Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world

Chapter 114 The True Value of the Greatest White Wizard of This Century

"Now how to do?"

Harry squatted blankly by the bridge outside town, his fingers unconsciously tracing patterns in the stream.

The cool touch of the stream flowing through his fingers sent a shiver down his spine. A gentle breeze blew by, carrying a damp, refreshing coolness from the stream, which seemed to instantly dispel the heat brought by the scorching sun above.

But none of that could alleviate Harry's inner turmoil and confusion.

Where am I now?
what am i doing?
Is all of this real?
These questions remain unanswered. In fact, after leaving the fairytale town and arriving here, he could no longer distinguish between reality and illusion.

For example, the stream in front of me, the mud under my feet, the sunlight overhead, and... the bustling, noisy town not far away.

Could it be that he was unknowingly transported out of Hogwarts by some kind of magic and arrived in some Muggle or wizarding town?
Thinking of this, Harry straightened up slightly and quietly poked half of his head out of the embankment.

Just a few dozen feet away, a vibrant scene unfolds: dirt roads extending from the bridge wind through the town, rows of low houses stand on either side, and many people walk back and forth, some chatting, others arguing loudly.

Vendors set up their stalls and shouted enthusiastically, horse-drawn carriages rumbled through the streets, and a row of dancers glided gracefully by, their heels making rhythmic sounds.

It looks like a bustling but ordinary town, the only problem is that all the "people" are carved from stone!

It was as if the statue had suddenly come to life.

Harry covered his mouth tightly to avoid making a sound and attracting the attention of the stone men. He shrank back under the bridge, his bewilderment deepening.

He didn't believe there was any place in the world where such a group of intelligent beings made of stone existed; if there were, he would have heard of it long ago.

Or Hermione would give him an answer instead of sitting blankly by the stream, turning the paintbrush over and over in her hand like a fool.

Harry could only guess that he was still at Hogwarts, still inside the mechanism guarding the Philosopher's Stone.

But how exactly was all of this achieved?

He couldn't help but look at Hermione. In the past, when he encountered something he couldn't understand, Hermione would always be the first to stand up and help him figure it out, but today, she was clearly also in shock.

Harry thought for a moment, then moved closer to Hermione and gently tugged at her sleeve.

Hermione snapped out of her daze: "Harry, what's wrong?"

“Uh, it’s nothing, I just wanted to say…” Harry wasn’t very good at comforting people. He felt that Hermione might be a little frustrated. She was always the most knowledgeable one in the trio, and now that she was encountering something inexplicable, she was likely to feel frustrated.

Unexpectedly, before he could finish speaking, Hermione said, "If you're asking where we are, I can tell you, we're inside a painting!"

"Huh?" Harry's eyes widened. "A drawing?"

"Yes, do you remember what the narrator said when we left the fairytale town? He said the next scene was called 'The Castle in the Painting,' and..."

With that, Hermione handed the paintbrush to Harry: "And this is proof too."

“How can a paintbrush prove this…” Harry’s subconscious question was cut short as he abruptly stopped, because the moment he took the paintbrush, he saw a crooked, bubble-shaped speech bubble “pop” out of it and stand conspicuously in front of him.

[Wishing Brush: A magical brush used in the world of paintings. When you make a wish to it with sincere faith, it can draw whatever you want!]

[Number of uses: 3/3]

"This……"

Harry was speechless with astonishment.

He reached out to touch the dialog box, but unlike the fairytale town, his finger passed right through it, without any sense of touching anything real.

Looking again at the stream at his feet, feeling the sunlight and the breeze, his features gradually furrowed, and a throbbing pain shot through his head—a sign that his brain was starting to fail him: "Is all of this a painting?"

Hermione nodded slightly.

She understood Harry's surprise and disbelief. When she first discovered it, she couldn't believe it either. But unlike Harry, she had a vague feeling that this challenge was probably deliberately arranged by Dumbledore and Vaughn.

Whether it was the various little props that Vaughn had given him before, or the Phoenix Tears that he had entrusted Guoguo Tea to deliver before he came in.

This all indicates that Vaughn knew she, Harry, and Ron would be in trouble soon.

Combined with Dumbledore and Vaughn's sudden "loss of sanity," they were actually transferred away from Hogwarts by Snape's simple plan.

The "trouble" was probably planned in advance, and it's very likely that it originated from the two of them.

Hermione was lost in thought just now not because she was frustrated or unable to distinguish between reality and illusion. In her opinion, with Dumbledore's magical skills and Vaughn's intelligence, even the most incredible things could be created by them. She was thinking about what Dumbledore and Vaughn's intentions were.
Combining the truth she learned from the centaurs with the group assignments from the previous fairytale town, Hermione quickly figured it out—

Dumbledore and Vaughn hope that Harry and Quirrell... no, they should be said to be going up against the Dark Lord!
She couldn't understand why they would have such terrible ideas and attempts, and what troubled her even more was that she didn't know whether she should tell Harry about it.

Perhaps Dumbledore and Vaughn have some deeper meaning.
Perhaps they are testing something?
Hermione was unaware of the situation. Of course, she wouldn't doubt Dumbledore's intentions and trusted Vaughn implicitly. But Quirrell was ultimately the Dark Lord's henchman, a dangerous dark wizard, and judging from the centaur's prophecy, the Dark Lord might very well be possessing Quirrell.

Is it really okay to put such a terrible guy in the same cage as Harry?
……

Above, in a magically concealed space, Dumbledore sat leisurely on a magical flying carpet, observing with great interest Hermione's constantly changing expression below:
“Miss Granger seems to have discovered something. Was this your oversight? Preparing so many little props for her beforehand, and then sending her Fox’s tears… Darling, this is not what we intended!”

Vaughn remained noncommittal to Old Deng's veiled question. His eyes gleamed with a faint magical light as he focused more on studying the world within the painting. He simply remarked, "She's always been clever. Even without my oversight, she would have noticed the problem. Besides..."

"...Your purpose isn't to test her. In your eyes, only the savior is the most important...Besides, you don't need to worry about Hermione telling Harry and ruining your plans. She's a smart girl, she'll figure it out."

Vaughn's judgment was correct.

Below, by the creek, Hermione hesitated for a moment, but ultimately did not tell Harry her guess. Instead, she leaned out from the embankment and looked around the town.

Harry stood there for a while before he finally snapped out of his shock.

Although everything before one's eyes is incredibly real, it is actually a painting, which feels unbelievable and hard to believe. However, in a world with magic, it doesn't seem unacceptable.

He peeked out cautiously, mimicking Hermione's manner, observing the town as he asked, "What should we do now? The narrator didn't give us a task this time, just told us to enter the town, find a way through, and then get to the castle... How do we get through? Are we just going to walk straight there?"

Looking out over the town, you see stone statues that mimic human behavior and express joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness.

Harry clearly saw that the two stone statues that looked like women arguing in the street suddenly started fighting, and their seemingly slender arms punched a large hole in the brick wall.

"..."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine and realized he needed to think carefully about his strategy.

He looked out over both sides of the town, where vast forests stretched as far as the eye could see. But he felt that the trees were much safer than the violent stone statues. "Hermione, shall we go around the town?"

Hermione, who had been observing silently, didn't comment on his suggestion, but instead asked, "Do you remember how I rated the last fairytale town?"

Harry paused for a moment, then replied, "You said it looks like a Muggle video game, fixed within a framework, where you go on adventures and complete levels according to game rules and clues..."

“Yes, Dumbledore and Vaughn created this place, they…”

“Wait!” Harry interrupted her, his expression one of astonishment. “Dumbledore and Vaughn created this place? Vaughn Weasley?”

“That’s right, Vaughn!” Hermione paused, then continued, “I don’t know how much he was involved, but what we’re going through right now has very obvious Muggle video game elements, so it must have been his idea.”

As she spoke, she looked at Harry: "Especially that logic puzzle from the last round, very few wizards could understand it, including Dumbledore."

Harry was speechless. Thinking about it carefully, the previous puzzle about finding a guide really didn't seem like something a wizard could come up with, or rather, it didn't seem like something a traditional wizard could come up with.

Dumbledore, along with the school's professors, were undoubtedly very traditional wizards.

Hermione continued, "You studied magic with Vaughn, so you should know him better than I do. His personality is... wicked. When you're under his control and he's dictating how you'll proceed, you'd better do as he says, otherwise..."

Otherwise what?
Hermione didn't say anything, but Harry immediately recalled the days when he was tormented by virtual personalities and couldn't help but shudder.

Looking at the forests on both sides of the town, I immediately felt that they were gloomy and terrifying, filled with an ominous atmosphere.

"Well then, let's follow the narrator's instructions and walk through the town..."

Before he could finish speaking, Harry heard a cracking sound from the sky.

A violent flash of lightning illuminated the sky and earth in a vast expanse of white. Thick bolts of lightning tore through the sky, crossed the town, and struck the forest on the other side with a series of crackling sounds.

Thick smoke billowed up, and in the distance, one could almost hear screams.

"..."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, then suddenly remembered something and called out, "Ron!"

……

On the other side of the town, in a forest that had been bombarded by lightning and was almost charred, Ron was pale, and his freckles seemed to have become transparent.

He stood shivering between three trees emitting black smoke.

Beside him, the ground, which had been a pile of withered leaves and looked soft and fluffy just seconds before, was now just a pool of black ash, with a disheveled figure curled up and twitching in the ashes.

"I told you, I told you, I knew something was off about that question when it came out. Who but that bastard Vaughn would come up with such a weird question?"

"He must be involved in this! I told you he's wicked and domineering, but you just wouldn't believe me. The narrator told us to go into the town, but you insisted on going through the woods, you..."

"Shut up, Weasley!"

Quirrell sat up, his body convulsing.

He was furious, raising his wand as if he wanted to cast a curse the next second and kill the babbling brat in front of him.

Unfortunately, both he and Ron knew that he dared not use magic anymore.

"That was the third punishment already. If you misuse magic again, do you think you can withstand the next electric shock?"

Ron stared wide-eyed, completely unafraid, seemingly forgetting how he had nearly wet his pants when the lightning struck.

"..." After a moment of silence and panting, Quirrell put away his wand and said through gritted teeth, "Don't forget, I just saved you. If it weren't for my Fire Curse, you would have been dragged into the forest by the Devil Vines!"

"That's because I grabbed your leg. If you hadn't saved me, you would have been dragged in too."

Ron spoke with righteous indignation, and his face, which had turned pale with fright a moment earlier, regained its color.

Quirrell: "..."

He gritted his teeth and kept quiet, lest he be so angered by the redhead that he couldn't help but use his magic.

After catching his breath, Quirrell opened his small bag with his still trembling hands, took out a bottle of potion, uncorked it, and drank it down.

Soon, a tremendous life force surged forth, and the injuries to his body caused by the lightning magic were rapidly healed.

Ron, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes and secretly peered at the medicine bottle in Quirrell's hand, asking casually, "That's a potion made with unicorn blood, right?"

Quirrell glanced at him and scoffed, "You've been to the Forbidden Forest? Did you hear those stupid centaurs say I once coveted unicorn blood?"

Ron retorted stubbornly, "I don't understand what you're talking about. Can't I have figured it out myself?"

"Ha—I've taught you for a year, and I know better than you how well you and dear Harry are doing. The Savior and his henchmen… heh heh, they're nothing but two hopeless idiots!"

Ron blushed at the disdain from the former Ravenclaw academic star, but what struck him even more was the phrase "the savior and his henchmen"!
Quirrell keenly sensed his thoughts, narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing.

He stood up and looked at the town filled with stone statues, where he also saw the destructive power of the fight between the statues.

If he were at his peak, Quirrell would certainly not be afraid of those stone statues that only knew close combat; he had hundreds of ways to toy with them.

However, in a time when magic cannot be used casually, the existence of these stone statues has become the most troublesome problem.

After watching for a moment, Quirrell picked up a stone and threw it far into the town.

The sound of the stone hitting the ground immediately attracted the attention of the two stone statues, who walked heavily to the stone and looked down to examine it.

The next moment, he raised his fist!

dong dong dong-

After a series of muffled thuds, the two stone statues walked away, leaving only a pile of rubble and dust in their place.

"Looks like we'll need some tricks to get in!" Quirrell's expression wasn't too good. He looked at Ron: "Weasley, what's your idea?"

"This town must be a chessboard!"

Ron, looking sullen, still replied, "Those statues look a lot like pieces from Wizards Chess." On the other side of the town, Harry and Hermione made a similar judgment.

Not long ago, Hermione saw lightning strike the forest and guessed that Ron was probably there. Not wanting to delay any longer, she also threw a stone into the town.

After receiving a warm welcome from the town's "residents," the two abandoned their idea of ​​going straight in.

However, they still have some advantages compared to the other group.

"I've always felt that the layout of this town is a bit strange."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione pondered for a moment, then said, "Look at those houses. Every single one is the same size, perfectly square, and evenly spaced... If you think of them as a grid, with the gaps between the houses and the streets as the grid lines, then..."

Before she could finish speaking, Harry understood what she meant, clapped his hands excitedly, and exclaimed, "So, this town is like a giant chessboard, and those statues are the chess pieces! Haha, no wonder they always looked familiar!"

Seeing Harry's excitement, Hermione couldn't help but pour cold water on his enthusiasm: "But we still don't know how to get in!"

"Uh……"

Harry scratched his head, trying to recall his previous experience playing chess with Ron.

After a long pause, he suggested an idea: "Do you think the way to enter the town could be like playing chess?"

Hermione, whose wizard chess skills were terrible, frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, this chessboard town might be some kind of endgame, and the most likely way for us to safely enter it is as a piece, to activate the whole game, and to keep the endgame going!"

Harry found her explanation increasingly convincing and looked at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione looked serious, but was actually bewildered.

But she wouldn't show it; she simply nodded thoughtfully and replied, "Very likely... What are you planning to do?"

Harry was even happier to receive approval: "Of course, we should first see what the endgame is, and then decide how to intervene. If Ron were here, that would be great. He's very skilled. He can deduce the whole thing even if he can't see the whole board. I can't do that. I need to see the positions of all the pieces!"

He slammed his fist in frustration, "Damn it, we forgot to bring a broom!"

Qipan Town is so big that the only way to see the whole picture is to fly up and look down from above.

Just as he was feeling frustrated, Hermione said with a strange expression, "No, we have brooms."

"Huh? You brought it?" Harry glanced at Hermione's handbag instinctively. In his memory, that handbag, which was the same style as Vaughn's, had recently started to resemble a multi-purpose bag.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

Her family isn't the Potters, who can fill Gringotts vaults with Galleons. As a Muggle-born wizard, Hermione can only rely on her student status to exchange a few dozen Galleons for pounds each year, which is barely enough to buy textbooks and reference books.

She doesn't have money to buy a broom.

She held up the paintbrush in her hand and shook it. "Forgot? The wishing paintbrush! We can use it to draw a broom!"

……

"Oh—the clever Miss Granger has already figured out the purpose of the reward from the previous level!"

Looking down at Dumbledore from high above, one feels like a Muggle caught up in a TV series and excitedly clapping and laughing.

"I love your design, Vaughn. The levels are interconnected, and the reward from the previous level is likely to be a power-up for the next level. There's no redundancy or waste, and it's full of fun!"

As he spoke, he asked Vaughn curiously, "These are the ideas you got from Muggle games?"

"To be precise, it's an arcade game."

Although Dumbledore was full of praise, Vaughn was not very excited because, in his opinion, it was actually quite rudimentary and far from what he had originally envisioned.

After all, this world in the painting was not created by him; it was merely an experiment!

He was more concerned with how the world worked than with observing the trials of the savior.

A deep blue light shone in Vaughn's eyes as he observed every trace of movement in the world depicted in the painting.

In his magically inspired eyes, this miracle created by alchemy was revealing its true nature—symbols everywhere!

They float in the air, hide on the earth, run through forests, and flow in streams.

Even the sun hanging in the distant sky is made up of stacked symbols.

This is the most diverse and numerous alchemical creation Vaughn has ever seen. Compared to the symbols the twins used to create the Demon-Friendly Rubber Layer, it is as insignificant as dust!

"...The sun seems to contain 29 symbols, with fire and wind as the base, representing its energy attributes and material form respectively, and 27 as variants, defining its framework, laws, and motion..."

"Air is the same. Wind is the base, and fire, water, and earth are the auxiliary elements, combining to form at least a hundred different symbols, causing air to flow as wind, bringing heat, humidity, and dust, just like reality..."

Various kinds of light were reflected in Vaughn's eyes, which he identified, confirmed, and categorized, and then recorded one by one into his memory archive and the notebook in his hand.

He was like an engineer, disassembling and analyzing a huge and sophisticated instrument, trying to figure out how it worked.

But the more he analyzed and recorded, the more shocked he became. Finally, he couldn't help but ask:

"Albus, how many symbols did you use to create this world in the painting?"

“There are 36 basic symbols and 34272 variants,” Dumbledore replied casually while watching the “plot development” below. “The number of specific symbols is even larger, probably more than 300 million.”

Vaughn looked at him: "You summoned more than 3 million symbols from the ether in just over two months?"

Dumbledore turned around and smiled.

Perhaps it's Deng's eccentric and unreliable nature that makes people subconsciously overlook the terrifying strength he possesses behind his carefree and jovial demeanor.

For example, at this moment, Vaughn once again clearly realized what an alchemy master is, and what the greatest white wizard of this century is!

Of course, it would be better if he didn't say anything.

"So, are you eager to learn? If you're willing to form a blood pact with me, I might consider becoming your mentor!"

Dumbledore, as if tempting Little Red Riding Hood's wolf grandmother, said with a smile.

Upon hearing the Blood Pact, Vaughn, who had initially felt a slight stirring of interest, immediately regained his composure.

"hehe!"

A brief smile conveys both an attitude and leaves a lasting impression.

Dumbledore was actually quite pleased that Vaughn was interested in alchemy.

The longer he spent with him, the more he could feel Vaughn's terrifying talent. No matter what kind of knowledge he had, he could learn it in no time, and no matter what kind of theory or idea he had, he could grasp it immediately.

In his eyes, such intelligence and talent were almost a recipe for becoming the next White Demon King or Black Demon King.

Based on his personal ideals and aspirations, Dumbledore believed that a wizard of Vaughn's exceptional talent should spend his life immersing himself in the pursuit of truth rather than being obsessed with secular power.

The destruction caused by a master alchemist, potion master, or legendary wizard is far less than that caused by an out-of-control ambitious person.

The former's power belongs to the individual; even if magic is advanced to unimaginable heights in the future, it is impossible to destroy Muggles or wizards.

The latter is not necessarily the case. Ambitious individuals can incite divisions, instigate wars, and instill toxic values ​​and hatred into people's hearts. Even if an ambitious individual ultimately fails, the rifts he created will continue to accumulate and be passed down in the hearts of wizards and Muggles.

Then one day, it all exploded!

So when Dumbledore realized that Vaughn had a talent for alchemy and was interested in it, he picked up the skill that had made him famous again after a long time of not making alchemical items.

When Vaughn wanted to explore the ether, he appeared, seemingly reluctant but actually very happy to take on the role of mentor.

Vaughn wanted to use the trial of Harry as an opportunity to see if alchemy could bring his ideas to life, while Dumbledore was just as busy.

What Dumbledore didn't mention was that he also used a Hogwarts treasure in order to successfully create the world in the painting.

Alchemy is based on symbols, but symbols also need corresponding substances to carry them. For example, the demon-friendly rubber layer invented by the twins also requires mithril mercury as a base.

Of course, it's impossible for Dumbledore to develop a material capable of supporting an entire "world" in just two months.

Fortunately, Hogwarts still has some heritage.

Besides the four founders, Hogwarts has nurtured countless wizards over thousands of years. Some of them like to donate their books, notes, and research findings to their alma mater—the school library, which has an extremely rich collection of books, and the terrible mountain of garbage in the Room of Requirement is just the tip of the iceberg.

Such donations typically fall into two extremes: either worthless junk or priceless treasure.

The blank of the world in the painting belongs to the latter, which came from a donation by a graduate alumnus about a hundred years ago.

The unknown alchemist was attempting to imitate an alchemical artifact belonging to Headmaster Fitzgerald—Fitzgerald was the guardian responsible for protecting the secrets of Hogwarts, and during his lifetime, he compiled the Tales of Beedle the Bard, which he had heard in his childhood, into a magic book.

Anyone who reads the words from the book will enter the world within it and undergo the trial of death.

That was the first documented alchemical artifact to construct another "world" outside of reality and the ether.

Unfortunately, for some reason, the book disappeared later, and Fitzgerald also disappeared from the painting in the principal's office.

All of this happened before Dumbledore enrolled, so he didn't know the specifics.

Dumbledore only knew that someone later tried to recreate the Book of Fitzgerald, but the progress was not smooth. He spent most of his life on the material problem—the material that could support a world and more than 300 million symbols was obviously not as "simple and cheap" as Mithril Mercury!
Until that person donated it to his alma mater before his death, the world depicted in that painting, titled "The Trial of Death," had only just begun.

Therefore, after hearing Vaughn's ideas about virtual reality, Dumbledore took out this incalculable treasure, ready to show Vaughn his skills.

But upon hearing Vaughn's ambiguous laughter, Dumbledore was somewhat disappointed.

He really wanted Vaughn to agree and sign a blood pact with him, so that he would give him his complete trust and keep his promise to teach him everything he had ever learned in his life.

Unfortunately, outstanding people always yearn for freedom and spontaneity, and abhor others interfering in their lives and choices.

Just like him in the past!
With a sigh, Dumbledore, who hadn't held out much hope to begin with, said nothing more and looked down again.

The white clouds that appeared from the movement of the symbols floated at the bottom of the magic carpet, but they did not conceal what was happening below, including the booming narration:

"The heroes and the dragons' companions have successfully entered Chessboard Town. Team A's Harry Potter and Hermione Granger have chosen the white side, while Team B's Quirrell and Ron Weasley have moved to the black side. Both sides have replaced the wargaming pieces!"

"This is a brutal battle. There is no room for negotiation or retreat; only fierce fighting. Only by killing the enemy king can we achieve final victory!"

Harry, who used the Wishing Brush to draw a flying broom and flew into the air to observe the chess game, almost simultaneously deduced the key to the endgame with Ron.

The moment the two found the key point, a spell enveloped them and teleported them into the chessboard formation, still according to their previous grouping.

Harry groggily came to his senses. The spell, similar to Apparition, had left his head in a complete mess, as if it had shaken his brain to its core. After a while, he heard someone shout, "Harry! Harry! Wake up!"

Harry patted his head, barely clearing his mind, and looked up!

What came into view made him slightly open his mouth.

At some point, the town, which used to have square houses, was completely transformed into a giant chessboard, flat and vast, stretching out in the field of vision like a plain, giving the illusion that it had no end.

Wisps of mist floated up from the black and white squares, making one feel as if they were in the clouds.

Hermione was not far from him, standing on a huge pillar, like the armor that can be seen everywhere in the corridors of Hogwarts, in a strange pose holding a sword.

That shout just now was from her, and...

Harry looked further into the distance and saw two black pillars standing one in front of the other in the heart of the Black Fence. Two familiar figures were squatting on them, one of whom, a red-haired man, kept calling his name.

"Ron... Ron!"

Harry fully regained his senses and noticed Quirrell, who was next to Ron with his head wrapped in a headscarf.

No… he’s not just Quirrell, he’s the Dark Lord!
"Ron, get away from him right now!"

Harry yelled to call his friend back; he wanted to run over and pull his best friend away from that dangerous guy.

(End of this chapter)