Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Chapter 307 Alastor, are you willing to make a small sacrifice for this?
Every few steps, he would reach out and touch the rough cave wall. Occasionally, he would stop and run his fingers over a protruding rock, the magic of his fingertips gently seeping into the cracks in the rock, as if searching for some key point.

Finally, he stopped in front of a rock on the right side of the cave, placed his palm flat on the cold stone wall, and held it there for a few seconds.

"That's it."

Dumbledore withdrew his hand and said with certainty, "We go in from here; the entrance is hidden."

After saying that, he took three steps back, keeping a certain distance from the rock wall, raised his wand, and pointed the tip at the spot where his palm had just pressed.

The next second, the remaining dark magic power in the stone wall seemed to have suddenly found an outlet, and all rushed towards the node that Dumbledore's wand was pointing to.

Instantly, a foul-smelling, cold wind swept through the narrow cave, carrying with it the stench of decay that made one involuntarily wrinkle their nose.

Dylan took a drag.

"Hmm, it tastes so familiar, almost like it does in my lab."

Not a few seconds passed.

At the point where the wand was pointing, the outline of an archway gradually appeared.

The edges of the outline emitted a blinding white light.

The light was so strong that one couldn't help but squint, as if a high-powered light was shining continuously from the other side of the archway's crack, even dispelling much of the shadow deep within the cave.

"Now we can finally walk, right?" Moody took two steps forward, his tone urgent, and tapped his wooden cane heavily on the stone slab three times, making a "thump, thump, thump" sound, clearly showing that he was getting impatient.

“I think it’s alright, let’s go,” Dumbledore said, and started to walk toward the archway.

But as soon as he took a step, Dylan reached out and stopped him.

At this moment, the once dazzling archway was visibly dimming, the white light gradually weakening, flickering on the stone wall like a candle flame swaying in the wind, as if it would disappear completely in the next second.

"Professor, something seems wrong. We might be in trouble," Dylan said, his gaze fixed on the barely visible archway.

He walked quickly to the stone wall, bent down slightly, and carefully examined the outline of the archway.

Soon, he discovered some small, distorted characters carved on the stone wall at the edge of the archway.

The text was written in ancient runes, and the characters were surrounded by a faint black magic, appearing exceptionally clear against the backdrop of the remaining white light.

Dylan deciphered the runes word by word and discovered that they eventually connected to form a complete contract.

He studied it for a moment, sensing the magical fluctuations contained within the runes.

He then straightened up and said with certainty, "To make this archway fully reappear, it must be 'fed' with the blood of a wizard."

"How much blood do you need?" Moody asked immediately.

He reached for the copper wine jug at his waist, unscrewed the lid, tilted his head back, and took a sip of the tranquilizer. The cool liquid slid down his throat, calming his somewhat agitated emotions.

Dylan shook his head: "It's hard to say right now. It might only take a tiny drop, or it might take the blood of an adult. But this is a trap set by Voldemort, and judging by his style, it's more likely to be the latter."

This is clearly a calculated scheme.

Even though they saw through Voldemort's scheme, they had no choice but to follow the rules he set, otherwise they would not be able to enter the depths of the cave.

"These are just petty tricks."

Dumbledore's voice suddenly rang out, his eyes unusually firm, his gaze fixed on the crack in the archway, as if trying to see through the stone wall to the scene inside.

"Voldemort will never understand that there are many things in this world that are far more terrible than physical harm."

Dylan stood to the side, watching Dumbledore's back, and felt that the other man's image had suddenly become much taller.

—Although I didn’t fully understand the deeper meaning of those words, I was inexplicably struck by their aura.

But then, Dumbledore's next sentence shattered this "lofty image" instantly.

"So, Alastor, are you willing to make a small sacrifice for this?"

Dumbledore turned to look at Moody, his tone deliberately gentle, "I can assure you, with Tom's little schemes, he'll only need 'a tiny bit' of your blood at most."

talking.

He extended his right hand, gently pinching his index finger and thumb together.

He left a tiny gap, held his hand in front of his half-moon shaped glasses, and squinted slightly.

He exaggeratedly demonstrated to Moody just how much "a little bit of blood" actually was, with a faint smile playing on his lips.

Looking at the tiny gap between Dumbledore's fingers.

Fortunately, Moody had taken a lot of tranquilizers beforehand, and the cool liquid was still working in his body, suppressing his emotions.

Otherwise, Dylan really suspected that Moody would have lost his temper and grabbed Dumbledore by the collar.

They might even grab him by the neck.

After all, it would be difficult for anyone to remain calm upon hearing such a blatantly self-serving suggestion.

Even with the tranquilizer as a backup, Dumbledore's words still thoroughly enraged Moody.

His already furrowed brows tightened even more, the veins on his forehead bulged, and his bright blue magic eyes darted wildly, staring intently at Dumbledore.

The next second, Moody suddenly raised his voice, his voice filled with anger, almost shouting: "You're so high and mighty! You think you're so great! So you're the one who has to bleed, and you're just talking without any sense of responsibility, huh!"

He took a step forward, his oak prosthetic leg striking the stone slab with a heavy thud, as if venting his dissatisfaction.

The flask swayed slightly beside him, the remaining tranquilizer inside bobbing gently with the movement.

But at this moment, it was clear that his anger could not be completely quelled.

After all, Dumbledore's suggestion was far too inconsiderate of his old friend's feelings.

Moody's anger showed no signs of abating. He took another step forward, his bright blue magic eyes fixed on Dumbledore, his voice filled with doubt and rage.

"Why don't you bleed yourself? When the endoscope was spinning wildly around you just now, I thought it might be a problem with the equipment. But now it seems you really are harboring malicious intent, and quite a lot of it!"

Seeing this, Dumbledore softened his tone, trying to calm Moody down: "Alastor, calm down. In fact, if it were just the two of us here, I would definitely bleed myself without hesitation."

"But now there are three of us, and we will face unknown dangers ahead, so we must preserve as much strength as possible."

"This is just the first test set by Voldemort. Logically speaking, it should be the simplest test with the least cost, which is why he made you the first to pay the price."

"The later levels will only be more difficult. Dylan and I need your experience and strength to protect us. Your sensitivity to dark magic traps is stronger than ours."

As Dumbledore's words unfolded, Moody's anger gradually dissipated, and his tense shoulders slowly relaxed.

He remained silent for a few seconds, as if weighing the pros and cons, and finally gritted his teeth and nodded, agreeing with Dumbledore's statement.

“Someone has to step forward and sacrifice. Since this hurdle is relatively easy, let me be the first one!” Moody turned his head slightly, his scarred profile looking particularly resolute in the dim light of his wand.

The anger from before was gone from his eyes; instead, a light like faith flashed in them—the kind of courage a seasoned Auror would show when facing danger.

Seeing this, Dumbledore raised his hand and waved his wand. A flash of silver light appeared, and a small silver knife appeared in his palm.

The blade is sharp, and the handle is engraved with simple anti-slip patterns.

He handed the knife to Moody and said softly, "Alastor, take this."

Moody took the knife and, without hesitation, lightly made a cut on his left wrist.

Instantly, a bright red line of blood appeared, and blood dripped down the wound, splashing onto that particular spot on the stone wall.

He didn't stop moving; his wrist tilted slightly, allowing blood to flow down the joint and soak the surrounding rocks.

Soon, the outline of that dazzling white archway reappeared on the cave wall.

This time, the white light did not gradually dim as before, but instead grew brighter and brighter, remaining steadily on the stone wall.

A moment later, the blood-soaked rock inside the archway suddenly disappeared as if drawn away by an invisible force, revealing a dark doorway.

The depths of the doorway were pitch black, stretching as far as the eye could see, as if it concealed endless darkness.

Dumbledore immediately stepped forward and gently tapped Moody's bleeding wrist with his wand.

Pale golden magic flowed from the tip of the staff, enveloping Moody's wound.

The long, bright red wound that was still bleeding stopped bleeding instantly, and quickly healed and scabbed over, leaving only a shallow mark.

"Alright, Alastor, that's enough."

Dumbledore put away his wand, his tone tinged with satisfaction.

"Thank you..." Moody's voice sounded weak. The blood he had just lost not only took away his strength, but also weakened his magic power.

He stood there, his steps slightly unsteady.

Seeing this, Dylan immediately stepped forward, reached out and slipped his arm under Moody's armpit from behind, and steadily lifted him up, helping him to stand upright.

He looked down at Moody's face and noticed that the other man's complexion was much paler than before, and his lips had lost their color.

After settling Moody in.

The three of them raised their wands, the tips of which glowed with a faint light.

Dumbledore's is warm white, Moody's is light blue, and Dylan's is light gold.

They helped each other as they slowly walked into the dark doorway.

The moment you step through the doorway, the scene before you changes abruptly.

A strange scene appeared before the three of them.

They stood on the shore of a large, black lake, its waters an almost inky black, the surface calm and still, stretching into the distance.

Until it blends into the dark cave walls, with no end in sight.

The cave they were in was extremely high up; looking up, all they could see was endless darkness, and they couldn't even make out the outline of the cave ceiling.

In the far distance, seemingly right in the center of this black lake, a hazy, shimmering green light faintly flickered.

The light was faint yet persistent, reflecting in the still lake below, forming a long, thin green shadow that looked particularly eerie in the darkness.

Apart from the hazy green light in the center of the lake and the faint glow flickering at the tips of the three wands, the surroundings were shrouded in darkness as thick as ink.

Even the slightly brighter warm white light from the tip of Dumbledore's staff could only illuminate the ground within a half-meter radius. Beyond that, the light seemed to be swallowed up by an invisible force, unable to even cause a ripple.

The darkness here is much denser and heavier than on a normal night.

Standing there, even your breath feels like it can touch the cold "black".

As soon as Dylan regained his footing, he felt the dark magic surging in from all directions like a heavy tide, as if a huge boulder was pressing on his chest, making it difficult to even breathe.

His magic became sluggish as it circulated within his body, until a full three minutes had passed.

He gradually regulated his breathing and adapted to the almost suffocating feeling of oppression.

"An interesting design."

Moody next to him was in even worse shape.

His already pale face was now as white as a sheet of paper, and his hands, which were supporting him against the rock wall, were trembling slightly.

His body swayed, and he almost fell forward.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and used his cane to brace himself against the ground, barely managing to keep his swaying body afloat. His breathing was as heavy as a broken bellows.

"Isn't that green light in the middle of the lake where the Horcrux we're looking for is located?"

Moody raised his trembling hand and pointed into the distance, his voice weak but still wary.

Following the direction he pointed, one could see a small, protruding piece of land beneath the green light, resembling a miniature island in a lake, surrounded by dark water.

"I think so."

Dumbledore sniffed; the air was thick with the scent of dark magic, carrying a musty, rotten smell.

This made him furrow his brows and purse his lips into a straight line.

His right hand slowly drew circles in front of him, his fingertips swirling with a faint, warm white magic, as if he were groping in the air, trying to catch something unseen. His movements were slow but exceptionally focused.

Moody held his breath, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's movements.

Suddenly, Dumbledore's fingertips tightened, as if he had grasped something cold.

Immediately afterwards, he slowly pulled out a wisp of "invisible" black mist from the darkness in front of him.

The black mist was almost invisible to the naked eye; only those who were exceptionally sensitive to magic could vaguely sense the chilling aura churning within it.

It wriggled in Dumbledore's palm like a restless little snake.

Dumbledore, clutching the dark energy, slowly walked towards the lake, his hand holding the energy hovering in the air, while his other hand held the Elder Wand, the tip of which gently tapped his fist.

The next second, a tiny ripple suddenly appeared on the calm surface of the Black Lake.

(End of this chapter)