The Return to Hogwarts

"Only those with pure blood may open the door!"

Amostella read the sentence aloud, then smirked and said, "That certainly sounds like Slytherin style."

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Amosta. If you don’t believe me, we can try it.”

Dumbledore's eyes flickered, and he rolled up his sleeve, revealing his left forearm.

"Headmaster Dumbledore!"

Harry immediately understood what Dumbledore was about to do. He hurriedly stepped forward, offering his own arm as well. "You can use mine!"

“Oh, thank you—” Dumbledore smiled kindly, “but according to Slytherin, I think of the three people here, only I meet the requirements.”

A flash of silver light streaked through the air, and Dumbledore's arm sprayed out a crimson stream, instantly covering the rough stone door with dark red, shimmering droplets of blood. Under the influence of mysterious magic, these droplets of blood did not drip to the ground, but instead rolled rapidly toward the almost imperceptible crack in the center of the stone door.

call!

After consuming Dumbledore's blood, a wisp of pale blue smoke escaped from the narrow crack in the door, and then it fell completely silent once more.

Harry seemed a little unable to accept the result, but Dumbledore and Amosta both looked calm.

"Why do you think this is the result, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Amosta asked the question, but judging from his expression, he probably already knew the answer.

"We can only guess now--"

Dumbledore glanced at Harry, carefully choosing his words, "The Slytherin's concept of pure blood is probably different from our understanding; he's probably referring to his own descendants."

But Voldemort failed!

Harry immediately said, "That diary tells me that Voldemort is a descendant of Slytherin, but he!"

Harry understood. Tom Riddle told him that the Slytherin blood in his veins came from his mother, and that his father was a Muggle.

The three people in front of the stone door fell into a long silence. Harry couldn't accept that Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Blaine couldn't do anything about the stone door, because it meant that this rare 'adventure' had failed, unless they could find someone like Voldemort's cousins.

Harry knew that the conversation between Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Blaine might involve some incredible secrets, but unfortunately, he didn't understand a single word.

Amostella rubbed his hair in frustration and looked at Dumbledore.

Do you think it's possible?

“It’s hard to say, Amosta,”

Dumbledore clearly understood Amosta's abrupt question, and he frowned as he answered.

"But I think it's only a theoretical possibility, because it's highly unlikely for him, both physically and mentally."

Dumbledore turned and gazed intently at the Slytherin statue seated there, letting out a deep sigh.

"I sincerely hope that one day we won't have to face the situation of having to open this stone door. But if that situation does arise, oh, that might truly be the most difficult thing I encounter in the rest of my life—"

Many troubles ended that night, but many more sowed the seeds of future disasters that will one day explode.

Harry was ordered by Dumbledore to go to the school hospital for a check-up by Madam Pomfrey, even though he repeatedly insisted that he was not seriously injured, but Dumbledore still insisted on his opinion.

"--I know you have many questions in your mind, Harry, but now is not a good time to talk. You can come to my office and chat with me after you have had a good rest."

"But it's the board of directors!"

Harry stood in the foyer, looking at Dumbledore with surprise. "You've solved the problem?!"

"Oh, of course that's how it is—"

Dumbledore looked at Harry gently and smiled faintly. "In fact, I was warned about what Lucius Malfoy was planning a long time ago. I guess by tomorrow morning, when Lucius finds out I'm still the headmaster of Hogwarts, he'll probably come storming over to confront me—"

Harry jogged upstairs, seemingly less resistant to going to the school hospital, because he suddenly remembered that Ron and Hermione were also in the hospital, and he couldn't wait to share with them what happened later that night.

"I'm sorry, Amosta, I know you need to rest now--"

Dumbledore looked at Amostella apologetically.

"But could you please keep this old man company and chat with him for a while, since he doesn't need much sleep?"

Amosta felt a chill run down his spine; he knew that real trouble was about to begin.

Chapter 90 Everything (Part 1) (Please Subscribe)

The verdant willow branches swayed in the cool night breeze, and the bright moonlight shone on the shimmering lake. Except for the school hospital, the Hogwarts Castle, which was dark except for the hospital building, once again exuded a cheerful and peaceful atmosphere. The dark clouds that had shrouded the castle at the beginning of the night had completely dissipated.

Dumbledore and Amosta walked side by side by the lake, neither of them in a hurry to speak, but quietly enjoying the rare tranquility of the moment.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been resolved, Headmaster Dumbledore. I'm afraid I'll be leaving soon."

Five minutes later, Amosta stopped under a crooked willow tree, facing the rippling lake, carefully savoring the complex emotions in his chest.

"Aren't you going to reconsider, Amosta?"

Dumbledore didn't seem surprised, but his aged face still showed obvious regret as he sincerely said...

"In my opinion, you are a very competent professor. You get along very well with this school, and the young wizards like you very much. If I could, I wouldn't want to lose such an excellent teacher as you."

Amosta smiled but didn't say anything. He believed Dumbledore could guess his choice.

Dumbledore looked more tired than at any other time this semester. He didn't continue the conversation. His long life had given him wisdom that was second to none. He knew better than anyone what could be changed and what could not.

"So--"

Dumbledore pulled the tattered diary from his pocket. He had brought it out of the Chamber of Secrets earlier. In the moonlight, a drop of water leaped into the air with the undulating waves and landed precisely on the diary, leaving a clear water stain.

"I think you must have recognized what this is by now, Amosta?"

“Oh, Headmaster Dumbledore, you may be overestimating me. I know nothing about Horcruxes.”

Amosta winked playfully at Dumbledore, who was giving a wry smile. It wasn't easy to hide something from Dumbledore, who had such a wealth of life experience and was also a master of Legilimency. Amosta was just using a joke to express that he didn't want to talk about Horcruxes in depth.

"Just let it be."

Dumbledore put the diary back in his pocket, took a deep breath, and gazed at the edge of the endless forest, at the little cabin whose light had dimmed.

“There’s something you can’t pretend you don’t know, Amosta—”

Dumbledore's tone became slightly serious.

"I want you to return the basilisk in the secret room to me."

Wow!

A strong, gusty wind, carrying waves, crashed heavily against the lake shore, causing Amosta's neatly combed gray hair to dance wildly. He reached up and pressed his hand to his head, letting out a heavy sigh amidst the howling wind.

Dumbledore knew he hadn't killed the basilisk, of course; such a clumsy lie couldn't fool him. Amost even suspected that the unique gaze of his great headmaster had 'seen' the basilisk lying in his arms.

Amosta said those things in the Chamber of Secrets only to let Dumbledore know that he wanted to keep the basilisk. He thought that since he had resolved the Chamber of Secrets matter, Dumbledore would not refuse this 'trivial' request.

“I hope you can understand my difficulties, Amosta,”

Amosta's stubborn expression left Dumbledore feeling helpless.

"Hagrid is currently imprisoned in Azkaban, and I must produce some evidence for the Ministry to prove that the creature attacking young wizards fifty years ago and now is not the old spider named Aragog, whom Hagrid keeps. This diary has been destroyed."

Furthermore, I don't think Voldemort's Horcruxes are suitable to be presented as evidence; the basilisk is strong proof.

Amosta's expression darkened. To be honest, he hadn't considered Hagrid.

The situation was a bit tricky. As Dumbledore's most loyal confidant, Amostella knew that Dumbledore would absolutely not allow Hagrid to be imprisoned in Azkaban.

But if he hands over the basilisk, what will happen to his mission? Will all his efforts of several months, including using a very precious voodoo doll to ward off Voldemort's curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, be for nothing?

No, this is absolutely impossible.

Dumbledore understood his attitude from Amos Tower's silence, and he continued,

"This basilisk needs to be handed over to the Ministry regarding the two attacks on young wizards last semester. Cornelius has ordered the Daily Prophet to remain silent."

Ho!

Amosta chuckled but remained silent, already pondering what to do if the situation spiraled out of control.

Amos Tower wasn't arrogant enough to think he could defeat Dumbledore, but after so many years of hard work and preparation since he entered Hogwarts, it would be utterly pathetic if he couldn't even escape from Dumbledore.

In fact, from the moment he accepted the mission and decided to enter Hogwarts, Amostella had already foreseen this embarrassing situation.

Amostella stared menacingly at the rippling lake, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the school's iron gate. He had already planned it out: once he made his move, he would escape Hogwarts as quickly as possible and then Apparate away.

The tacit understanding between Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge had nothing to do with Nat. As for Hagrid, he did feel somewhat apologetic, but he believed that Dumbledore could handle the matter. If all else failed, he would go to Azkaban himself after handing over the mission to Cacus Foley.

However, he did feel a little regretful that he didn't have the chance to say a proper goodbye to Professor Snape, Hermione, Harry, and the others.

The endless waves of the lake crashed against the riverbank. Dumbledore shook off the glistening water droplets that had settled on his silver beard. Having already sensed the hostility emanating from Amostella, his expression became even more helpless. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he were also pondering how to resolve the current conflict.

"Amosta."

After a while, Dumbledore, who seemed to have made a decision, regained his cheerful expression. He softly called Amosta's name, took out a money pouch from his pocket, and handed it to Amosta. The money pouch did not look the same as the funds that Dumbledore had allocated to Amosta at the beginning of the term; it seemed more like a personal item.

"What do you mean, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Amosta narrowed his eyes, glanced at the money pouch, then looked away, turning his gaze directly into Dumbledore's slightly smiling eyes.

"Because they couldn't award me a special contribution medal, they changed it to Galleons as the reward?"

“That’s not the case, Amosta,”

Dumbledore's unusually long beard and hair reflected the pure white moonlight, making it seem as if he himself was radiating light. He playfully blinked his azure eyes, just like Amostella had done earlier.