novel-bin Chapter 222 Salazar's Reflections on Viewing the Sacred Relics
Chapter 222 Salazar's Reflections on Viewing the Sacred Relics
Chapter 222 Salazar's Reflections on Viewing the Sacred Relics
Picking up where we left off, Barty Crouch Jr. said that Voldemort never sent anyone to attack Nurmengard.
Upon hearing this, the secret room fell into complete silence, save for the gentle murmur of running water, like the cry of an owl in a deserted temple on a snowy night.
Dumbledore had already reached for the parchment containing Barty's remnant soul, but now it seemed as if he had been frozen in place by a spell.
His eyes gleamed, and he said softly, "You're saying the Death Eaters have never attacked Nurmengard?"
Little Barty nodded mechanically. "My master has never given me such an order."
Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, a half-smile playing on his lips, and asked, "Does the professor have anything else to say?"
He then gestured with his wand toward the corner of the wall, and with a whooshing sound, a seven-inch willow-leaf dagger flew out from the weapon rack and landed squarely in his palm.
Harry handed over the dagger, saying solemnly, "If the professor is so inclined, then end Grindelwald's life."
"At that time, I will take back what I just said, straighten my clothes, brush off the dust, and apologize to the professor with full courtesy!"
'
Dumbledore refused to take the blow, remaining as still as an ancient pine tree standing on a cliff.
"Harry, you know that Voldemort doesn't trust anyone. Even if the Death Eaters are loyal to him, he might not tell his subordinates all his plans."
"We have no conclusive evidence."
Harry, however, was like a hawk catching a rabbit, relentlessly pursuing it, taking a step forward with an aggressive air.
"If it were an ordinary person, without solid evidence, it would be wrong to accuse him."
"But Grindelwald was a notorious villain who wreaked havoc on the wizarding world in his younger days, causing countless heroes to die at his hands. Calling him utterly wicked wouldn't be an exaggeration!"
"What right do such a villain have to defend himself? Since there are some clues pointing to his covert actions, why not end his life with a single blow and prevent future troubles!"
Though his words were somewhat rough, they were like a sharp knife cutting through hemp, each word hitting the nail on the head. Indeed: Harry's words were sharper than a steel blade, revealing his true intentions clearly.
Dumbledore, nearly a hundred years older, had long seen through the trap in the scarred man's words. No matter how much he provoked him, he remained steadfast as a rock, completely unmoved, and continued in a slow, deliberate voice: "If we can kill someone today simply because they are a criminal, without any evidence, then tomorrow many more innocent people will die."
Upon hearing this, Harry crossed his arms and shook his head like a willow in the wind, saying, "Professor, you can fool others with your reasoning, but don't fool yourself too."
"You refuse to kill Grindelwald. Are you upholding the law, or are you thinking of our past friendship?"
The sharpness of these words was like a swift horse charging into the central command tent, tearing away all the veils of modesty.
Ron, who was standing to the side, felt extremely uncomfortable. He gripped all ten toes in his boots so tightly that he almost dug a hole in them.
Dumbledore remained silent for a long while, then looked directly at Harry, his voice like the deep toll of an ancient temple bell, and said, "Harry, I swear to you. If Grindelwald is plotting anything in secret, I will kill him with my own hands."
"Ugh! The professor's using platitudes again!"
The two men were engaged in a heated exchange, while Moody, on the other hand, looked annoyed and furious.
You should know that Mad-Eye is usually the most cautious person, but now he has been possessed by Barty Crouch Jr. for more than half a year. How can he not be ashamed and angry?
He attached his prosthetic leg, stumbled to his feet, and lunged forward, snatching the sheepskin from his grasp. His one eye stared intently at the remnant soul on the paper, and he said coldly, "Where did Voldemort intend to ambush Harry? What preparations did he make?"
Little Barty shook his head repeatedly, "I don't know."
"You don't know?!" Moody exclaimed in surprise, his scarred brow furrowing. "If you don't know where Voldemort is hiding, how are you going to make a portal key for teleportation?"
Before the remnant soul could reply, Hermione suddenly said from not far away, "Traitor."
"There are Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic, aren't there?"
Upon hearing this, Barty nodded like a chick pecking at rice. "That's right. The Death Eaters lurking in the Ministry of Magic will turn the trophy into a Portkey. I will protect the trophy."
"I just don't know where the Portkeys will be sent, nor do I know their identities, and they don't know who the mole is in Hogwarts. Only in this way can we ensure the best possible secrecy."
Upon hearing these words, Harry completely forgot about Grindelwald's case. He gritted his teeth so hard they were practically burning.
"Damn it! This Fuji is a complete idiot! He's just a clay idol at the temple fair, receiving incense offerings for nothing, yet showing no efficacy whatsoever!"
"I'd rather these birds had joined Voldemort long ago, so I could praise their acting skills when I killed them. If they were truly as stupid as pigs, wouldn't the whole world laugh at them!"
Moody ignored his insults, his one eye fixed sharply on the parchment, and said in a deep voice, "How do you and Voldemort communicate?"
"We have no way to contact each other. My master told me all the mission details before I attacked you."
Having said all he could, Moody had nothing more to ask, so he rolled up the parchment and threw it back to Dumbledore.
"To be honest, Albus, my advice is to burn it."
"I can guarantee with my decades of Auror experience that you won't be able to get anything useful out of him anymore."
"Thank you for your advice, Alastor." Dumbledore carefully folded the scroll into his sleeve. "But I don't think there's any harm in keeping it, do I?"
Moody's face suddenly showed a hint of mockery. He didn't answer, turned around and walked away, his prosthetic leg thumping on the ground like a war drum urging him to battle.
After taking only a few steps, Nagini suddenly called out from behind, "Wait a minute, Professor Moody, don't forget your eyes."
With a flick of her jade finger, the demonic eye that had fallen into the pool of flowing water rose up and hovered in front of Moody.
The madman snatched it away without hesitation, slammed it onto the bluestone ground, and immediately stepped on it with his prosthetic leg.
But with a "plop" sound, it was crushed into a pile of glass shards.
"Thank you so much for your kindness, Ms. Fantastic Creatures."
"However, I always keep my distance from anything that Voldemort has touched. Nobody knows if he might have done anything else to it."
Having said that, Moody dragged his prosthetic leg away with a clang, the clanging sounds gradually fading away.
Seeing that the turmoil had subsided, Rowena passed through the wall and returned to the library to study the crown. Nagini also retreated into the locket to quietly cultivate his spirit, waiting for the day he could achieve the golden body of a true dragon.
Dumbledore gave Harry and the others a few words of advice before turning to leave. He had only taken a few steps when he suddenly heard a call from behind.
"Please wait a moment, Professor Dumbledore!"
When Dumbledore turned around, he saw Hermione walking quickly forward.
He asked in surprise, "Is there anything else, Miss Granger?"
Hermione nodded. "I have some questions about the soul. If the remnant soul within Professor Moody could be extracted by the Dementors, could Voldemort within Harry be extracted in the same way?"
Before she could finish speaking, Harry interrupted her loudly, "I appreciate your kindness, elder sister, but let's not mention this matter again!"
"I'd rather die a quick death than let such a vile creature get close and humiliate me!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and said irritably, "Which is more important, face or life?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, I don't think that will work."
Dumbledore interrupted slowly, "You should have noticed what Barty Crouch Jr. said. He's merely attached to Moody, not treating him as a Horcrux."
"Although the results of these two methods are the same, the processes they take are very different."
He paused again, then added, "That doesn't seem like something that modern black magic could do; it's very likely magic he learned from the future."
Hermione, hearing Dumbledore's words, was sighing to herself when she saw Harry, completely unconcerned, laughing to himself, "Why should I worry, elder sister? My three souls and seven spirits are strong enough; how could I allow that remnant soul to take over?"
"It would be better to ponder what Grindelwald is really plotting, even at the cost of damaging his foundation, to infiltrate Hogwarts. What is he after?"
Hermione's bright eyes flickered, and a thought struck her. She pretended to ponder and said, "Could it be that he wanted to steal the Elder Wand?"
""
Harry was slightly taken aback upon hearing this, thinking to himself: Oh dear! For the past six months, I've been so focused on tracking down the thief who plotted against me that I've completely forgotten about my alliance with Salazar in search of the Deathly Hallows.
She immediately clapped her hands in agreement, "Sister's words are absolutely right! If Grindelwald did indeed use a ruse to infiltrate the school, he must have something to do with it."
"I suspect he's likely trying to regroup the Lich Party," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Then he desperately needs a powerful wand to solidify his rule—"
The two of them sang in unison, and in just a few words, they had already decided that Grindelwald was a treasure thief.
Seeing the two of them talking so animatedly about their past secrets, Dumbledore felt a sharp pain in his head and wished he could immediately put a gag on Grindelwald.
Merlin's beard! Why does he tell everyone everything?!
He muttered a few curses to himself, then reached into his robe to retrieve the magic potion for his headache, only to find nothing.
So he forced himself to calm down and reassured her, "Don't worry, Grindelwald has never been to my office."
A glint flashed in Harry's eyes. "So, you're saying the Elder Wand is resting peacefully in the Professor's office?"
Dumbledore's expression froze for a moment, and just as he was about to speak, Hermione stepped forward, clasped her hands in a gesture of respect, and looked utterly sincere.
"Professor Dumbledore, let's double-check."
Although Ron was still a bit confused, he quickly nodded in agreement, "I think so too!"
When Dumbledore saw Harry standing right in front of him, as if determined to get the Elder Wand, he felt his headache getting worse, as if a thousand silver needles were pricking his sun.
"Okay, Harry, and Hermione and Ron too."
"Come to my office."
The group then walked towards the principal's office under the moonlight.
After leaving the Chamber of Secrets and crossing the corridor, amidst the flickering candlelight, Harry suddenly turned his head and asked, "How does Big Sister know so much about the Elder Wand?"
Hermione's expression remained calm as she simply said, "When Grindelwald and I were training together, he often told me stories from the past."
Harry took the lead upon hearing this, but secretly kept it in mind.
As the two were talking, they arrived at the headmaster's office. Dumbledore opened the sandalwood drawer and took out a long, narrow brocade box.
Upon opening the box, an elderwood wand was revealed, its patterns resembling coiled dragons and snakes.
Harry didn't hesitate. He darted forward, grabbed the wand, and quickly pressed it against his chest so that Salazar in his arms could see it clearly.
Hermione also rushed forward, her jade-like neck slightly tilted, half of her hair resting on Harry's shoulder. Her beautiful eyes were fixed on the wand, as if she were in a daze.
Ron stood to the side, staring at it for a long time, but felt that it was not even one ten-thousandth as good as the Willow Demon Cudgel in his hand.
Losing interest, he turned his gaze to Dumbledore, who was taking the potion, and asked, "Professor, if the Elder Wand is the most powerful wand in the world, why have I never seen you use it?"
"You seem to always be using your own wand, don't you?"
By this time, Dumbledore had finished taking the medicine, and his face was flushed again. He said slowly, "The Elder Wand is indeed very powerful, but it is of little use to me."
Harry was even more puzzled by this. He handed the Elder Wand to Hermione, then turned to Dumbledore, crossed his arms, and asked, "Professor, what you say is quite perplexing. Even though you are a man of great magical power, you would still be recorded in history."
"But this old wand is, after all, an ancient sacred artifact; how can you say it's of no use whatsoever?"
"Ah—it's that simple. The Elder Wand doesn't allow you to unleash more powerful spells; it simply grants its master an inexhaustible supply of magic."
Dumbledore, having relieved his headache, sat back in his chair, exhaled a breath of stale air, and said, "My own magic power, while not yet infinite, is sufficient."
He spoke humbly, but Harry and the other two understood the underlying meaning. His statement that it was "enough" clearly implied something like "almost infinite."
Harry was secretly shocked and said, "Although I knew the professor was powerful, I did not expect it to be to this extent. It is truly astonishing."
Then he thought again: If Grindelwald can fight him to a standstill, he must be a demon lord who stirs up trouble.
It is true that a true master does not reveal their abilities, and one who reveals their abilities is not a true master. Only then do we realize that there are heavens beyond heavens, and people beyond people.
The three examined the elder wand closely, turning it over and over, until Dumbledore nodded and dozed off in his chair. Only then was Harry satisfied, and he led the two men to bow and take their leave.
As soon as Harry stepped out of the office and saw that no one was around, he quickly pulled out a piece of drawing paper from his pocket and whispered, "Brother, have you figured out the secret of the Elder Wand?"
The ink flowed across the paper, and Salazar's phantom image appeared, a hint of doubt on his brow as he said, puzzled, "Very strange."
"Just as Grindelwald said, I can fully understand what materials this wand is made of, what runes it is written in, and the steps it took to make it."
"But when they are combined, they become something that is difficult to understand."
Hearing this explanation, Harry felt even more suspicious. He thought to himself:
The incantations on the invisibility cloak were like celestial script, impossible to decipher, while the old magic wand, seemingly crafted with rudimentary skill, had somehow produced an astonishing divine artifact.
But little did they know what the Resurrection Stone was like.
However, now was not the time for contemplation. He suppressed his many doubts, grabbed the drawing paper, and urgently asked, "Now that we've seen this Deathly Hallows, brother, you should explain to me what the origin is of that thing that's constantly being struck by lightning!"
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