Hogwarts: Becoming the White Lord from Breathing

Chapter 158 Dumbledore's Collapse

"I didn't expect you to be able to refrain from attacking Fudge."

On the top of the Hogwarts tower, Dumbledore and Damon sat on the ground, overlooking the entire Hogwarts landscape—Valentine's Day was just two days away, and excited little wizards could be seen everywhere.

"It would be strange if I made a move, wouldn't it? You've even got your wand in your hand. Do you expect us, master and disciple, to settle this on the spot?"

Damon's voice floated high in the sky, and Dumbledore felt that he couldn't make out the meaning in his words.

"."

He had a clear conscience about all of this.

But after listening to Mortos's passionate speech, seeing Fudge's disheveled state, and witnessing Damon's current carefree attitude...
He admitted that he now feels somewhat guilty.

And this sense of guilt continues to grow to this day.

Facing his disciple whom he hadn't actually taught much, he was unsure what expression to make.

Are we grateful for the silent end of a war?

Or do some like Wizengamots believe that the Ministry of Magic has forever lost a treasure?
"Has Mortos left the grand stage of the Ministry of Magic?"

Dumbledore couldn't help but ask, though he himself couldn't understand the meaning behind his own words.

He recalled the figure standing on the trial table, and Fudge trembling with fear. Had he really thought that such stupidity was the best choice for the Ministry of Magic?

Perhaps he really is getting senile.

"So what if they leave?" Damon himself didn't seem to regret it at all. "Anyway, most of the Death Eaters have been killed, and it's too much trouble for me to go looking for them again."

"Peace has returned to the wizarding world. The radical Caliban Mortos did not become an ambitious usurper. The dangerous third upheaval in the wizarding world has come to an end at the most crucial moment. All is well."

The boy stood up and clapped his hands.

His figure was bouncy, like a diver preparing to jump.

Dumbledore was even more puzzled.

"No regrets?"

"What if I have regrets? You, as my teacher, aren't helping me. I can't just turn my own family against me, can I?"

"What, you've changed your mind? Then let's go back to the Ministry of Magic right now, arrest all those scheming bastards, and whoever opposes us, we'll just gobble them up! I'll do the gobling, you do the killing!"

As if they had gotten to the point, the boy started punching and kicking at the air, as if there were really some enemy in front of him.

If you ignore the fact that he's a wizard, he actually looks quite convincing.

His appearance reminded Dumbledore of the Dueling Club, where a group of young wizards, not even knowing how to use wands, would wrestle with their opponents bare-handed.

Anyone who saw this scene would probably find it hard to associate Damon with the killer who terrified everyone in the Ministry of Magic.

Dumbledore wasn't very capable either.

But at this moment, he did feel a new vitality emanating from his old body, which made him stand up and let out a soft shout.

"Alright, if you'd like, we'll head back to the Ministry of Magic now!"

Even Dumbledore was surprised that he would say such a thing.

What are you going back to the Ministry of Magic for?

Dumbledore hesitated for a very brief moment, then immediately said decisively, "Do what you want to do."

What do you think I want to do?

"Hmm, maybe we should kick Fudge's ass hard with our leather shoes and tell him who really did something wrong?" Damon shook his head.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, leaned closer, and whispered:

"Perhaps you'd like to become Minister of Magic?"

Damon shook his head again.

The tall old man was now in a bit of a predicament.

"You can't possibly want to kill them all, can you? I don't think those people have offended you to that extent."

"I am Damon White now, and Damon White doesn't kill people."

Damon shook his head, his smile suddenly vanishing as he looked at Old Deng seriously.

"None of those things matter to me—"

Dumbledore hadn't expected him to say that, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face—for some reason, his heart suddenly began to pound violently, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time.
He looked at Damon, at the boy staring at him, and said, word by word:

"Throughout this whole affair, only one thing mattered to me—whether Albus Dumbledore approved of my actions and was willing to support me."

That's the most important thing.

Dumbledore was stunned.

Seeing the somewhat speechless expression on his face, Damon laughed again, shaking his head and saying:
"Now I understand what you're thinking. You're the kind of guy who'd betray your own family for the greater good in a critical moment. I can't get too close to you anymore, otherwise, if you ever want to kill me, I won't be able to bring myself to do it to you."

The young man spoke with a smile, as if it were just a joke—but whether it was a joke or not, perhaps even he himself didn't know.

"Will not."

Dumbledore instinctively denied it.

But then he suddenly remembered that battle of the century, a battle even he himself didn't understand. In that crucial fight, how exactly did he defeat Gellert, who possessed the Elder Wand?
Dumbledore, who was in a daze, suddenly felt a lump in his throat!
He tried his best to control himself, but he couldn't suppress the overflowing emotions—emotions about Gellert and Damon.

Damon sensed something was wrong and turned around abruptly, only to see Dumbledore with tears streaming down his face.

"What's wrong?"

"No," Dumbledore repeated.

With tears streaming down his face, he forced a smile as he approached Damon, his voice so hoarse it was almost incoherent:
"I did grip the wand in the Ninth Interrogation Room, but not when you broke free. Fudge said he'd imprison you in Azkaban for twenty years, and I was thinking, how could he dare do that? If you had tried then, I..."

At the last moment, Dumbledore paused again.

Helping Damon take control of the entire Ministry of Magic? That's definitely not something he would do.
"ok, ok, I got it."

Damon reached out and stopped it all.

His smile became much more genuine, and he stood on tiptoe to pat the old man's shoulder:

"Relax, I know what you mean. It's enough that you have this thought for me. We have the closest teacher-student relationship. How could I possibly put you, as my teacher, in a difficult position?"

Forget about this damn Ministry of Magic. With us here, Voldemort won't be able to cause any trouble. Maybe, like you said, Fudge, that good-for-nothing, is actually quite suitable for the Ministry of Magic?

“No, he’s not suitable.” Dumbledore shook his head firmly. “Once you graduate, I will support you to become the new Minister for Magic—if you still wish to be then.”

"That'll take a lot of work—hmm, so I still have five years to play? Not bad, not bad." Meng gently patted the old man's shoulder. "Alright, stop crying. Valentine's Day is coming soon, think about something happy."

"How about you celebrate Valentine's Day too?"

(End of this chapter)