Chapter 835: Chapter 235: Scheming and Merlin’s Memory
The morning at Hogwarts is shrouded in a thin layer of mist.
On the ceiling of the hall, the morning light pours through the stained glass, casting shadows on the ancient stone walls, appearing particularly tranquil. It is the time when the sun rises and all things revive.
Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel stand side by side, their figures outlined clearly by the morning light.
"The matters are handled, Nicolas." The old Headmaster Dumbledore stands in the center of the hall, donned in a deep purple robe, his silver-white long beard gently swaying in the breeze.
"Yes, Albus, I must return to the office to carefully study the rainwater Ian brought back. Perhaps I may discover some secrets about the disappearance of the gods from it."
Nicolas Flamel adjusted the glasses on his nose, his face carrying the scholarly focus unique to him. Facing his old friend, he did not hide his true intentions of the research.
"Hmm."
Dumbledore nodded slightly, his silver beard swaying gently with his movement, "I also have morning tasks that need completing, requiring me to return to my office and conduct my morning lessons."
He spoke as he glanced at the delicate pocket watch in his hand, the hands seemingly urging him. Seeing Nicolas leave, the old headmaster hastily stepped towards the stairs.
The staircases at Hogwarts were as unpredictable as ever, but Dumbledore seemed long accustomed to their whims. He ascended slowly along the spiral stairs all the way to the eighth floor. Along the way, several early-rising little wizards hurried to the hall. Upon seeing the headmaster, they paused, enthusiastically greeting Dumbledore.
In the hearts of the young wizards today, Dumbledore is the idol-worthy figure, perhaps even more revered than Merlin.
"Good morning, Headmaster Dumbledore!" A Hufflepuff boy with glasses said timidly, his face showing a hint of admiration.
"Good morning, child. The first class today is Spell Class, right? Remember to bring your magic wand, Professor Flitwick doesn’t like it when someone forgets their tools."
Dumbledore winked at the little boy, who instantly flushed with joy, seemingly pleased that Dumbledore remembered their schedule.
"Yes, yes, Professor! I definitely won’t forget!" As he spoke, the little boy and his friends all took out their magic wands as if to show them to Dumbledore.
"Very good, it seems your memories are not bad, unlike when I was studying, always forgetting to bring my wand." Whether or not Dumbledore’s words were true remains unknown.
It made all the young wizards listen joyfully, eager to inquire about the headmaster’s past. Moments later, Dumbledore watched their departing backs with a hint of affection in his eyes.
Then he continued walking upward, always carrying a gentle smile, like a kind elder concerned about each student’s growth.
However, as he pushed open the door to the Headmaster’s Office, stepping into the room filled with ancient magical aura, his smile instantly vanished, replaced by a deep solemnity as if weighed down by great burdens. Portraits of past headmasters lining the walls were all resting their eyes.
"It’s almost time."
Dumbledore walked straight to an ancient cabinet in the corner of the room.
The surface of the cabinet was carved with intricate runes, emitting faint magical fluctuations. As the old headmaster gently waved his hand, the cabinet door silently opened.
Inside stood a silver Pensieve, with liquid shimmering faintly within, and beside the basin, dozens of small glass bottles were neatly arranged.
Each bottle represented a precious memory.
Dumbledore’s gaze lingered on these bottles for a moment before slowly drawing out the Elder Wand, aiming it at his temple. Along with a slight flick, a peculiar-colored memory slowly drew from his mind, like a delicate ribbon, twirling at the wand’s tip.
This memory’s color differed from the usual silver, marred with strands of gray and blood-like hues as if tainted by some power.
"Hmm?"
Dumbledore looked at this memory, slightly surprised, but still brought it to the portraits of past headmasters with his wand, softly speaking to them.
"Fellow headmasters, as always, I entrust these to you." He said, imprinting extracted memories into the portraits.
After completing this task.
Dumbledore gazed at the headmasters’ portraits, pondering deeply.
"Who is affecting us?" A familiar yet slightly hoarse voice suddenly sounded behind him. Without turning, Dumbledore knew who it was—Grindelwald.
His old friend, old rival.
"Gellert, are you done with your matters?"
Dumbledore’s voice was calm.
"Almost; now we are at the same starting point again. How about we see who can go further?" Grindelwald seemed to issue a challenge yet was actually extending an invitation.
Dumbledore did not respond.
He simply looked up at the portraits helping him hide memories.
"This time, it seems like I chose to forget myself." Dumbledore murmured, his voice tinged with bewilderment yet showing no inclination to check his memories.
