Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world

Chapter 193 Legendary Wizards

"...Despicable, shameless, cunning villain, he dumped me and that bastard outside the city, in the middle of nowhere, with no help and not even a ghost around..."

“You don’t have any help, and neither does he. I think you already have a great advantage.”

"You still have the nerve to say that? What exactly did you do to that DeSantis? He kept yelling your name, his eyes were blazing with fire, and he fought like a madman. Look at my face!"

"It's just a piece of skin that's burned off, at least you're still alive."

"Just? At least?"

"Calm down. Look, you let Jack Graves go, and I didn't say anything to you. How dare you hold a grudge against me?"

“…Vaughn Weasley, if we weren’t still in an alliance, and if the current situation weren’t unsuitable for infighting, I would be casting a death curse on you right now!”

As I was listening, the argument inside the room suddenly stopped.

Then, the door opened silently, exposing Donald, who was standing outside, to the view of the two people inside.

Inside the door was the suite's living room, which shared the same luxurious style as the bedroom Donald had previously slept in. The room was also very well-lit, with the bright sunlight illuminating every detail.

A desk was placed directly opposite the door, and Vaughn Weasley was hunched over it, writing something on a sheet of paper.

On the sofa on the other side of the desk, Babajid Akinbad, holding a glass of wine, glared at Donald with an unfriendly expression: "What are you doing sneaking around outside, you Graves kid?"

Donald ignored him, limped in, and looked at Vaughn: "You didn't catch Jack Graves?"

Vaughn, who was writing a letter, looked up, glanced at him, and then looked at Akinbad.

Akinbad took a big gulp of his drink, turned around, and only then did Donald notice that the other man looked extremely disheveled, his hair a mess as if he had just been hit by firecrackers.

His robe was tattered and torn, looking utterly ravaged. A large patch of skin on his left cheek was almost charred, and the wound was surrounded by disgusting blisters.

It's unimaginable what a difficult battle this veteran wizard must have faced.

So it's no wonder he was in a bad mood. After downing his drink, he started cursing: "You still have the nerve to question me about why I didn't catch anyone? I think you Graves are a bunch of useless trash, idiots, and blind men. You deserve what you got!"

"..."

Already in a bad mood due to the heavy casualties among his clan, Donald barely managed to suppress his anger, but his tone was still somewhat out of control, containing a hidden threat: "I expect you to respect the Graves family, Mr. Akinbad, even if you are the vice president of the Federation..."

"What? The esteemed Graves wants to arrest me? I'll just call you trash, so what? You didn't even know your own people had something implanted in their brains by a master of memory magic? What are you if not trash?"

"you--"

"All right!"

Vaughn stopped the two from arguing.

Vaughn, who had been engrossed in writing, stopped and looked at Donald Graves and Akinbad, who had stopped arguing at his command.

Both of them were a bit heated, but for different reasons. Rather than arguing, they were venting their frustrations.

Needless to say, Akinbad was suddenly pulled into the battlefield by Vaughn last night. He didn't pay much attention to it at first, but he didn't expect that a "small" Federation Auror captain would almost cause him to lose.

Most likely, they feel embarrassed and are taking it out on others!

As for Donald... after betraying and killing so many Aurors last night, the fact that he didn't have a mental breakdown when he woke up shows that he has a strong mentality.

After a pause to allow the two to calm down, Vaughn said, "We didn't want to see Jack Graves escape, but you are both mature wizards now and should understand that this is not the time to argue and pursue so-called responsibility."

"The important thing now is to take stock of the losses, resolve the aftermath of last night's battle, and at the same time gather clues and investigate the inside story. Otherwise, even if you all argue here today, will you be able to catch Jack? Will you be able to uncover the mastermind behind him? Will you be able to track down those people? What if they have a bigger plan?"

After listening silently for a while, Donald's anger subsided considerably, and he asked in a hoarse voice:
"Speaking of intelligence, I heard you mention DeSantis before? Who is he? How did he get here?"

Before Vaughn could answer, Akinbad said sarcastically, "How did it come about? You should ask the Graves family that. I think that kid named Jack Graves has been parasitized for quite a while now. Who knows how many people in your family are like him now!"

Once he calmed down, Donald ignored him and just looked at Vaughn.

Vaughn didn't hide anything and said, "It's a mental life form. You can think of it as a living memory, except that this memory was implanted into Jack Graves's mental world by another memory magic master. It's like that master's clone."

Upon hearing this, Donald felt a chill run through him and couldn't help but ask, "So, Jack..."

He glanced at him and shook his head: "The real Jack Graves, in a sense, is still alive, but now he is just the shell of that spiritual life, a puppet, and every thought of his is controlled by the other party."

Donald stood there, dumbfounded.

He hadn't studied memory magic much, but as a wizard, he'd had some exposure to it. Although he'd never heard of any kind of psychic life before, he was quite familiar with another type of magic in the magical world that had a similar function:
Imperius Curse!
Only now did he understand that Akinbad's sarcastic remarks were not just sarcasm.

In an instant, countless thoughts surged through his mind. His throat tightened, and he asked, "Does it have any distinguishing features...?"

Before he could finish speaking, Vaughn shook his head: "No, such a spell didn't exist in the magical world before. I still don't even know what it is. The first time I discovered it, it was parasitizing a wizard's memory. The second time was with Jack Graves; it was parasitizing Jack's dream... Crossing from the first level of consciousness to almost the second level of consciousness is a completely different concept..."

Vaughn's explanation came to an abrupt halt as he noticed that Donald looked confused and probably didn't understand what he was saying.

The theory of the Golden Soul is not something that all wizards study.

This is perfectly normal. As knowledge systems develop, they will inevitably become more specialized, just like the specialization of subjects in Muggles. Not every wizard is proficient in every type of magic; some specialize in white magic, some in black magic, and some in transfiguration.

Even Dumbledore, hailed as one of the greatest white wizards in history, was a complete novice when it came to potions and divination.

Therefore, he didn't explain further, but simply said, "In short, Akinbad is right. If you're willing to take my advice, I suggest you go back and thoroughly investigate the situation within your 12 Purebloods."

"in addition……"

As he spoke, Vaughn turned to look out the window. “Now that you’re awake, you’d better get back to Woolworth as soon as possible. They’re probably going crazy over there. Ever since I dealt with the nuclear bomb this morning, Dreamcatcher has been frantically spying on the city… I don’t like this feeling.”

Donald seemed somewhat dazed, whether from the shock of the death toll of his men or from Vaughn's words just now.

Fortunately, he was still somewhat conscious and knew that Vaughn was right. The most urgent thing now was not to dig deeper, but to return to Congress as soon as possible and report on what happened last night.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley..."

Donald quickly took his leave. Before leaving, he hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I cannot make any decisions on behalf of the family, but I will personally remember your help. Please rest assured that I will do my best to resolve any misunderstandings between the family, Congress, WAC, and the Federation."

After saying this, he bowed slightly and left in a hurry.

After he left, Akinbad, who had been drinking silently, snorted, "Hmph, misunderstanding? He's just a cunning fellow with no opinions of his own."

"How many wizards in the world are as resolute and decisive as you?" Vaughn flattered with a smile.

Akinbad glared at him irritably: "Stop being sarcastic. You wouldn't tell me when that Graves kid was around, but now you can tell me, right? What exactly is this DeSantis?"

“I already said it, a spiritual life.”

"Nonsense! Do you think I don't know what life created by wizards looks like? The origins of Dementors are a secret to other countries, but the Federation knows them. They may have some strange abilities, but they certainly don't have magic as powerful as DeSantis's!"

Akinbad became increasingly agitated as he spoke:

“Look at my face. Although I underestimated it, the fact is that when you teleported us away, I was initially completely overwhelmed by it... Its creator was definitely not an ordinary wizard!”

"But you eventually defeated it, otherwise it wouldn't have run away."

Vaughn spoke in a lighthearted tone.

"Bullshit!" Akinbad couldn't help but curse. "I'm Dumbledore's second-in-command, the closest wizard in the Alliance to becoming a Legendary. If I can't even defeat a mind-body that's like an avatar, what face do I have to live in this world? I like straightforwardness, understand, kid? Tell me, which Legendary is he?"

"..."

Vaughn didn't answer, but gently shook his head: "I'm not sure yet, Akinbad. Although I tricked it in the mind world, its behavior doesn't seem like what I know it to be..."

"Damn it! I hate riddles!"

"me too."

.........

"My dearest Albus Percival Woolfrick Bryan Dumbledore... forgive me for addressing you so formally, my cold friend. I thought I would receive your reply soon after my last letter, but you did not give me a definite reply afterward. Unfortunately, I have once again encountered Mr. DeSantis, who is parasitizing an Auror in the Graves family and manipulating that Auror to carry out a series of heinous plots..."

Mr. Akinbad, who disliked riddles, left.

Vaughn finally had time to consider his letters again.

The nib of the high-end fountain pen, with its excellent elasticity, glided across the parchment, ink spreading and blurring. Vaughn continued writing, lost in thought:
"...The existence of spiritual life amazed me; it even overwhelmed dear Akinbad to the point that he began to doubt life itself. This display of power should theoretically have strengthened my suspicions from the previous letter, but in reality, after actually experiencing it, I became somewhat confused by the views it discussed..."

"It's unclear at the moment whether DeSantis's remarks represent his true thoughts, or whether, after being created, he developed his own independent thought as a true living being. That kind of despairing extremism is hard to imagine coming from the mouth of a once legendary wizard, so all of this remains to be verified, and you'll need to go to the castle to see for yourself..."

“DeSantis’s presence has disrupted my plans to some extent. I will remain in Boston for the time being, awaiting your investigation and the Magical Congress’s final decision. These are undoubtedly difficult and dangerous days. The thought of Jack Graves escaping and possibly returning with a legendary wizard makes me feel sorry for Harry—”

"How pitiful. Someone who might be able to free him from the shackles of fate could very well die in a foreign land because of the heartless indifference of some old wizard. And his and Tom's fates are about to fall into an inescapable vicious cycle. Just thinking about it makes one feel sad..."

Vaughn paused here.

"...Wouldn't that be too direct a threat?" After silently considering the wording, Vaughn decided to add a more subtle sentence:
"And Tom's carefully prepared toys, it's strange, the human brain always becomes exceptionally clear in danger. My muddled brain just happened to recall the whereabouts of a new toy. If you can't find it, Tom will come back to life with a smile even if he dies, right?"

Yes, that would be more tactful.

Vaughn nodded in satisfaction and decided to continue writing along this line of thought, revealing the function of Tom's next toy, which might appear in a dilapidated castle called Hogwarts.

By the time the letters were finished, a thick stack of parchment had been accumulated.

The inscription was signed, "Yours faithfully, kindly, and warmly, Vaughn Septimus Weasley."

The feeling of completing the task in one go was exhilarating. Vaughn folded the letter, put it in an envelope, and then lit a phoenix tail feather.

Shortly after, Matthew, having just finished tidying up the room and preparing to contact the hotel, passed by Mr. Weasley's suite and overheard a strange conversation coming from inside:

"...It must be handed over to Dumbledore; it cannot be entrusted to anyone else."

"Gah?"

"Reward? Didn't I already give you a Felix Felicis last time?"

"Gah!"

“Greedy fellow, alright, alright, I’ll write another letter to Snape. I’ve left all my potions with him.”

"Gah gah!" "How could you slander Professor Snape? He will definitely give it to you, and if he doesn't, when you bring back your reply, I'll write another letter to scold him for you!"

Having received Mr. Weasley's assurance, the other creature, which could only "caw," seemed quite satisfied, its joy almost overflowing from its cries.

Matthew, standing outside the door, scratched his head.

He felt like something was off...

……

Hogwarts, which had been quiet for nearly two months as the holidays were coming to an end, was finally bustling again with the early return of fifth and seventh-year students who were preparing for exams.

The afternoon sun shone brightly and warmly in the castle courtyard, and the wind blowing from the North Sea up to the Scottish Highlands no longer carried a biting chill.

Such weather is rare for Hogwarts, which is surrounded by mountains and has extremely high humidity in the summer. On this rare sunny day, even the fifth and seventh-year students, who are focused on studying for their exams, did not stay in the library but gathered in twos and threes in the courtyard.

Let the sun warm your head, which is almost drowning in the ocean of knowledge, and you'll think that school is paradise on earth.

Then, when they saw Snape walking along the corridor, his robes trailing on the ground, looking like a giant bat, their reverie of Wonderland came to an abrupt end, and their minds instantly cleared.

Ignoring the fearful looks in the young wizards' eyes, Snape floated down the corridor with a sullen face, passing by the noisy portraits he loathed, and exchanging a disgusting whisper with the hideous dripping statue outside the headmaster's room.

He arrived at the principal's office, which made him want to vomit!

"Get to the point quickly," Snape said impatiently to Dumbledore, who was sitting behind his huge desk, wearing crescent-shaped glasses and reading a letter. "If it's still about that ring, I advise you to give up. Of course, if you insist on wearing it, I don't care. Anyway, I'm not the one who's going to die."

Unlike usual, Dumbledore lowered his head and looked at the letter for a while before raising his head: "I have temporarily given up on the matter of the ring, Severus. I called you here only because I have some questions about potions that I would like to ask you."

"Say!"

Snape was a man of few words.

Ignoring his attitude, Dumbledore, with the sunlight streaming in through the French windows, slowly stroked the letter in his hand. After a moment of thought, he asked, "I want to know... is there any kind of potion that can prevent a wizard from dying at the end of his lifespan?"

"..."

Snape's facial muscles twitched, as if he was trying hard to control himself from revealing a mocking smile: "Albus, did you accidentally get bathwater in your head while taking a bath yesterday?"

"Hmm—probably not."

"What a pity, I was just about to find an excuse for you, to make up for why you would ask such a stupid question!"

With a smirk, Snape said sarcastically, "The great Dumbledore, who controlled the Philosopher's Stone for a whole semester, and now asks me if there are any potions that can rival the Philosopher's Stone... It's so touching that my mind goes blank, and I can't help but want to laugh at him."

As if he hadn't heard his sarcastic remarks, Dumbledore, still deep in thought, remained silent for a moment before continuing, "So, among the spells you've heard of, is there any that can achieve such an effect? ​​I don't care about the side effects; I just want to know if it's even possible."

Snape was getting a little impatient.

"If you're bored, I suggest you take off your clothes and jump into the Black Lake for a swim to kill some of your excess leisure time, instead of coming to me for entertainment. I still have a lot of medicinal herbs to process for the new semester's teaching, I don't have time to play tricks with you..."

"Grindelwald is dying!"

Dumbledore's sudden words left Snape speechless.

After a moment of stunned silence, he said dryly, "This is truly...unexpected news..."

“Not surprising,” Dumbledore murmured. “Starting a few years ago, some strange phenomena began to appear around him… the kind of phenomena that only appear when a legendary wizard reaches the end of his life… During this stage, a legendary wizard will grow weaker day by day, as if the world is eliminating a piece of trash that is destined to be useless. His body will lose its magic, his soul will gradually become unable to adapt to magic, and his talent will be gone forever with the passing of his life.”

"According to Vaughn, this is called the law of nature. As far as I know, the only thing that can break this law is the Philosopher's Stone, and I am certain that Nicolas Flamel only made one Philosopher's Stone. Neither the craftsmanship nor the finished product has ever been leaked."

Dumbledore's calm tone carried a faint sadness, as if it were himself, not Grindelwald, who was about to die.

Even someone like Snape couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy upon hearing this.

He moved his lips a few times, as if he wanted to say something to comfort the centenarian in front of him, but he had never been a good speaker and couldn't utter a word after several attempts.

Then he saw Dumbledore, who had been lost in thought and sighing just a moment ago, suddenly change the subject: "...So, is there any potion that can restore his magic and bring him back to his peak condition?"

"..."

Snape's face fell, and after a long pause, he finally snorted, "Stop dreaming. There's no such potion. What are you trying to do by asking all this?"

Dumbledore didn't answer him, but simply pushed the letter that was spread out on the table in front of him.

Snape looked down.

The moment he saw the handwriting, he recognized that the letter was written by Vaughn. It wasn't that Vaughn's copperplate handwriting was particularly beautiful, but everything had to be compared. Compared to the abstract, unrestrained, and somewhat Fauvist-style handwriting of Harry, Ron, and other young wizards, Vaughn's handwriting was simply a refreshing sight, making it hard not to be impressed.

After a moment of silence, Snape looked up: "That DeSantis is Grindelwald? What made you exclude the others?"

"Just a suspicion."

Dumbledore resumed his usual carefree manner, saying in a lighthearted tone, "Legendary wizards aren't vixens who can summon a bunch by simply patting the curtains. Even the most reclusive wizards have to go through a similar 'path'... Do you know why legendary wizards are named after the word 'legendary'?"

Snape was speechless. How could he possibly know that this conventional way of addressing someone wouldn't be mentioned in textbooks, nor would it be necessary to know it in daily life—everyone had been saying it that way since he could remember, so naturally he said it that way too.

Knowing he didn't understand and not expecting an answer, Dumbledore blinked and smiled, "'Legend' is a Muggle literary genre, a long narrative poem. To become a legend, you have to be like the protagonist in those poems."

A narrative poem? A protagonist?

Snape seemed to be deep in thought.

After a brief introduction, Dumbledore steered the conversation back on track: "Given its special nature, well-informed wizards know exactly who the legendary wizards are; it's impossible for someone to suddenly appear whom no one has ever heard of."

“If we know the total number and also understand the distribution of legendary wizards, the range of suspects will be further narrowed down… There are a total of 6 legends in North America, 3 of the 12 purebloods in the United States, 1 in Canada, and the other 2 are indigenous wizards. Obviously, DeSantis cannot be any of them.”

Snape nodded silently.

Let's not even talk about the three legends who belong to the 12 purebloods, as their stance is unlikely to deviate from the 12 purebloods. As for the Canadian legend, we don't need to care about him either—he doesn't even want to get involved in Commonwealth affairs, so why would he care about America's mess?

The same applies to the two Indigenous legends.

Native American wizards are the most isolated group from Muggle society in the world. Before the European colonists invaded, they had already detached themselves from worldly affairs and focused on studying their divination, astronomy and other magic, having no interest in worldly matters.

In the end, when the conflict between the natives and the colonists escalated into war and massacre, those guys just stood by and watched. The only time they took action was when Evamony was founded. Iso Ser promised that if they were willing to swear an oath to protect Evamony, she would provide them with much-needed wand-making technology and places for natives to enroll in Evamony.

They don't like interacting with Muggles, pose no threat or aversion to the Secrets Act, and are outside the federal system, so the Rappaport Act doesn't apply to them.

Indigenous shamans live much more freely than American shamans.

"Two legends in South America, but these two have spent years studying the pyramids in Egypt and have no interest in the Americas. The one in Oceania is the same... Four legends in the Far East, but the situation of Qi practitioners is more complicated than that of the native North Americans because of what happened decades ago. They don't like to communicate with their international counterparts and are even unwilling to leave their secluded places."

"Apart from these places that are relatively close to the Americas, the rest are concentrated in Central Asia, South Asia, Europe, and Africa. These places have in common that they have many countries, complex ethnic groups, and extremely serious historical problems, which makes them mutually restrained and virtually impossible to go to the United States thousands of miles away to carry out conspiracies."

As Dumbledore eliminated the candidates one by one, Snape realized that there seemed to be only three legendary wizards who were the most likely suspects left.

Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Grindelwald imprisoned in Nurmengard!
Dumbledore and Voldemort are of course not possible. These two are world-renowned number one "patriots," one of whom has been entrenched in England for a hundred years like a mother hen incubating her eggs, not wanting to move an inch.

The other one only had eyes for England and Hogwarts; it was as if the rest of the world didn't exist for him!
Snape, his face stern, stared at Dumbledore with his dark, lifeless eyes: "So, all things considered, only Grindelwald seems to fit the bill..."

Dumbledore nodded: "Yes, so when Vaughn first wrote to me, I went to Nurmengard."

"The results of it?"

“…I’m not sure.”

Dumbledore tapped his fingers lightly on the table, the sound sharp and hesitant. "I personally confirmed his weakness, confirmed that death was near, but..."

However, no one can say with certainty that they can truly see through a legendary wizard.

Snape admitted that he couldn't understand Dumbledore.

In the letter just now, Snape could also see that beneath Vaughn's joking words lay his hesitation about whether DeSantis was actually Grindelwald.

Although Vaughn did not directly deny it, but only talked about his communication with DeSantis, he mentioned more than once in his letters that DeSantis's ideas did not conform to his understanding of Grindelwald, and he was more inclined to believe that it was a concept generated by that spiritual life 'itself'.

It may be unrelated to its own entity!

After thinking for a while, Snape realized he had no clue and had to give up: "What are you thinking now? Desperate measures? Trying to prove, through magic or other means, that Grindelwald didn't wait to die in Nurmengard, but has broken free and is stirring up trouble again?"

"..."

Dumbledore remained silent; this was indeed his thought. Ever since receiving Vaughn's letter, he had been pondering and seeking confirmation about the identity of the wizard named DeSantis.

However, no matter how they investigated other legends or went to Nurmengard to confirm Grindelwald's condition, they found no answers.

He just instinctively felt that what happened in North America was likely related to Grindelwald.

But... there's no evidence!
Without evidence, he couldn't make a decision. It's important to know that, apart from him, other countries and even within the federation, there was no consensus on Grindelwald's views.

In the eyes of some, Grindelwald was indeed an extremely ambitious man and an unforgivable criminal.

But to others—especially mixed-race, Muggle-born wizards—Grindelwald, who once led saints to challenge the Law of Secrecy, was practically a role model.

Not every country has a Dumbledore who suppresses pure-bloods and favors Muggles. In most countries, especially in regions with strong magical traditions and many pure-bloods, such as France and the Balkans, half-blood and Muggle-born wizards face a very difficult situation.

Otherwise, Grindelwald's call to action wouldn't have been met with such overwhelming support across Europe, and even the federation at the time would have been forced to include Grindelwald as a candidate for president due to the global outcry.

This is why Dumbledore went to great lengths to confirm whether "DeSantis" was related to Grindelwald.

Grindelwald's terror never stemmed from his magic.

It's because of his ideas!

If "De Santis" was indeed his doing, then the situation in North America would definitely not have stopped there.

Instead, it will only escalate under his instigation and provocation!
Knowing Dumbledore's troubles, Snape stopped his sarcastic remarks and began to think back on the potion books and ancient recipes he had read, trying to find any clues to provide Dumbledore with.

But they stayed there until nightfall, and still nothing came of it.

Extending the life of a wizard whose lifespan has reached its end is absolutely impossible in potions. As the theory of the golden soul has developed to this point, the consensus in the magical world is that lifespan is determined not only by the aging of the body, but also by the "wear and tear" of the soul.

Physical aging is not a difficult problem for potions; the Primal Potion can reshape a physical body (Voldemort's body was created using this potion when he was resurrected). The difficulty lies in the fact that almost no potions can affect the soul.

(End of this chapter)