Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world

Chapter 169 The Legendary Wizard!

A quill pen flew up automatically and wrote furiously, quickly recording Vaughn's experiences in a short time.

After he finished writing, Vaughn folded the parchment, put it in the envelope, sealed it, and then took out a phoenix tail feather from his satchel and lit it on the fire.

After waiting for a long time, he finally heard a crackling sound in the air beside him.

pat!

"Gah-"

With disheveled hair and panting heavily, Fox collapsed headfirst, but even in his undignified posture and on the cold, dark ground, he still glared fiercely at Vaughn with his wide-open eyes!

Its menacing appearance made it seem as if it wanted to use its sharp beak to peck open the red-haired man's skull and see what cruel things were inside—

From England to America!

It was summoned from nearly 4000 miles away!

Is this something a human can do?
Still want to deliver a letter? Keep dreaming!

Then it saw Vaughn take a golden bottle, no bigger than a thumb, out of his satchel...

Fox's eyes widened immediately, and the feathers on his neck, which had bristled, instinctively became subdued, as if afraid of frightening the delicious little cutie!

Seeing Fawkes staring intently at the bottle and quickly becoming obedient, Vaughn smiled: "Take the letter to Dumbledore. If Dumbledore replies, bring it back. This bottle of Felix Felicis will be your reward."

Ah this...

After a 4000-mile Phantom Shift, Fox was exhausted and wanted to refuse, but...

The captivating golden sheen of the Felix Felicis almost dyed Fox's pupils the same color. The noble phoenix struggled for a moment, trembling, and stretched out three claws!

"Impossible! Felix Felicis is the most difficult potion to brew, taking at least half a year, and the final product is very small, less than 1 ounce... This kind of bottle can only hold 4 to 5 vials, making it extremely precious and rare!"

"Gah?"

Seemingly surprised that the snacks were so valuable, Fox hesitated for a moment, retracted one of his claws, and then looked at Vaughn firmly:

This is the bottom line!

"No, there's only one!"

"Gah!"

"What's the use of eating so much? In the end, you'll still be reborn in Nirvana."

"quack!"

After some haggling, Vaughn finally agreed to Fox's demands.

Having "extorted" two doses of Felix Felicis, Fawkes felt he had made a huge profit. He then consumed some potions provided by Vaughn to replenish his strength and magic. Full of energy, he grabbed the envelope, flapped his wings, and took flight, disappearing into the air in the blink of an eye.

It still has a 4000-mile journey ahead.

Watching Fox disappear, Vaughn, feeling utterly cheated, rummaged through his satchel, then pulled out a parchment and began writing another letter:

[Dear Professor Snape, it's as if we're meeting in person. The Felix Felicis you sent last time was a great help to me... Enclosed is a probability calculation of the possible outcomes of events under the influence of Felix Felicis, for your reference. Of course, I need more data. If possible, please provide at least 3 ounces more...]

A letter was quickly written, and Vaughn checked it again before folding it up with satisfaction, intending to have Fox "casually" take it back the next time he came over!

As for the self-righteous demands in the letter... isn't that a matter of course?

How could Mr. Vaughn Weasley, the busy WAC president and inventor of the wolfsbane remedy, have time to brew Felix Felicis for a bird?

Anyway, it's summer vacation, and Professor Snape has nothing better to do...

……

“Severus, you're just idling around anyway…”

In Spider's End Alley, the door of the old house was half open, and Snape stood behind it like a ghost, watching Dumbledore, who was shamelessly trying to squeeze in.

He braced himself against the door with one hand, his face expressionless: "No, I'm very busy!"

"Stop joking, I can smell the mold in your house. This kind of living is very unhealthy, Severus, you need to get moving!"

"let go!"

"I don't... Oh dear, what's that, a graduation photo?"

Snape quickly turned around, and the next second, seeing the empty wall behind him, he realized what was happening.

But taking advantage of the opportunity, Dumbledore squeezed in. The old man dusted off the wrinkles in his clothes, breathed a satisfied sigh, and began to lecture: "My dear Severus, you need to correct your thinking. The same tricks always work on you, which is not good!"

"..."

Snape stared with his dark, numb eyes, a bellyful of profanities he wanted to utter.

However, he knew that verbal attacks were useless against that shameless old wizard, so he shook his head, trying to shake off the urge to curse.

Then he saw Dumbledore looking at him with concern:
"Honey, how long has it been since you washed your hair?"

"..."

“I bet Vaughn has been busy lately and hasn’t been sending you shampoo, right? Kid, you should let it go. Besides, the Potter family sold the Smooth Hair Company a long time ago. That brand of shampoo has nothing to do with the Potter family anymore. Why are you holding a grudge against yourself?”

Dumbledore kept rambling on and on.

While expertly rummaging through the cups, chanting incantations to clean them, he then found the tea leaves:
"Ah, lemon black tea, Vaughn's favorite, I knew I could find it here!"

Snape's face darkened. "What is it? If you're just here for fun, then get out of my house!"

"You're being really mean, darling."

"I've been very lenient by not casting a death curse on those who forced their way in."

Dumbledore summoned the kettle, brewed himself a cup of tea, and sat down with a smile on his face on the only recliner in the dimly lit living room, letting out a comfortable sigh.
"I like this chair. I didn't expect you to know how to enjoy yourself."

Snape felt his chest bulge with air, as if it were about to burst.

After teasing him for a while, Dumbledore finally stopped provoking him. He reached into his robes, pulled out a box, placed it on the desk beside him, and gently opened it:

"I came here to show you this."

Although he was annoyed, Snape still came over when he saw Dumbledore talking about serious matters.

By the dim light of a few flickering flames on the ceiling of the living room, he saw a simple, antique-looking ring lying in the half-open box.

The ring is entirely golden, engraved with patterns that resemble ripples and scales, and at first glance, it looks like a snake biting its own tail.

At the intersection of the "head" and "tail", a black gemstone with heraldic engravings on its surface is set.

Snape knew little about heraldry and engraving, and couldn't tell what the patterns represented. Moreover, he knew that what Dumbledore had shown him wasn't the origin of the ring, but rather the spell cast upon it.

After observing for a moment, Snape took out his wand and poked it again.

As the tip of the staff touched the ring, a few wisps of black smoke rose out.

Snape frowned: "A very insidious curse..."

Dumbledore nodded: "Yes, it came from a powerful dark wizard."

"You want me to untie it? You've come to the wrong person. I don't have that ability."

“No.” Dumbledore shook his head. “Before coming here, I consulted an expert on dark magic, and his answer made it clear to me that this curse cannot be lifted by ordinary means… unless a special method is used.”

Snape, who was still slowly using his wand to cast various spells and experiment with the ring, looked up upon hearing this:
"any solution?"

"Put on the ring and transfer the curse to a person." Dumbledore said, looking expectantly at Snape, "Severus, if we do that, do you have a way to heal the damage it caused with a potion?"

"...?"

A huge question mark flashed through Snape's mind. He stared at Dumbledore, almost thinking the other had gone mad: "Do you know what you're talking about?"

"Of course, of course, I know it's dangerous, but..."

boom!
Snape waved his wand, closed the box, his face ashen. "No buts! What do you think a curse is? A cold? Scabies? Or what do you think I am? A Muggle's wish-granting machine? Or the omnipotent God that Muggles talk about?"

As he spoke, he curled his lip in a mocking gesture: "Oh, yes, it could also be Albus Dumbledore, the great White Lord who thinks he's more powerful than the legendary God, and that a mere curse can't harm him at all?"

Dumbledore sighed, "Severus, you know that's not what I meant. I was asking you for advice..."

"No, you want my support!"

Snape bluntly exposed him: "I support you putting the ring on your hand and transferring that damned curse onto yourself, so that you can have the ring!"

"..."

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore's expression visibly somber. "So, you can't do it either?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr. White Demon King!"

Snape said sarcastically and maliciously, "Of course, I have another idea. Maybe you could find a Muggle, put the ring on his hand, transfer the curse to him, and then kill him. The curse might disappear. Do you want to give it a try?"

Dumbledore smiled wryly; Grindelwald had also mentioned this method to him.

But it's obvious he can't do it!

Undeterred, he asked again, "Really not going to work?"

Snape shook his head, his face stern. "Although its exact effects are still unclear, I can tell from the residual magic on it that once you're cursed, I can only extend your life for a short time at most..."

Dumbledore looked up hopefully.

This infuriated Snape. He thought he had already made it very serious, but the other party still clung to naive fantasies. So he stopped holding back and mocked, "Stop daydreaming. At most, it will be extended by one or two months, just enough time for you to decide where to bury me. You won't even have time to think about an epitaph!"

“Oh, I have a good idea. The epitaph could read: Albus Dumbledore, a legendary wizard of unparalleled wisdom, who died a foolish death!”

Although deeply disappointed, Snape's final sarcastic remark still made Dumbledore burst into laughter:

"If I really die someday, you can add that line, hahaha—"

snort!
Snape snorted, unable to comprehend what was hidden beneath Dumbledore's aged head.

It must be something disgusting!

While silently complaining, he looked at the box again, full of doubts—what exactly was that ring? Why did Dumbledore value it so much?
Noticing his gaze, Dumbledore's smile faded, and he was about to say something when he suddenly stopped.

A short while later, a small flame appeared in the dim air of the living room, burning brightly. The next second, with a crackling sound, Fox, whose feathers looked charred, fell out of the air, barely alive.

Dumbledore quickly caught it, and seeing it, Fawkes raised a trembling paw, to which was attached a letter:

"Gah~~~"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then took the letter.

Snape appeared indifferent, but he secretly craned his neck to glance at the envelope, and then he couldn't stay calm.

He was all too familiar with the cursive script on the envelope.

"Is it a letter from Vaughn?"

Considering that Vaughn had already led a delegation to North America, Snape, who had recently started paying attention to North American news, knew all too well how dangerous that land was.

Looking at Fawkes, who was so exhausted he was almost out of breath, Snape broke out in a cold sweat. Was there danger over there?
Once the thought popped into his head, he couldn't shake it off. Snape forced a poker face, his heart filled with anxiety as he watched Dumbledore open the letter.

Dumbledore paid no heed to Snape's concerns.

His attention was now completely focused on the envelope—it was enchanted!
Normally, it wouldn't be redundant for Vaughn to communicate with him, since it was Fawkes who delivered the messages to the two of them. Although this phoenix looks like a chicken and is often teased and bullied by Vaughn, as one of the top predators among magical creatures, its own magical abilities are actually very powerful.

Not to mention ordinary wizards, many Aurors are no match for it.

The spell covers the entire envelope. It is not powerful in itself, but it will immediately destroy itself and the letter if the person opening the letter does not follow the procedure!

In its outward appearance, it is a lacquer sealant, outlined in the shape of lips.

It slowly opened under Dumbledore's gaze: "Please answer the password, Vaughn Weasley's opinion on British cuisine?"

Yes, a password spell, something commonplace at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore thought for a moment and replied, "Terrible, unbearable!"

Upon hearing this, the lip-like sealant melted and peeled away, revealing the seal.

The password was obviously correct!

Snape looked bewildered. Noticing his puzzled expression, Dumbledore chuckled, “Although Vaughn grew up in England, he hates English food and has a particular fondness for East Asian cuisine… Oh—he didn’t even tell you? I thought you two were very close, and you should have known about his little quirk.”

Snape, his face lighting up, retorted, "Yeah, not as good as you two. Maybe you should show that ring to Vaughn; he'll definitely urge you to put it on and then hurry up and die!" "Sorry to disappoint you, Severus, it was only because of Vaughn's warning that I handled the ring so cautiously. To be honest, if he hadn't been so opposed, I would have succumbed to its temptation long ago..."

Ok?
Snape felt he must have heard something incredible.

However, he had no time to care about the truth; he watched eagerly as Dumbledore took out the letter and unfolded it.

The letter seemed to contain a lot of information, densely covered with Vaughn's beautiful cursive handwriting, but it was unclear what it described. As Dumbledore looked at the letter, he gradually frowned.

After a while, seeing that Old Dumbledore's brows were furrowing deeper and deeper, yet he remained silent, Snape finally spoke up, "Vaughn... what's wrong? You seem troubled!"

"what……"

Dumbledore gave a perfunctory reply and continued flipping through the letter.

After browsing the last page, Snape's face turned ashen with anxiety. He then said thoughtfully, "...He encountered a wizard and asked me if I knew him."

That's it?

Snape asked, puzzled, "What's your name?"

“That’s the problem. He said his name was DeSantis, and Vaughn guessed that I should have met him at the Federation… but I don’t remember anyone like that…”

Although Snape always called Dumbledore "senile," he knew very well that as the master of Legilimency, Dumbledore could not possibly forget anything.

“That means ‘DeSantis’ is a fake name,” he guessed matter-of-factly.

Dark wizards love doing this kind of thing; it's something they're very good at!
Dumbledore nodded: "There are wizards with that surname, but they are a small family in Italy with almost no presence, and they haven't developed any branches in North America."

"So, what did Vaughn consult you about? Is he worried that your legendary wizard might have some connection with a dark wizard, which could damage your image?"

Hearing Snape's sarcasm, Dumbledore simply smiled and handed him the letter.

Snape took it, and the first thing he saw made his pupils shrink:
[...He couldn't possibly be an unknown figure. His memory magic, in my opinion, is almost on par with yours, especially that memory object, which is remarkably similar to a real life form...]

[...His organization is called the Brotherhood of Arcane Arts. From our brief conversation, I learned that this organization has likely existed for a long time, but before coming to North America, I reviewed a large amount of information, including the North American intelligence on the Federation that you provided me, and this organization has never appeared before...Could his curse truly have such a profound impact?]

Snape quickly skimmed through the letters, growing increasingly bewildered with each reading.

Although Vaughn did not say it in the letter, his words implied that the existence of "DeSantis" was beyond reason!

After reading the letter, Snape returned it in a daze. He stared at Dumbledore, who was deep in thought, his Adam's apple bobbing dryly a few times, and asked, "A legendary wizard living in anonymity? Are there other legendary wizards in the world?"

In the magical world, legend is not a title of honor, but rather a name that refers to a certain level of attainment!

Of course, in reality, there is no such thing as a realm division. A realm division needs to be quantifiable, but whether in Muggle society or the magical world, there is no quantifiable basis for the depth of a person's abilities or the strength of their magic.

You can't simply point to a scientist and categorize their knowledge into levels 1, 2, 3, and 4. Exams can only reflect theory and exam experience, but in other aspects of knowledge, such as practice and research, there is no clearly quantifiable line for determining the level of expertise.

The same applies to magic. Where is the precise line drawn for a spell? How can the magical power within a wizard be quantified into numerical values? Even if it is quantified, can the numerical values ​​reflect the essential differences between them?
No!

In essence, a young wizard, from the moment of magical upheaval, is no different from any adult wizard in terms of life form and quality.

In a general sense, wizards see only three kinds of people in the world: Muggles, Squibs, and wizards!

Muggles represent a species that lacks magic and spellcasting abilities, while Squibs possess magic but cannot cast spells, making them an awkward middle ground.

A wizard is a wizard; there is no distinction between high and low!

Of course, this is not an absolute truth. There are indeed some rare cases among wizards—when a wizard's magic reaches a very high level, his nature will change.

The problem is that this is still a result that cannot be quantified!

Snape's mind conjured up the names of the legendary wizards he knew best, the first being Merlin, of course.

He had almost become an icon of the English wizarding world, but that was a long time ago.

Next up is Nicolas Flamel, Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, and... Voldemort!

Snape was "lucky"—he served two of the four legendary wizards he knew!
But it's meaningless. What do these wizards have in common? He only knows they are powerful, but what exactly makes them powerful?

As a legendary wizard, is Nicolas Flamel more powerful?

But Snape had heard that this very long-lived old wizard was as fragile as a porcelain doll, easily broken at the slightest touch.

Therefore, Snape had no way of knowing whether Vaughn's implication was truly that possibility!
When Snape asked him this, Dumbledore pondered for a moment and shook his head:
"I have no idea……"

He paused, then continued, "You asked me this before, and my answer is still the same: I don't know exactly how to reach the legendary level... It's not like a real path where you just keep walking and you'll definitely reach the end..."

"To put it specifically, it's like you're walking down the path of magic, and for some reason you can't move forward anymore. There's only emptiness ahead, and you can't see any trace of the path."

Snape was very familiar with this passage; he had asked Dumbledore about it years ago when his magic began to stagnate, and he still remembered the rest of the conversation.

How did you keep going?

"It's indescribable, Severus. I only remember one day when I suddenly could see the road ahead again..."

Unlike that time, Dumbledore added another sentence today: "It felt like... a leap? That's the word Vaughn told me, and I think it's very fitting. Some kind of sudden opportunity allowed me to leap over that void and find my way again!"

He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing even deeper: "There were no signs, no symptoms, no basis for any discernment."

Snape remained silent.

This answer was both unexpected and expected. It's very easy for a wizard to hide himself; Snape knew a famous example—Azkaban!
It once belonged to a powerful wizard who hid on Azkaban Island, luring sailors to conduct human experiments, and ultimately creating the disgusting life form that is the Dementor.

Azkaban is located in the North Sea, practically right under the Ministry of Magic's nose, yet the Ministry has remained unaware of it for many years.

It wasn't until many years after his death, when the magic that had enveloped the island had worn off, that the Ministry of Magic belatedly realized what was happening!

"So, based on Vaughn's description, how likely do you think it is?"

Dumbledore didn't say anything more.

But that serious expression was enough to answer the question.

Snape stood there, a jumble of thoughts racing through his mind. He murmured, "If that really was a legendary wizard..."

"That means the situation in North America may be more complex than we anticipated, and Vaughn will be in great danger there..."

Dumbledore said calmly and "cruelly".

He ignored Snape's devastated expression and had no more interest in asking about potions. Clutching the stack of letters, he left a note: "Sorry, Severus, I have to go visit an old friend. We'll talk another day."

After saying that, he picked up the still dying Fox and hurriedly left.

Snape was left standing there, stunned and helpless, the air currents from Apparition spreading through the dim room, ruffling his robes, but he remained oblivious...

……

Austria.

The Alps meander through this small country, and if viewed from above, the lines of the mountains and hills resemble blood vessels, spreading across most of the land.

In this mountainous country, human traces have been greatly compressed by the wonders of nature; as far as the eye can see, there are only vast, desolate mountains and forests.

Crack!

Holding Fawkes, Dumbledore Apparated and appeared on a mountainside. Because of the mountain's high altitude, the dark rocks were covered with snow, which further highlighted its cold and austere temperament.

"Gah~~~~~"

Seemingly stimulated by the cold temperature, Fox struggled to lift his head. His vision was a blur of black and white, and the rugged, winding mountains made him even more exhausted. He listlessly buried his head back into Dumbledore's arms.

"Go to sleep, get some rest, it'll be warm soon."

Comforting himself, Dumbledore drew his wand, cast a spell on himself, and then braved the snow and cold wind to continue his arduous journey.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, the surrounding trees became increasingly sparse, the snow thickened, and the howling wind felt like knives. Finally, Dumbledore saw a tower between the ice and snow and the mountain walls ahead.

It's like this mountain, with its pitch-black base interspersed with the white of snow, cold and austere!

And there was also desolate ruins!
The tower's walls looked like they hadn't been maintained for a long time; some areas were weathered and peeling, pitted and cracked, with faint traces of snow.

The gate, adorned with intricate carvings, now shows signs of decay due to weathering, its carvings and paint fading further contributing to its dilapidated state. Only above the gate, a line of text can still be faintly discerned:

For the Greater Good

“Niumongard…”

Dumbledore murmured the name of the tower. Although this was the second time he had come here in a short period of time, the complexity in his heart had not diminished in the slightest.

Yes, this is Nurmengard Castle.

This is the tower where Gellert Grindelwald, who stirred up the world decades ago, is imprisoned!
Actually, just over ten years ago, this place didn't look so dilapidated.

At that time, the tower was crowded with Aurors—English, French, Austrian…most European countries sent powerful Auror troops to be stationed here.

"But time is the most terrifying spell of oblivion!"

This was a quote from Vaughn, which Dumbledore unconsciously borrowed. As time passed, people gradually forgot Grindelwald's imposing presence.

Because Grindelwald is also gradually being abandoned by time...

senescence!
death!

Just like countless Muggle and magical figures throughout history, heroes and demon kings alike, none can escape the arrival of their end.

However, Gellert's end came a little too soon...

A faint sadness lingered in his heart. After a while, Dumbledore composed himself, slowly pushed open the door, and stepped into the dark doorway of the tower.

This place hasn't been maintained for over a decade. Ever since Gellert rapidly weakened and gradually lost his magic, Europe completely lifted its imprisonment of him.

The Aurors have all vanished, and the once numerous Saints have never appeared again.

Now, all that remains here is ice and snow, the desolate, biting wind that cuts through the land, endless despondency, loneliness, decay, and...

Dumbledore took a few more steps.

As if he had passed through some barrier, the darkness in front of him suddenly receded, and a twilight-like light gradually filled his eyes.

Silent, tranquil, and settled.

It was as if time had stood still!

Solidified within the amber...

"Ah—you're here again, Albus..."

The first thing you see is a courtyard. Unlike the cold and desolate landscape outside, which is covered in snow and ice, this courtyard is filled with amber light and many flowers are in full bloom.

They stood peacefully in the flowerbed, without swaying at all, like faded photographs, giving one a sense of emptiness, as if they could be shattered at any moment.

But Dumbledore knew that it was not an illusion.

From the depths of the flowerbed came a voice of greeting. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw a pavilion vaguely emerging from among the flowers and plants.

A gaunt old man sat in the pavilion, deep in thought, facing a game of chess with unfinished pieces.

Dumbledore walked over quietly: "It's me, Gellert."

The old man didn't look up. The light shining from the side cast deep shadows on his wrinkled face. He stared at the chessboard, hesitating about his next move, and asked indifferently, "Is there anything else? If it's still that ring, I advise you to give up."

As he spoke, he seemed to have finally made up his mind, and gently picked up a chess piece.

His movements were slow, and his withered hands trembled slightly, as if even this little activity would consume his already limited strength.

Dumbledore's deep blue eyes dimmed slightly. He remained silent for a moment, then stepped forward, took his hand, and helped him place the chess piece.

"Thank you," he said.

"……You're welcome……"

This unfamiliar and distant conversation left Dumbledore somewhat dazed, but he quickly regained his composure, sat down opposite Grindelwald, placed Vaughn's letter next to the chessboard, spread it out, and pushed it in front of him.

Grindelwald finally raised his head, the shadow of the light disappeared, and what appeared before Dumbledore was a face that was as old as ever.

"what is this?"

"A letter a child sent me, take a look. I'd like to ask you about the situation mentioned in it."

“Oh,” Grindelwald responded casually, his hand trembling as he parted the stack of letters. “Is it that little wizard named Vaughn Weasley?”

"Ok!"

"It seems he's quite favored by you. Over the years, you've only done this for two people: once was Harry Potter, because you felt guilty towards that boy. So, what's the reason for Vaughn Weasley?"

(End of this chapter)