Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Chapter 308 Dumbledore: You're not going to try to persuade me anymore?

A green copper chain, as thick as a thumb, suddenly shot out from the depths of the lake.

The chain links, still covered with dark green seaweed and small pebbles from the lakebed, rushed towards Dumbledore's clenched fist and wrapped around it like vines.

Dumbledore tapped the brass chain wrapped around his fist with his wand again, and the chain immediately loosened, slipping through his fingers like a living snake and falling to the ground, where it coiled into a pile.

The chain links collided, producing a crisp "clinking" sound.

The sound bounced back and forth in the empty cave, creating loud echoes that broke the previous silence.

As the copper chain was pulled down, a slight pulling sound came from the bottom of the lake.

Soon, the bow of a small boat emerged from the dark lake like a ghost. The hull gleamed with a greenish light, like a copper chain, and the wooden planks on the surface were old and cracked with several small gaps.

It drifted slowly across the water toward the shore where Dylan and his companions were, its movements so gentle that it barely made a ripple, eerily quiet.

"This boat doesn't look like it can fit three people, Albus."

Moody squinted, carefully examining the small boat that was slowly approaching.

The boat was really too small; it was less than two meters long and only a little over half a meter wide.

It feels spacious enough for one person, but it's just the right size for two people to squeeze in.

If three people were to get on, they probably wouldn't even be able to sit still; they could only pray that it wouldn't tip over and fall into the lake on the spot.

Dumbledore stared at the lone boat on the lake, his brow furrowing involuntarily.

He knew very well that what was preventing them from moving forward was not the size of the space.

Based on his understanding of Tom, the other party would never care about trivial things like weight.

The real key is how much magical power can cross this lake shrouded in dark magic.

Moody was already injured and unable to participate in the next operation.

He had to go there himself, with Dylan beside him.

Its magical power far exceeded that of ordinary adult wizards.

This forced him to reconsider his method of boarding the ship.

Just as Dumbledore was pondering, Dylan suddenly leaned down, his gaze fixed on the inside of the small boat.

He stretched out his fingers and gently touched the runes engraved on the inside of the ship's hull. The sensation from his fingertips immediately alerted him to something amiss.

"Professor, look here."

Dylan's voice carried a certainty, "The magic runes on this ship are strange. They are covered with cracks caused by dark magic, and their luster has become dull. They have obviously been severely corroded."

"Perhaps we can find a way to repair and strengthen these magic runes, so that they can support more people."

Dumbledore looked in the direction Dylan pointed, and a glint of light flashed in his eyes.

He immediately crouched down to stand beside Dylan.

The two of them simultaneously placed their palms on the magic runes on the small boat and began to slowly channel their own magic power into the runes' veins.

At first, the magic runes trembled slightly.

But as magic continued to be injected, those dim lines gradually lit up with a faint light, like sparks being awakened.

Dylan could feel it clearly.

The small boat is like a container that can never be filled.

He continued to output magic power until nearly a third of the magic power in his body was drawn away, only then did he vaguely notice that the suction force of the magic runes had weakened a bit.

Dumbledore also stopped the transfer of magic at the same time.

The two looked at each other.

Look at that small boat again.

The once slightly worn-out hull now gleamed with a faint sheen.

The boat floated slightly, and although the space was still small, it was enough for him and Dylan to squeeze together without the boat sinking to the bottom of the lake.

"Alastor, I'll leave it to you."

Dumbledore turned to Moody, who was standing on the shore, and smiled gently. "Please stay here and keep an eye out for what's going on around us."

Moody leaned against the rocks on the shore, watching Dumbledore and Dylan board the small boat, the oars churning the lake water as they gradually rowed towards the center of the lake.

Only after the two figures completely disappeared into the thin mist on the lake did he take out a bottle of tranquilizer from his pocket, unscrew the cap, and drink the potion in one gulp.

The bitter liquid slid down his throat, slightly relieving his discomfort.

He pressed his hand tightly against the area where he had been injured, and the pain from the wound made him wince.

He then slowly sat down on the ground.

Even so, his gaze remained fixed on the lake, which was as calm as a mirror, his eyes filled with vigilance, not daring to relax for a moment.

Years of combat experience told him that this seemingly calm lake could harbor unexpected dangers at any moment.

Dumbledore gripped the oar and slowly rowed towards the center of the lake. The moment the oar cut into the surface, two deep cracks immediately appeared on the calm, glass-like water.

As the boat moved forward, the tracks quickly closed, leaving only a trail of fine ripples behind it.

Dylan sat at the stern, his gaze fixed on the water around him.

The lake exudes an eerie stillness, as if even the wind is shut out, with only the sound of oars paddling through the water echoing in the emptiness.

Not long after, there was movement underwater.

First, several pale fingers emerged from the dark lake water, with mud from the bottom of the lake still clinging to their fingernails.

Immediately afterwards, more limbs of the undead surfaced.

Some had half an arm exposed, and some even had rotting shoulders visible, their skin a deathly gray color, gleaming with a disgusting sheen in the dim light.

"Hmm, they're a bit stale. Is it because we haven't been able to replenish them for too long? Compared to my pool of corpses, they're better in both quantity and quality, but the corpses themselves aren't up to par."

Dylan examined the corpses.

Dumbledore simply kept his eyes fixed ahead, maintaining the perfect rhythm of his rowing.

They all knew that as long as their feet didn't step into the lake, these Yin Corpses wouldn't attack them.

About fifteen minutes later, the small boat suddenly hit something hard.

Dumbledore stopped rowing and reached out to steady himself on the edge of the boat.

Dylan peered out and saw a small island in the middle of the lake right in front of him, with rocks on the edge of the island that had a cold, gray hue.

The two stood up one after the other. Dumbledore stepped onto the island shore first, and as soon as his feet touched the ground, he turned around and reached out to help Dylan.

They moved with extreme care, keeping their skirts and trousers half a foot away from the lake surface, as if afraid that even a single piece of fabric would get wet.

"This is it."

Dumbledore's voice rang out over the island, carrying a hint of confirmation.

Dylan looked around; the island was indeed about the same size as Dumbledore's office. The floor was a single, smooth black stone slab, so smooth it reflected a person's image, yet devoid of anything superfluous.

Only one spot in the center of the island was emitting a faint green light, which stood out conspicuously in the darkness.

As you get closer, the green light appears even brighter.

Dylan could see the shape of the light source clearly.

It was a stone basin, shaped somewhat like a meditation basin used to store memories, but wider than a regular meditation basin.

At the bottom is a base engraved with intricate patterns, within which faint magical fluctuations seem to linger.

The most peculiar thing is the property of that green light.

The surrounding darkness was so thick it was like ink that couldn't be dissolved, and even moonlight couldn't penetrate it.

But this green light could easily create a bright area in the darkness, and the fine lines on the stone slab could be seen clearly wherever the light reached.

Moody, who was on the opposite shore of the lake, had been staring at the direction of the island in the middle of the lake. When he saw two figures vaguely reflected in the green light, his heart finally calmed down a little.

He leaned against a tree trunk on the shore, his injured arm still throbbing, but he forced his eyes open, gripping his wand tightly in his left hand, his gaze sweeping across every possible spot on the lake that might show any unusual activity.

He had to ensure Dumbledore and Dylan's safety.

Dumbledore walked to the stone basin, and Dylan followed closely behind. The two stood side by side, looking down into the basin.

The stone basin was filled with emerald green liquid, the surface of which shimmered with tiny emeralds, as if countless tiny green gems were rolling within it. When you got close, you could feel a faint chill.

"The Horcrux should be hidden in this liquid."

Dumbledore's expression became extremely serious, and there was not a trace of uncertainty in his tone.

Dylan nodded, raised his right hand, and slowly moved his fingertips toward the surface of the liquid.

Just as his fingertips were about to touch the liquid, he suddenly felt a resistance.

It was as if I had bumped into a cold, invisible barrier, as hard as steel, completely isolating the liquid in the stone basin from the outside world.

He withdrew his hand, his brow furrowing slightly, then raised his wand and whispered something to the barrier.

"Explosive Flame Curse!"

A beam of intense red light shot out from the tip of the wand and hurtled towards the stone basin.

But as soon as the red light touched the barrier, it was instantly bounced off, as if pushed by an invisible force, and flew diagonally toward the lake not far away.

There was a loud "bang" sound.

A red light exploded on the lake's surface, splashing water everywhere, and a chaotic churning sound immediately came from underwater.

A dozen or so severed limbs of the Yin Corpse flew out with the splash of water, some floating on the lake surface, while others sank back into the water.

Dumbledore stepped forward, raised his wand, and tried several different spells to break the spell.

He even tried to inject magic directly into the barrier, but no matter what he did, the barrier remained completely still.

He slowly withdrew his wand, shook his head, and said in a heavy tone, "It seems there is no other way. If we want to get the Horcrux inside, we can only drink all of this liquid."

"I think this is a trap that Voldemort set long ago."

Upon hearing this, Dylan's face showed a look of "worry".

He looked at the eerily glowing liquid in the stone basin, his voice tinged with caution: "But what if this liquid is poisonous? Would it be dangerous to drink it?"

Dumbledore's gaze fell on the shimmering emerald-green liquid in the stone basin. He gently traced the patterns on the rim of the basin with his fingertips and said with certainty, "This liquid is certainly poisonous, but it will not be fatal."

He looked up at Dylan, the heaviness in his eyes fading slightly, replaced by a clearer understanding of Voldemort's thoughts.

"All the obstacles Voldemort set up were always 'leaving a way out for himself'—this Horcrux was the key to his survival. He couldn't let it become a dead end that no one could get it. He would definitely leave a way for himself to take the Horcrux in the future. The poison would only torment people, not really take their lives."

Dylan stood to the side.

He couldn't quite remember what this thing was for.

However, he had a vague feeling that he had heard similar descriptions somewhere before.

But looking into Dumbledore's calm eyes, he wasn't worried at all.

Old Deng had studied his student Tom for many years and knew his temperament better than anyone else.

Voldemort's deep-seated fear of death would certainly prevent him from falling into the predicament of "not being able to obtain the Horcrux".

He reached into the pocket at his waist and touched a cold, frosted glass bottle, which he then pulled out.

The bottle contains a pale pink liquid; with a gentle shake, tiny bubbles rise to the surface.

This is a magic potion he concocted himself—I love drinking water.

It can change the flavor of the liquid to be consumed into any flavor according to the user's wishes.

Dylan gripped the bottle, his gaze shifting from the potion bottle to the stone basin, his tone resolute: "Instead of forcing ourselves to swallow the bitterness and poison, we should use this to alter the taste first."

As soon as he finished speaking, he stepped forward, handed the potion bottle to Dumbledore, and looked up at the old man.

"Professor, let me drink it."

"I'm young and in good health, I'm sure I can pull through."

Dumbledore didn't take the potion bottle; instead, he reached out and gently took it from Dylan's hand.

He held the frosted bottle, looked at the liquid inside under the green light, and a faint smile appeared on his lips: "Your invention is really thoughtful. It can turn something hard to swallow into something you like. It can save a lot of suffering."

“Professor…” Dylan wanted to say something more, wanting to insist on taking the risk himself.

—That way, he can take these solutions away and study them.

The liquid looks very festive, so it must be something Voldemort created that's quite useful.

But Dumbledore waved his hand gently, interrupting him.

Old Deng's eyes instantly turned serious, his tone filled with unwavering determination: "No, Dylan, it's precisely because you're young and have a long road ahead of you that you're far more valuable than this old bone of mine that should have been retired long ago."

"I'm hoping you can do more and shine in the wizarding world in the future, how can I let you take risks here?"

He paused, his gaze drifting towards the opposite shore of the lake. As if recalling what Moody had said before, his tone softened slightly, yet it still carried a resolute attitude.

"Besides, Alastor has mentioned before that someone always has to step up and take risks, or even make sacrifices, for some things."

“If someone has to drink this poisonous liquid today, I hope it’s me—I’ve lived this long, and I’ve done most of what I should and wanted to do, but you’re different. Your life has just begun.”

Dumbledore's fingers tightened slightly as he held the Potions of Transformation. His gaze returned to the emerald green liquid in the stone basin, his eyes now filled with unwavering determination, devoid of any hesitation.

"Uh"

Dylan vaguely remembered what the solution was for.

Seeing Old Deng's heroic appearance, he finally nodded.

"Since you want to drink, then please drink."

Dumbledore paused, then blinked.

So you're not going to try to persuade them?
(End of this chapter)