aroma. This was the current office of the Headmaster of Slytherin, and it was also suspected to have been a former solitary confinement cell used for cruel punishments at Hogwarts.

Now, after many years, it seems to have returned to its former purpose. Mr. Marcus Flint, whose family has many connections in the Ministry of Magic, has been tied to a chair by Snape for several hours.

Snape was certainly not torturing Marcus Flint; he was just using a somewhat archaic method to complete his mission and gather information, at least that was how he intended to submit his report.

"Gurgle gurgle gurgle~"

The potion in the crucible was bubbling.

From the very beginning, without stopping.

He remains in a coma to this day.

Marcus Flint had probably gone through dozens of rounds of Snape's skillful service. The table next to the bench was filled with all sorts of bottles and jars, now empty.

Besides the super-large dose of Truth Potion, there were also many other magical potions with various effects. The potions being brewed in those cauldrons must be Marcus Flint's dinner tonight.

This is certainly not an operation permitted by the school, and it definitely does not comply with the Ministry of Magic's regulations on torture.

However, Snape, the true dark wizard of Hogwarts, obviously didn't care about morality.

The words "Death Eaters" are used.

What more needs to be said?

"Slytherin doesn't need students like this. To be lured to Hogsmeade by a stripper's card is worse than those Gryffindor idiots!"

Snape raised his wand and cast a spell on Marcus Flint. He was, after all, a redeemed dark wizard; whether or not he used "Oblivion" was the "essential" difference between him and other dark wizards. The other party's family's connections in the Ministry of Magic were indeed a problem, but if the other party remembered nothing, that problem would naturally disappear.

People?

Where can I find a good magic wand?

"Severus, I hope I haven't disturbed your work." Snape had just finished mixing the eerie-colored potion when he turned around and saw Dumbledore appear in his office at some point.

"Albus, what brings you here?"

Startled, Snape took a few steps back and discreetly hid the potion behind his back. Clearly, it wasn't a potion he wanted Dumbledore to discover its effects.

"I just want to know the results on Mr. Flint's side as soon as possible." Dumbledore glanced at Marcus Flint, who was tied to a chair.

"It's the Imperius Curse, no doubt. If I don't tie Flint up, I won't be able to fulfill your request. He might suddenly launch a deadly sneak attack on me."

Snape preemptively explained why he treated Marcus Flint the way he did.

Soul-Stealing Curse.

One of the three unforgivable offenses.

The person under the spell will feel their mind go blank, all thoughts and sense of responsibility will vanish, and in a state of unparalleled happiness and joy, they will follow the voice in their mind to accomplish anything.

Even if the other party's request is for the cursed person to kill their parents, the cursed person will absolutely do so with a smile and without hesitation. Only those with exceptionally strong will can be swayed.

"Just as I thought."

Dumbledore nodded slightly.

Noncommittal.

"Have you found any useful information in Mr. Flint's mind?" Dumbledore asked, approaching the unconscious Marcus Flint.

Under Snape's somewhat surprised gaze.

He raised his wand.

Aiming at Marcus Flint's temple, he quickly extracted a memory, as thin as a silver thread, and placed it into a special container that seemed to have been prepared beforehand.

"The spellcaster's methods are extremely sophisticated and careful enough that even when altering Flint's memories, no identity information was left in Flint's mind." Snape found Dumbledore's behavior somewhat puzzling, wondering if he suspected Dumbledore of fabricating lies.

Could Death Eaters be behind this?

Has Dumbledore lost faith in himself?

In an instant.

Snape's brow furrowed deeply.

"It seems that the mysterious little mouse who was hiding is quite good at teaching. Flint is not a particularly gifted wizard, but he was able to teach Mr. Flint your Shadowstep Spell in one night, and then use that spell to kill our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Dumbledore could perform Legilimency without looking directly into eyes, and many people's fear of Dumbledore is not without reason.

"Yes, they added Prince's name unnecessarily, and then came to us to identify him, thinking they were being clever."

This was all just Flint trying to get revenge for his family friends.

During Legilimency, Snape already knew about the feud between Ian and Daphne, and also why Flint wanted to target Ian.

"Before he went to Hogsmeade, he was already thinking about some underhanded framing, and under the influence of the Imperius Curse, he might have considered it part of the order?" Snape wasn't sure if the Imperius Curse's side effects could produce something similar; he preferred the Cruciatus Curse and the evil curses he had created.

"Perhaps we should strengthen the anti-fraud education for the young wizards at Hogwarts." Finally, Snape added a suggestion with a hint of exasperation.

Dumbledore did not respond.

"Have these potions worked at all?" Dumbledore glanced at the bottles and jars, having gained some understanding of Marcus Flint's predicament.

It is useful for uncovering the truth.

But it's not necessarily necessary to use it.

"I'm treating Mr. Flint's body. You know, the Unforgivable Curse affects more than just the mind." Snape forced a calm expression, maintaining his rigid demeanor.

"A good excuse."

Dumbledore nodded, offering neither reprimand nor advice. Snape sensed that Dumbledore was acting strangely today, but before he could figure out what was going on with him...

"I need a list of users who are familiar with the original version of the Shadowstep Spell," Dumbledore suddenly said, pulling Snape out of his thoughts.

"I haven't spread this curse to too many people." Snape walked to his desk, wrote down a list, and then walked up to Dumbledore with a stern face.

"This list is meaningless, because that crazy woman Bella can do it too, and she may have already spread this curse to many, many people."

In response to Snape's reminder.

Dumbledore simply smiled.

"Once we've checked your list, we can actually identify our target." Dumbledore's words were not ambiguous, and Snape quickly understood their meaning.

"Those guys won't dare show their faces now."

Snape clearly had a different opinion.

"In any case, there must be that little rat's mole in our school." Dumbledore's tone was certain. "Ronnie Ehrlich is not a weak wizard, otherwise my old friend would not have sent him to protect and monitor. This man has escaped from Riddle's clutches more than once."

Snape nodded in agreement with Dumbledore's assessment. They had already witnessed Marcus...

Flint's memories revealed the entire process of Marcus Flint murdering the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Ronnie Ehrlich seemed to be looking for his lost wand, and judging from his unsteady gait, he was probably under the influence of some kind of toxic substance."

"On this point, I need Pomona to help examine Professor Erich's—body." Snape felt that the fragments were indeed a bit difficult to name.

The spell he invented is truly inhuman.

"I will participate in the testing with you." Dumbledore nodded, but his words made Snape frown even more, and a very displeased expression appeared on his face.

"Are you doubting me?" Snape was still thinking about Dumbledore's behavior earlier. Under normal circumstances, Dumbledore would not doubt his work.

In this sensitive period, with Voldemort set to return next year.

He couldn't help but overthink it.

"Of course not, Severus, you are the person I least doubt." Dumbledore didn't know if he was being manipulative, but he found a reason for his decision.

"I have a fairly good understanding of who these fanatics' enemies are, and perhaps I can find some useful clues and information from the poisoning methods they use."

That's reasonable.

However, this did not make Snape let go of his dissatisfaction.

"You've never truly trusted anyone, Albus. The closer I get to you, the clearer I see you—" Snape said grimly, his tone utterly devoid of politeness.

"You're right. Over the years, very few people have truly seen through me." Dumbledore nodded, neither annoyed nor offering any rebuttal.

His behavior made Snape feel increasingly strange.

Dumbledore on ordinary days.

Although his tone, voice, and expression were no different from the current one, he still felt that something was wrong. Dumbledore's demeanor had changed a lot from the past.

and.

Most importantly, even his overstepping of the bounds in punishing Flint was not criticized by Flint!

"You're not some old codger who's drunk Polyjuice Potion, are you?" Snape reached for his wand, suspecting that Grindelwald's saints were investigating the death of their comrade.

after all.

As someone who usually enjoys bossing others around, Dumbledore's unusual behavior today—wanting to meddle in everything—made it hard not to doubt whether the person standing before him was truly Dumbledore. Nobody could get their hands on Dumbledore's hair? The guys on Grindelwald's side might be able to!

Snape drew his wand, ready to cast a sleeping spell.

"boom!"

Dumbledore's wand slid out of his sleeve, and with a slight lift, it gracefully slid in an arc. Then, wanting to strike first no matter what, Snape, who was willing to guess right or wrong, was shoved against the wall by the powerful magic.

"Snap!"

The potion he had been keeping hidden in his hand fell to the ground, the bottle shattering, and a pool of strangely colored liquid spilled onto the ground, hissing and emitting a sinister green smoke.

"Severus, you're being a little too cautious." Dumbledore sighed and lowered his wand. Snape slowly descended from the wall.

"There are rats in the school, and a murder has happened. Why do you think I'm on guard?" Snape looked like a wolf, his clothes disheveled as he picked up his wand.

He realized he was being too sensitive.

Such powerful magic is difficult for anyone to impersonate.

"I'll handle this." Dumbledore looked at Marcus Flint in the chair. "I'd like to take this boy with me for a while. If you can pretend you were ambushed and failed to complete the task I assigned you, I might be able to use him to lure out the rats hiding in the school."

This is not something a highly respected principal would say.

"He's a Hogwarts student, a minor wizard, and you want to use him as your bait?" Snape stared incredulously at Dumbledore.

He felt as if he were seeing the great white wizard he had known for so many years in a new light. Compared to this inexplicably crazy guy, he felt as kind as a unicorn.

"This is the fastest way to find clues, Severus. Of course, I won't let Mr. Flint die because of this. No one can successfully lay a hand on him under my watch."

Dumbledore spoke calmly.

"If the Board of Governors knew you'd done something like this, they'd make you step down immediately! If you lose your position as headmaster, how will you carry out your plan to eliminate that guy?" Snape wasn't so hostile towards Marcus Flint that he didn't care whether the man lived or died; he wanted to stop Dumbledore's somewhat insane scheme.

"No one but you will know." Dumbledore's expression showed some struggle, but he finally made up his mind and spoke to Snape in a low voice.

"Hogwarts is no longer safe. We need to resolve this threat as soon as possible. Mr. Flint will not be killed because of this; he may just suffer a little bit."

"This is—worth it."

Dumbledore wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Snape, or himself. He didn't wait for Snape's response.

They wanted to take away Marcus Flint, who was unconscious and tied up.

"What's wrong with you?" Snape tried to stop Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed with a complex expression.

"I'm solving the problem."

He closed his eyes.

He looked very tired.

"I suggest you take little Grindelwald away and observe her memories. Ronnie Ehrlich is no ordinary wizard; he won't just take any potion or food given to him by a stranger."

"At the Sorting Ceremony dinner, he even ate what he had brought himself." Snape clearly suspected Aurora Grindelwald.

This is not out of any selfish motive.

It is the most rational and logical judgment.

"If Ronnie Ehrlich would eat anything, it would be food or medicine given to him by young Grindelwald. No saint could refuse the care of their young master!"

Snape stared intently into Dumbledore's eyes.

"I don't think it's Miss Grindelwald. If she wanted a saint to die, she wouldn't need to do that," Dumbledore shook his head without a second thought.

"She doesn't want to accept these saints; I can sense her resistance towards them." Snape, as the head of Slytherin, had naturally had some contact with and knowledge of Aurora.

"Once we find out what's going on, the answer will be revealed." Dumbledore didn't refute, but instead used the Levitation Charm to pull Marcus Flint, along with the chair, toward himself.

"I know you're subconsciously rejecting the most likely possibility because of your—old friend." Snape was probably one of the few people at Hogwarts who dared to speak to Dumbledore like that.

"Severus, you still don't know me well enough." Dumbledore pulled out a Portkey and grabbed Marcus Flint, who was floating in mid-air with his chair.

"I just want you to tell me clearly, what if it turns out that the person who poisoned Ronnie Ehrlich and took his wand was Grindelwald Jr.?"

Snape knew he was powerless to stop him, so he could only grit his teeth and stare intently at Dumbledore.

"In that case—"

Dumbledore's cold gaze sent a chill down Snape's spine.

"You'll see me more clearly because of this."

His words sent a chill down Snape's spine. This was no longer fulfilling the headmaster's duty to protect the students; Snape couldn't understand what had made Dumbledore so unfamiliar.

Grindelwald?

Dumbledore hasn't left the school recently!

"I think I also need to remind you, Severus, that if Marcus Flint hadn't been confused, he wouldn't have come forward to accuse Mr. Prince of being the murderer."

"You should think carefully about who is the one who was framed when we found Professor Ronnie Ehrlich's body and discovered that he died from the 'Shadowless' attack."

Dumbledore left behind a profound statement.

The door key was activated.

He and Marcus Flint both disappeared into the basement.

An empty office.

Only Snape remained, his brows furrowed, his expression complex, his eyes darting around.

In the classroom of the young wizards.

Ian was dozing off.

The History of Magic is widely considered the most tedious course at Hogwarts.

He didn't believe it at first, until Professor Binns showed him the most incredible medical miracle of the twentieth century in a monotonous, dull voice without even a trace of emotion.

Even the most studious Ravenclaw students find it difficult to resist this kind of psychological hypnotic attack.

The tables on the Gryffindor side were already mostly slumped over, snoring away.

There were very few people in the entire class who could manage to scribble down names and dates. Ian understood what Dumbledore meant by war.

He was only eleven years old.

I've started to feel like I'm wasting time and squandering my life. Even the sparrows outside the window have stopped chirping; the description of each day feeling like an eternity has become a tangible experience at this moment.

"Professor, I heard from the senior students that you were trying to get up early one morning to teach your students, but you accidentally left yourself in front of the fireplace in the professor's lounge?"

During Professor Binns' halftime break, Ian raised his hand, trying to rouse himself. It was definitely the most outrageous reason he'd ever heard for becoming a ghost.

"That's right, I was already very old at the time." Just like his seniors had said, Professor Binns didn't mind people mentioning his death.

just.

The senior students seemed to have forgotten to tell Ian.

"Speaking of this, it's actually a piece of history, and perhaps I should tell you about it—" Professor Binns became interested and ended the intermission early.

Finally, even Ian couldn't hold on any longer and fell asleep, sleeping soundly. When William shook him awake, Michael seemed to raise a large, black hand again.

Michael was disappointed that they still couldn't continue playing.

"Dinner's ready."

The three of them yawned as they headed to the auditorium. The banquet was as lavish as ever, though the variety of dishes remained largely unchanged. However, since it was the beginning of the semester, they didn't find it tiresome.

"What should we say? What about the letter of introduction?" William was preoccupied with joining the Party, and he kept grabbing the best food for Ian during the meal.

Passionate as fire.

Even Michael, with his quick reflexes, couldn't beat him.

"I'll write it when I get back!"

Ian handed William his history of magic homework for the day, and William naturally put it in his bag without even asking Ian what it meant.

This child has potential.

"My God, Prince, I heard you killed the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"I heard that Professor Snape was also killed!"

"Hilarious! A first-year wizard single-handedly defeating an adult wizard? I've never read a novel or biography that would dare to write something like this. I bet this is another masterpiece concocted by Gryffindor!"

Return to the lounge.

The young wizards of Ravenclaw did indeed know what had happened that morning, but clearly, there was no such thing as being mentally deficient among them; they simply dismissed it as yet another instance of nonsense from certain groups.

Thanks to Gryffindor for its stable reputation.

They saved Ian from being isolated and feared, a fate reminiscent of a wish-fulfillment novel. Of course, the strong support of the two prefects must have played a significant role as well.

The campfire in the fireplace began to burn brightly.

As Ian had said yesterday, he started his little class again. Perhaps because of the standard potion he had that morning, some second-year wizards even joined in.

"We won't talk about potions today. Once I get some materials, I'll teach you step by step. If anyone is willing to learn, I'll teach you some Transfiguration techniques."

The professor's content has been changed.

Some people hesitated and left.

Others were also interested in joining.

Ian saw it all.

No evaluation was given.

After collecting tuition fees from all the young wizards, he began his vivid and engaging explanation. Time flew by.

He received the same gratitude and admiration from the young wizards as he had the night before.

After returning to the dormitory and washing up.

Ian noticed that William was just sitting on the bed, not saying a word, but staring at him with a pleading look in his eyes. He immediately understood and quickly wrote the letter of recommendation.

Followed by.

I studied for a while longer.

Seeing that his two roommates had fallen into a deep sleep, Ian pulled out the box he had brought from the House of Requirement and stuffed it, along with the two boxes of Chocolate Frogs he had received today and yesterday, into his bed.

Even though he had slept quite a bit in the afternoon, falling asleep was not difficult for Ian, and he soon stepped into that strange place again in a daze.

The night is deep.

Some stories are still going on.