Magical Studies at Hogwarts...

Chapter 265 The Final Prophecy

Hogwarts was unusually quiet during the summer holidays. The once bustling castle was now only occupied by Peeves and the ghosts, and even Filch had left.

It seems they went to attend some kind of training course on how to make a Squib use magic.

Occasionally, Professor McGonagall would return to handle some issues for the new students, send them acceptance letters, or offer assistance, but she was rarely here. Sometimes Dumbledore would also return, mostly at Professor McGonagall's request, since some thorny issues could only be decided by the headmaster.

"That's all, Minerva?" Dumbledore signed his name on the agreement with Gringotts, signifying that the underprivileged freshmen would receive a grant. The amount each person would receive wasn't large, but it added up to a considerable sum.

"That's all for now." Professor McGonagall put away the parchment, rolled it up, and held it in her hand. She adjusted her glasses and asked, "Have you found a candidate for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Severus will take over that position," Dumbledore replied calmly.

Professor McGonagall paused in pushing up her glasses, then hurriedly said, "But Dumbledore, that position..."

"A curse, yes, I know," Dumbledore said. "But there's nothing I can do about it. In the current situation, it's very difficult to hire a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I've been looking all over the holidays and no one has agreed to take the position."

"But in comparison, I have a very good candidate for the Potions professor position."

"You mean Professor Slughorn? He'll agree to return to Hogwarts at this time?" Professor McGonagall looked puzzled. She knew Horace Slughorn's character very well. To be precise, he was not a qualified professor. He only had eyes for those outstanding wizards, but ignored the mediocre ones.

Because of this personality, Slughorn had a good relationship with Voldemort when he was still at Hogwarts, and could even be considered his prized student. However, after Voldemort became the Dark Lord, Slughorn disappeared and stopped attending his students' gatherings. For a long time, no one knew where he was.

"With all due respect, Professor Slughorn is unlikely to agree," Professor McGonagall said. "You might need to reconsider, Dumbledore."

"It's alright, I'm confident I can persuade him." Dumbledore shook his head gently and said calmly, "Besides, there are some things I need to get answers to from him as well."

"About that person?"

"Yes, it has to do with Tom," Dumbledore said, a sudden smile appearing on his face. "Trust me, Minerva, he'll agree. After all, we have Harry now, and Hermione too. Slughorn has always liked outstanding students, hasn't he?"

"But..." Professor McGonagall hadn't finished speaking when a knocking sound came from the principal's office window, drawing their attention.

Dumbledore looked at Professor McGonagall with a puzzled expression, then at Fawkes on the shelf, before finally getting up and going to the window.

Pushing open the window, I saw a tired-looking owl. It was still damp with water, and a feather was missing from its wing. Seeing Dumbledore appear, it hurriedly handed him the letter it was carrying in its beak, even scratching at it with its claws.

Dumbledore took the letter; there was no information on the envelope. He glanced at the exhausted owl, and his expression immediately turned serious.

"What's wrong, Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall asked softly.

"I'm sorry, Minerva, I need some private space right now." Dumbledore, clutching the letter, turned and looked calmly at Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall gazed at the document for a moment, nodded slightly, and left without saying a word, taking the signed and effective agreement with her.

Dumbledore watched silently as Professor McGonagall walked out the door, letter in one hand, wand in the other, and two curtains obscured the portraits of the young Zhang on the walls. He hurried to a full-length mirror, waved his wand again, and the mirror spun, revealing a secret room.

The interior was empty except for a stone pillar about half the height of the pillar, on which rested a wide, flat, hollow copper basin—the Pensieve.

He went to the Pensieve and eagerly tore open the letter, which contained only a blank sheet of paper. Dumbledore remained calm, and lightly tapped his wand on the paper, drawing out a ray of silvery-white, silky light.

Without hesitation, Dumbledore placed the object directly into the Pensieve and plunged in.

As soon as my face was immersed in the meditation basin, a feeling of weightlessness, like a phantom shifting, washed over me. When I regained my balance, everything before my eyes had changed.

It was an empty living room, with a fireplace leaning alone against the wall, and only a brown sofa and a small wooden coffee table.

An elderly man with snow-white hair and a gaunt appearance was sitting on the sofa, wearing a white robe.

"Albus." He seemed to sense something and turned his head when Dumbledore's figure appeared here, his eyes very calm.

"Gellert..." Dumbledore murmured, standing quietly in place, his eyes fixed on Grindelwald.

Grindelwald also stood up from the sofa, took two steps towards Dumbledore, and stopped almost touching him. He seemed to see Dumbledore's figure, looked him up and down, and after a long while, said softly, "This should be the last letter I write to you, Albus..."

"I should already be dead by the time you receive it."

"Did I scare you? Are you even a little sad?"

"Ha~"

A bright smile spread across Grindelwald's face, and his tone became much lighter.

"A few days ago, I saw some images... You know, I have the ability to foresee the future, and no one but you has ever been able to mislead me about what I see..."

"In that image, I saw a snake-like figure; that must be Tom Riddle, the guy you're currently facing?"

"He must have asked me something, but I refused, and then he killed me."

"A green light... Bang! And then I died." Grindelwald gestured with his hands and tilted his head slightly, but the smile on his face remained unchanged.

"But that's not important. I'm not going to use my last bit of magic to tell you this boring stuff..." He shook his head, his expression instantly turning serious, and his tone becoming much harsher.

"Listen, Albus, on the day I died, it wasn't just one person who came; there was another young fellow..."

"Be careful! He's dangerous, even more dangerous than Tom!"

"I have a feeling I foresaw something about that young man, but somehow, I can't recall anything related to it..." Grindelwald stared intently, his eyes filled with seriousness. "You understand what I mean, Albus!"

Dumbledore stared silently at Grindelwald before him, noticing the sudden bloodshot in his eyes and his incredibly serious face, motionless as a statue.

After a long while, Grindelwald suddenly smiled, his eyes closing and opening, the bloodshot veins disappearing completely. He leisurely returned to the sofa and sat down, his right hand with two fingers together next to his temple, a soft white light shimmering on it.

Suddenly, he turned his head, his eyes filled with a calm, still expression.

"This time, I won, Albus..."

(End of this chapter)