allendalepharm Chapter 316 If one day...
Chapter 316 If one day...
Chapter 316 What if one day...
After Harry was picked up and carried away by cheering classmates to celebrate, all the professors from various schools and the Aurors from the Ministry of Magic in charge of the specific events were powerless to do anything about Cassius's comatose state.
They tried too many spells, but none of them worked.
In fact, because the Daydream Charm, invented by the Weasley twins, is essentially positive, many spells that dispel negative energy and have effects such as blessing magic actually contribute to its effectiveness.
The end result was that Cassius slept soundly until the middle of the night.
No one could have imagined that when Cassius woke up pleasantly, stretched, and then, as if in a panic, screamed and frantically searched for his wand, ready to fight Harry Potter to the death, he would find himself in his Slytherin dormitory—
The dormitory room was empty and unusually quiet.
There is also the dim light at night.
Cassius was so horrified that he got goosebumps.
The hair is creepy.
He screamed in terror and ran out of the dormitory. There was no one there, which made him even more frightened, thinking that he was still trapped in some kind of terrible illusion.
It wasn't until he arrived outside the school auditorium and looked through the bright windows at the students excitedly discussing today's competition that he realized with despair that the competition was already over!
It wasn't just one round; the top 30, top 15, and finally the top 10 had already gone through several rounds.
As he listened, he finally understood—today had officially determined the ten champions of Hogwarts.
My mood is extremely cold.
As it turns out, there's a reason why the Triwizard Tournament wasn't just about setting up the "Fire Cup" Warriors Championship.
Magical duels are just like Muggle gun duels; a single misstep can lead to a crushing defeat with no chance of recovery.
This game is going too fast!
While a battle between weaklings might delay the match, the members of the dueling club, whose skills have improved, will not allow such a thing to happen.
Especially after Harry, everyone started to frantically pursue this kind of "one-hit kill" combat effect, and the scene became very intense during the later round of the top 15 tournament.
Cassius listened with despair.
Close your eyes.
Tears flowed like a river.
He was forced to realize with despair that he might become the most conspicuous background figure in this "Hogwarts legend"—he was the first to be instantly killed!
But clearly his strength is not bad!
At least within the Duel Club, he was stronger than Ginny Weasley, a young witch, yet Ginny still made it into the top 30.
Everyone jokingly calls the top 30 a battle within a duel club.
But he wasn't there.
Cassius didn't know how to face everyone, so he turned away dejectedly, wanting only to escape as soon as possible, and then wandered aimlessly around the school.
As he walked, he came to the Black Lake and wanted some peace and quiet.
The waters of Black Lake crash against the shore like ocean waves, creating a dark and oppressive atmosphere with a distinctly emo feel.
However, when he arrived, he found that the place was full of people.
These were all spectators who came to watch the game, as well as some students' parents. He also saw some newspapers and magazines interviewing some prominent spectators, hoping to get some sensational comments from them.
Then he saw George and Fred hawking their invention, the garbage dump house, in the crowd.
"Damn Daydream Curse!"
He turned and walked away, muttering curses under his breath.
Heading towards the Forbidden Forest.
Then he noticed there were even more people here, and among them was another very conspicuous figure, Hari Po!
Special!
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and even Draco, Goyle, and Crabbe—students who were among Lockhart's favorites in the Duel Club—were all here.
They were all holding Hakimi cats, dark magic creatures bred by the professor, seemingly looking for suitable owners for these magical cats.
Cassius quickly changed direction again.
He grew increasingly frustrated, and his heart became increasingly gloomy.
Then----
He then heard a murmur.
"Come here, I will grant you strength—"
"The power you crave—"
"Rescue me, and you will receive your deserved reward—"
He thus arrived at a place where the Duel Club had once been active, a stone house located somewhere on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
This stone house was built by everyone using various methods, but it was later abandoned and unused for some unknown reason.
Cassius was conflicted.
During a Duel Club members' sharing session, Ron once shared a piece of advice from his father: Never trust anything that can think independently unless you see where it hides its mind.
He strongly agrees with this viewpoint.
However, he hesitated now, his heart stirring with desire as he listened to the seductive voice.
When he didn't know how to face his classmates and fellow duelists after experiencing the most desperate failure and worst performance in his life, a voice told him that it could give him strength!
He was panting heavily, constantly telling himself not to believe the voice.
But that's precisely because he was moved; otherwise, he would have turned and left long ago.
As he was struggling with his decision, he noticed a group of people from outside the school who had come to watch the game walking towards the stone house with great anticipation.
These people also seemed to be able to hear that seductive voice!
He stared blankly as a middle-aged witch walked past, watched as she took out her wand, cast a spell to transform the tip into a small knife shaped like a dinner knife, and then cut open her palm, letting the blood splatter.
The middle-aged witch looked exceptionally devout, kneeling on the ground with her hands clasped in her hands. Blood pooled in her palms, flowing down her arms and seeping out from the seams.
"A wondrous and magnificent being—"
The witch muttered, "I also want to be as powerful as those little wizards. I—I always feel powerless in the face of life. I long for the power that will make me brave."
After a while, she began to shout with delight.
"Power! I feel power!"
Blood flowed from her body, and endless emotions surged from the depths of her soul, mingling with the blood and spreading towards the stone house.
At the same time, a force interfered with some of the loss, leaving it within the witch's body, where it solidified into a silver scar on the wound in her palm.
(In the original books, Voldemort created the silver arm for Peter Pettigrew as a reward, possessing magical power and uses.)
Soon, the silver, leathery, shimmering scar suddenly expanded, tearing open another wound in the palm of his hand, eventually solidifying into a "T" shape.
The letter T is the first letter of Tom's name.
If Lockhart were here, he might exclaim in surprise that Voldemort had improved the killing curse technique he used to create Horcruxes, and even combined it with dark magic markings, certain blood magic, and the invocation of evil gods.
The witch's surprised expression quickly inspired the others, and they all knelt down around the stone house, cut open their palms, and began to pray while holding the blood in their hands.
They have so many desires, a thirst for power.
Cassius understood; these were almost all people who had failed in life.
*Smack!*
Cassius slapped himself hard to calm himself down.
He kept reminding himself that he was Professor Lockhart's apprentice, the most powerful and infinitely promising Lockhart of our time! He could not succumb to something that looked like an evil god!
You could even say he couldn't give in to his own life!
He also longs for his own fairytale adventure, one that is definitely not the fairytale adventure he is in now!
He gritted his teeth and suddenly rushed towards the school's castle auditorium.
"Hurry up!"
"Faster!"
He shouted to give himself courage.
Then, as if realizing something, he quickly drew his wand and cast a spell on himself: "Fly at lightning speed!"
The reverse casting of the Flying Spell.
This is a deep casting technique based on the principles of the Summoning Charm, a lesson taught by Professor Snape in the Duel Club—allowing us to control our bodies like puppets, hanging upside down, stiffening, and keeping our mouths tightly shut.
Relaxing all muscles and tendons, floating, trembling erratically with cramps—we can naturally make our bodies fly out like a hit ball—this is the most foolish and crudest method, but in the most urgent situations, it's so simple that you'll find it incredibly practical—I warn you, when using this method, don't try to do anything fancy, flying around like a Quake ball; you'll only shake your already pitifully sparse brain to its core—
So Cassius, as if summoned by a wizard using a summoning charm, flew into the air in a parabolic arc and then hurtled towards the doors of the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
The speed is unimaginable.
Bang~!
He slammed violently against the doors of the auditorium.
The loud crash silenced the noisy auditorium instantly, and everyone turned to look at the entrance.
"Professor Lockhart!"
Cassius, bruised and battered, stormed in, trudging through rows of dining tables, shouting, "Professor Lockhart!"
He was hit pretty hard, and his head was spinning so much that he couldn't see Professor Lockhart at all. Instead, he saw the principal looking at him with surprise on the podium right in front of him.
"Professor Dumbledore!"
He shouted, pointing behind him, "That stone house in the Forbidden Forest—"
Bang~!
He fell to the ground and completely lost consciousness.
Amidst the gasps of surprise from his classmates, Dumbledore's expression turned serious.
"Please be quiet!" His voice, imbued with some magical power, drowned out all the noise. He then gestured to Professor McGonagall and strode quickly out of the Great Hall.
Lockhart didn't follow immediately; instead, he went to Cassius's side, drew his wand, and treated the unfortunate boy.
"Flowers are therapeutic!"
Flowers bloomed in mid-air, with wisps of fluorescent light drifting down.
Cassius's head wound visibly healed back to normal.
But he didn't seem to be waking up.
Hmm~~
You can't wake someone who's pretending to be asleep.
It was clear that Cassius was somewhat hesitant to face everyone because of his defeat in the ring match.
Lockhart called to several Slytherin students, "Take him back to his dormitory; he needs to rest."
When Lockhart arrived at the stone cell at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, all that remained were ruins, with what looked like fire-baked, grayish-black stones piled up haphazardly.
The surrounding area was filled with kneeling people.
He patted Harry, who was watching the commotion in the crowd, with a strange expression, unsure if Harry was like Conan, causing trouble wherever he appeared.
But this is clearly a misunderstanding of Harry.
Harry, like the other students, just shook his head, somewhat bewildered.
"Those people are performing some kind of evil god ritual!" Draco said, pointing to the group of people kneeling there. "I just saw it; they all have a silver T-shaped scar on their palms."
Lohatt nodded and stepped forward, where he saw Dumbledore and Grindelwald both examining the silver scars.
"A mark of soul damage," Grindelwald analyzed, glancing at Harry in the crowd; the boy also had a lightning bolt scar on his head.
"I know this! Soup—"
Lockhart hesitated for a moment, not revealing Tom's name. He wasn't sure if Dumbledore would be willing to disclose the prison that had previously been held here, given the large number of people around.
Soon, the Aurors from various countries' Ministries of Magic who had come to help the school heard the commotion and rushed over to help maintain order.
They took away those who were praying and also dispersed the young wizards and spectators who had gathered around.
"This must be the method he used to create Horcruxes using the Killing Curse."
Seeing Dumbledore frown, Lockhart smiled and said, "While I can't guarantee it, I'm fairly certain he won't continue making Horcruxes, at least not at this stage."
He described Voldemort's exploitative "extraction" of his soul, which stimulated all his emotions and desires. "Our previous methods of imprisoning him were obviously effective. Even now, he could only use some means to get these wizards to complete the rituals themselves. It seemed that his own magic was not enough to penetrate the prison and help him escape."
This is where the fun begins.
Lockhart, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald were not at all surprised that Voldemort had escaped; such things were impossible to prevent. Their focus was on how Voldemort had managed to get away.
This helps them understand Voldemort's current state.
Dumbledore squinted, sensing the silver skin in the palms of those people. "That's an extremely sophisticated transfiguration spell, and a profound one at that—a summoning spell (a type of transfiguration, creating something from nothing)."
Transfiguration is a vast palace of knowledge, with five major branches, each with its own sub-fields. For example, Transfiguration Charms have a branch called Transfiguration, which is further subdivided into Curses (transforming others), Transfiguration (including Animagus), and so on.
"This spell is a transfiguration summoning spell similar to alchemy; it can create a magical prosthetic limb."
This is not simple magic, otherwise Mad-Eye Moody wouldn't need to wear a fake eyeball and use a cane, and Professor Kettleburn wouldn't only have one hand.
"He only got it to complete a small part this time —"
This deeper exploration of advanced magic makes it very easy to grasp the underlying logic of wizarding magical thought.
For example, Lockhart's exploration of the "Patron Charm" involved creating corresponding malevolent werewolves (suppressing and controlling evil thoughts in one's mind, imitating the Obscurial concept), giant Pegasus (combining the concepts of Apparition and Time Magic), and so on. Dumbledore's exploration of this magic was the "Telepathy" spell, which allows the Patronus to help transmit thoughts outward and was taught to the members of the Order of the Phoenix.
"He is exploring the existence of the human body —"
Dumbledore murmured, his eyes narrowing. "He still hasn't given up on the research into pure-blood magic!"
"You got it right!" A magnetic, husky voice rang out from the side.
"Dumbledore, your analysis is correct."
As he spoke, a silver light emerged from the tip of the Elder Wand in Dumbledore's hand, and a pale, semi-transparent figure quickly floated out from it.
Voldemort.
"Tom!" Dumbledore frowned.
They fled, but they came to him so brazenly. Did they really think they had no way to deal with his ghostly projection?
Well, he knew that with the bloodline magic built upon Tom's curse on Hogwarts, it would be really difficult for Tom to do any harm to him if he appeared at Hogwarts.
At most, Dumbledore could only stop Tom from popping out of his wand.
But he didn't do that.
"Pure-blooded magic leads to a dead end," Grindelwald sighed, shaking his head. "Young man, I advise you to abandon this research direction. In reality, all I've seen in increasingly pure magical bloodlines are mentally challenged children and wild beasts."
Or, to be more precise, it's the biologicalization of magic.
Magical creatures whose thinking is not as complex as that of human wizards.
Voldemort's increasingly idiotic behavior is the most obvious example.
"You're both old, and have lost your ambition for magic," Voldemort mocked Grindelwald and Dumbledore without reservation, speaking with a touch of arrogance. "Magic has no end!"
"My prolonged state of being a wandering spirit and my experience of resurrection made me realize that the magical bloodline that seems to be passed down from our ancestors doesn't just exist in our bodies! It has always been in our souls!"
Voldemort gracefully raised his hand, looking up at the moon through his translucent palm. "In other words, many seemingly vanished pure-blooded magical lineages in this world are actually preserved in those lingering ghosts!"
"Merlin's bow-tie pantyhose!" Lockhart exclaimed. "This is an angle I didn't expect!"
Voldemort chuckled. "Could the magical images possessed by ghosts also be useful? What about magical photographs? In the early days of humankind, when photography was first invented, many people feared its existence, afraid it would steal human souls. If this is proven, then could magical images and photographs of magical creatures also be used to extract some magical bloodline?"
This is no longer the magical realm of Lockhart, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald.
They are completely different from Tom, who manipulates souls and delves into Horcrux magic.
"If one day—"
Voldemort stared intently at Dumbledore and Grindelwald. "I can help you resurrect Ariana—"
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened.
A dangerous glint also flashed in Grindelwald's eyes.
I wonder if someone like Snape would be tempted by such a promise.
Even to say————
What would the wizarding world, no, not just wizards, but also Muggles and all kinds of intelligent magical creatures, think?
It's hard to say!
Lockhart gasped, looking Voldemort up and down. "Tom, are you really that good at bewitching people?"
Voldemort chuckled. "As if you lot can't manipulate people!"
He looked at Dumbledore, his face showing the smugness and relaxed pleasure of being free. "You can't find me, but I can easily appear before you."
Then he looked at Lockhart, "I assume you've promised me the vice-principal position and that won't change, right? You need me to intimidate those foolish politicians."
Lockhart shrugged. "I don't care about them at all. I hired you because of your wisdom. I think Dumbledore is right. Every wizard has the opportunity to become a great person who helps others, not a demon. I'm willing to give you that opportunity, mainly because you promised to do a good job on your Potions book."
Voldemort smiled and nodded. "You won't be disappointed. It will be the greatest treatise on potions in the history of magic!"
After saying this, he bowed gracefully to Dumbledore. "Well then, I'll take my leave for now. I need to enjoy my freedom and breathe some fresh air."
The figure gradually faded, eventually disappearing without a trace.
Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily and sighed, "Before the Triwizard Tournament, I hesitated many times about whether to transfer him—"
Grindelwald chuckled. "People can't all rely on you. Everyone should take control of their own destiny, instead of waiting for others to arrange it for them! — You said it yourself!"
Old Grimm's boomerangs were always incredibly accurate, and he could always quickly return what Dumbledore had said.
In fact, they all shared a silent understanding—they both longed for a magical world with Tom Riddle. (Not a magical world with Voldemort; those are fundamentally different.)
Even if someone might get hurt as a result.
But this is the necessary process—for the greater good.
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then turned to Lockhart. "I intend to teach the children Transfiguration. This course will continue until the end of the tournament, and all students except the champions will be allowed to audit it."
"I hope you can help me record this and compile it into a magic book, and then share some of its ideas with you, the vice principal, during our regular conversations!"
Lockhart's expression turned strange. "What is this? Knowledge is a form of pollution?"
Grindelwald burst into laughter. "Pollution? What Abu wants is to guide Tom onto the right path!"
But that's the principle.
Using knowledge to corrupt Voldemort?
Oh, it doesn't seem impossible. It's said that magic chooses wizards, but wizards also choose magic.
If Voldemort hadn't come into contact with Horcruxes, the story might be completely different now.
"Magical knowledge always carries magical power, and every spell is a path in life." Dumbledore always had extremely far-reaching plans, and almost no one knew when his current decisions would be made at some crucial moment in the future.
Lockhart didn't object. "I guarantee I'll get it done. This is something I'm good at!"
It has to be said, the children are truly blessed!
How many years has it been since Dumbledore personally taught a course?
This contains invaluable knowledge and wisdom that encapsulates the life and soul of a master magician!
"An interesting approach —"
Grindelwald was clearly inspired. "This is a great opportunity to spread knowledge. It's not just students who are paying attention; the entire wizarding world is focused on this!"
He muttered to himself, his eyes lighting up, "I could teach a class for the children too!"
"!!!"
Dumbledore's expression turned extremely wary. "What?"
Grindelwald simply smiled mysteriously and slowly uttered the course name: "Muggle Studies!"
wow~
Even Lockhart was tempted.
To be honest, although he is a responsible person, he has always been quite lazy.
Previously, as a professor, he first reduced the size of the course and then lured Professor Kettleburn to help oversee it.
Then he gradually merged the Duel Club with the advanced classes for older students, enticing Snape to help with the lessons. Eventually, he only taught one or two junior wizards, then had them teach at the club. And in the Magical Creatures Protection class, he had Hagrid help with the lessons—
He wants fame, fairytale adventure, and no trouble.
But at this moment, he clearly realized another interesting way to start the Triwizard Tournament: an extremely interesting and great adventure.
"I'd also like to teach a class together for the children from these three schools!"
He then looked at Dumbledore and Grindelwald, "In this way, we can introduce a brand new tradition to the Triwizard Tournament: Masterclasses during the tournament!"
Perhaps at some point, when the two big shots won't mind, Voldemort could come and teach a class, such as his favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts, to teach young wizards how to defend against dark magic.
Oh, I wonder if Severus is interested in this; we could recruit him as a teaching assistant.
Okay, Lockhart is already trying to slack off before he's even started.