From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

Maybe yes, maybe no, but who dares to gamble? Heaven knows what the Dark Lord is thinking; he hasn't even made a public statement—what if he surrenders only to be used as fuel for other purebloods?

When lives are at stake, who dares to gamble?

Moreover, the Dark Lord didn't even contact the purebloods here before he made his move—could it really be as the newspapers reported, that he couldn't wait to start assassinations to disrupt everything because the American war had ended and he couldn't find suitable experimental materials, so he took the opportunity to plunder wizards?

On second thought, wouldn't the Dark Lord think that others' bloodlines aren't pure enough, so these slightly more renowned purebloods are the only suitable fuel? Who would dare to gamble on that!

"How about we discuss this further..."

"Ah, we'll talk about it next time, next time... Maybe we can go to Australia and see, it's safer there once the results come out here, isn't it..."

"There's some truth to that..."

-

"It is reported that…"

"According to sources familiar with the matter..."

"Not yet verified..."

"Stay vigilant..."

Moody looked at the newspaper in his hand, feeling both amused and exasperated.

Despite the shocking news, the tone of the department's news reports was almost entirely one of speculation and deduction, with not a single word sounding plausible—yet it still sounded incredibly frightening.

If he hadn't been involved in the entire so-called attack, he too would have been amazed by that damned blood purification plan, because it certainly looked like something Voldemort would do.

Obsessed with purebloods, believing in purebloods, and then thinking about restoring the glory of purebloods, even at the cost of using those who are not so pure as fuel...

He put down the newspaper and prepared to go to the main office to inquire—the matter was too real; had they obtained some new information channel?

However, as he walked down the corridor, he found two groups of students facing off in an empty classroom.

"Mudblood!"

"Oh, firewood."

"Mudblood!"

"Ah, pharmaceutical ingredients."

"Mudblood!"

"Would you rather be drunk or made into a potion? You Slytherins are so good at potions, you can surely come up with a way to make the finished product that you're satisfied with—seriously, would you rather be dried out or processed?"

"Dirty mud-blooded!"

"At least we won't be turned into drugs, you guys, tsk tsk..."

"No way!"

"There are so many purebloods in you, Potions School. I hope that when Professor Snape uses you to make potions, he'll write your names in fancy calligraphy on the label... Ah, this round bottle is Dennis's, and this crystal bottle is Jim's. Tsk tsk... collectibles."

Because the verbal battle was so interesting, Moody, unusually, didn't open the door to intervene, but instead watched it with his magic eye.

The news of the Dark Lord's return has put a lot of pressure on everyone. In the past two days, there have been quite a few conflicts on campus caused by the pressure. But today the atmosphere seems to have become very intense, and Slytherin's fighting power has suddenly dropped a lot.

However, the excitement quickly turned into a duel. Moody drew his wand, ready to go in and stop them, but then he noticed that William had also strolled over.

"A fight is about to break out inside, Professor William."

Inside were seventh-grade students. To improve teaching, they had previously agreed not to discipline the students they were teaching, in order to avoid rebellious behavior. One student would discipline the other later to persuade them, and the educational effect was very good.

"Your graduation exams are coming up soon, and you're still fooling around!"

William angrily pulled out his wand, waved it to open the door, and successfully caught a large group of students.

After the students briefly explained what had happened, one student suddenly raised his hand.

"Professor, you are a famous potion master. Do you really believe that such a potion exists?"

William glanced at the student who had asked the question, a smile spreading across his face. "That kind of potion is never within my area of ​​research—but you must understand, that's the Dark Lord..."

Chapter 596 Dumbledore, As You Wish

Is there really such a plan?

"But I'm not the one who should be held responsible—if not me, then who is?"

In the principal's office in Iphamoni, Bella's face was half madness and half bewilderment.

She had always considered herself a trusted and loyal Death Eater, but now it seemed she knew less than even an Auror who had leaked secrets—she had never even heard of the so-called blood purification program.

'Was this done by those purgers?'

'Or is Batistuta handling it secretly?'

She couldn't understand it, but she didn't dare to ask—the Dark Lord had his own plans for everything he did. Her previous inquiry about things in Canada had already crossed the line, and now, unless the Dark Lord told her about this confidential plan himself, she couldn't and dared not ask.

However, the only thing she was at ease about was the bloodline plan—she was a true pure-blood family member, and the so-called completion plan would not fall on her shoulders at all.

'However, now it's Bertha's turn to be unlucky. She messed up the Dark Lord's plans, letting an Auror steal the damned information and give it to the wizards of England.'

She even felt a little schadenfreude—although she shouldn't have felt this way, she still couldn't control the urge to laugh.

As for the risk of the plan being exposed, she didn't think there would be any problem. She had always supported the Dark Lord openly, and she was fed up with hiding in the shadows in that godforsaken place, Azkaban. Taking this opportunity to stand up might not be a bad thing.

“Let’s write to that Bertha,” she thought happily, preparing to write a letter to mock the lucky Bertha. With that thought, she tapped her wand on her quill with delight, her eyes gleaming with undisguised joy, and unfolded a brand new parchment.

-

"Oh my god..."

Bertha sat in her office, completely lost in despair.

She was going crazy. She was fine handling government affairs when she was in Iphamoni, but after arriving at the Magic Congress, she was already struggling to cope with the tedious official duties.

'My shop was doing just fine when I was running it, even in Iphamonia, so why did it have to be me?'

She leaned back in her office chair, her expression one of despair—as instructed by the Dark Lord, the Aurors and strikers were usable but not to be relied upon extensively, and the personnel from the previous Magic Council also needed to be carefully assessed and utilized…

These things were actually not too bad, but what followed was really difficult for her to handle.

To appease the emotions of the domestic population, to balance the opinions of the purebloods, to reconcile the conflicts between the purgers and the defecting Aurors, to distribute supplies, and…

If she hadn't brought two assistants from Iphamoni to help, this task would never have been completed—but those two assistants, who were loyal to the Dark Lord, were just freshmen who had only graduated a year ago. They could usually just get by, but with two major events hitting them one after another, they were all dumbfounded.

Perhaps after a few years of training, these two assistants will become quite capable, but right now they are still too inexperienced. They are already overwhelmed with the inquiries from all over the place, and all other government affairs have to be put on hold. They are barely managing to stay afloat. Who would have thought that another big news would come out?

"Let's rest for a bit and wait for the Dark Lord's instructions..."

Bertha covered her forehead in despair, hoping for a letter from Iphamoni.

The letter arrived quickly, but unfortunately it wasn't the guidance from the Dark Lord himself that Bertha had imagined. Instead, it was a letter from Bellatrix, the senior and loyal Death Eater.

The letter inquired in detail whether she had encountered any difficulties, whether she had any leads on the traitorous Auror, and whether she needed any manpower to help her…

'What a reliable Death Eater senior...'

Bertha sighed, then picked up her pen and began to prepare her reply very seriously.

-

"Help?"

Bella stared at the letter in front of her, completely dumbfounded.

Ask her for help? Are you kidding me!

Wasn't the sarcasm in her letter strong enough? Didn't Bertha understand the sarcastic and mocking language of those nobles? How did she endure it? What was her mindset when she sought help from herself?

Bella even considered writing a more aggressive letter in response to Bertha, but ultimately refrained—before she could put pen to paper, she finally learned what Bertha was really plotting.

By dragging her into this mess, we can deflect blame once the Dark Lord holds us accountable!

'Just like that damned Lucius…they're both those treacherous, cunning, and despicable villains, adept at using sweet talk to deceive the Dark Lord…'

Having known the Malfoys for many years, and even having a sister who married into the Malfoy family, she was quite familiar with their tricks.

"Fine, I'll help, but I want to see how you'll act all high and mighty in front of me after this."

Bella gritted her teeth and began to respond according to the suggestions in the letter.

-

"The attack plan, the purification plan..."

In an empty room in Evamony, Voldemort stared at the documents with bloodshot eyes, a hint of cruelty in his gaze.

He was somewhat skeptical when the former happened, but when the latter information was delivered, he became certain that the plan was definitely not his doing, and even the possible Horcrux resurrector could not have come up with such a plan.

He could never possibly pull off a so-called pureblood purification plan—because he himself didn't believe it…

The prophecy had pointed to two damned guys, and he knew better than anyone why he ultimately chose Harry Potter—because Potter was very similar to him; both were half-blood…

In this situation, he wouldn't choose to sacrifice a portion of purebloods to research that damned purification plan, because he was desperately short-handed...

He could have nipped this damned plan in the bud before it was proposed, but once it was, he couldn't deny it.

Because of his propaganda, he is abnormally obsessed with bloodlines, even believing that Muggle wizards become powerful by stealing the power of other wizards—denying this is tantamount to denying his own obsession with bloodlines…

"Dumbledore, you damned old liar!"

He knew without even thinking who had done it. Apart from the hypocritical Dumbledore, who would go to such lengths to frame him like this?

"No, we must stop this damned idea before it spreads..."

“I have to acknowledge my existence, and even twist the plan to reclaim the power that was stolen from us by those Muggle wizards, otherwise, as these things spread, my supporters will only decrease more and more…”

"It should have taken longer, Dumbledore, you succeeded..."

"Then so be it, let the whole world tremble at my return..."

Chapter 597 Unrepentant

"They're out already?"

When news broke that Voldemort had admitted to his resurrection and publicly announced his ideology, William was still dining in the Great Hall.

He put down his half-eaten cereal and picked up the newspaper Adams handed him to examine it.

"What kind of talk is that..."