Chapter 1024
Silent Snowfall
Chapter 1024 Silent Snowfall
The silver memories swirled slowly in the crystal bottle, making it seem as if a touch of silver had appeared in Vader's eyes as well.
He opened his friend's book and saw a message from Braun on one of the pages—
"...Following the clues, we found the Dream Weaver, an extremely old fairy who called himself Grimson. He possessed great magical power and easily controlled Abigail, the animals in the forest, and even the various utensils in his room."
Fortunately, you gave me protective measures in advance, so I was not affected by that guy and was able to successfully kill him in the end.
We then found where that guy stored his memories, and Abigail insisted on regaining her own. The instant she regained them—just as you predicted—she died from a curse on her heart.
Please don't be saddened by Abigail's passing—she got the truth she wanted and paid the price for her past.
Before she passed away, she entrusted me with a memory. I don't know its contents, but I think there must be something she wanted to tell you, perhaps that's why she had to die.
It would be too unsafe to transport something like this back to England by seabird, and Muggle shipping methods are unreliable. I'll give it to Mr. Gray first, and you can see it when you go back on your holiday.
Mr. Grindelwald has given me a new mission; I'll be heading to Africa soon. Do you need anything? Message me, and I'll bring it back for you.
Also, how does it feel to be back at Hogwarts? I hope you don't overwork yourself with the schedule.
Your loyalty,
VN】
……
On a weekend morning, snow began to fall again, the rustling sound seeming to urge people to sleep in a little longer.
However, in the stillness of the snowy landscape, a figure riding a broomstick, like a stroke of ink, crossed the sky above Hogwarts in a smooth arc.
The broom passed through a window on the eighth floor of the castle and came to a smooth stop a second before hitting the wall.
Wade jumped off the broom, brushed the snowflakes off his shoulders, and looked up to see the dummy Nara dancing with the trolls on the tapestry.
He shook his head, went to the opposite side of the tapestry, and paced back and forth three times in front of the blank wall, muttering to himself: I need a room with a Pensieve… I need a room with a Pensieve… I need a room with a Pensieve…
On the third turn, a simple and narrow peach wood door appeared on the wall, with no superfluous decorations, only the dark brown marks left by time.
Wade pushed open the door and entered. In the simple room, the meditation basin he had seen before sat quietly on the stone pillar, as if it had been waiting to be used by someone.
He walked to the stone pillar, took a deep breath, uncorked the crystal bottle, and carefully poured that wisp of memory into the basin.
The silver light fell into the bottom of the basin without creating any ripples; it simply swirled and spread out, emitting a faint silver glow.
Without hesitation, Wade leaned down and pressed himself against the cold, silvery substance.
In an instant, the world spun around, and a feeling of weightlessness engulfed you. You could almost hear distant, mixed sounds.
Then, one of the voices became clearer—
"We can't afford to keep her at home, so take her with you."
……
While Wade was observing from the sidelines in a memory of the past, Harry lay sprawled in bed, fast asleep. He would occasionally furrow his brow slightly or smack his lips, as if dreaming.
The quiet sound of falling snow kept all the boys in the dormitory sound asleep, and none of them woke up early.
Occasionally, Harry would roll over, and stray hairs would slip down his forehead, revealing the symbolic lightning bolt-shaped scar.
However, ever since Harry was "killed" by Voldemort, his scar has never hurt again, as if it were just an ordinary dark magic scar.
"Boom, boom, boom!"
In his sleep, he seemed to vaguely hear someone knocking on the door.
Harry grunted, his eyelids seemingly glued shut with a permanent charm. He rolled over, pulled the blanket over his head, and the muffled sound vanished completely.
……
"Boom, boom, boom!"
"Crunch—squeak!"
The long-abandoned castle was almost completely buried by weeds. The rusty iron gate groaned hoarsely. When the gate was opened, a dark figure was revealed outside.
The person inside the iron gate let out a low laugh: "Welcome, Lord Voldemort... I'm glad you accepted my invitation."
Moonlight streamed through the gaps in the branches, illuminating the person and gradually making him clearer.
Inside the door stood an elderly male wizard with a gaunt face and a scholarly air of composure. His silver hair was tied back, and his dark blue robe was of a very ancient style.
Outside the door stood Voldemort, who had been resurrected in public but was widely considered to have failed and died once again. His figure was tall and thin, with a cold, snake-like light emanating from his pale skin. Where his nose should have been, there were only two thin slits, and his eyes gleamed with a blood-red light under the moonlight.
"How do you know I'm still alive?" Voldemort hissed.
"The answer to that question is obvious, young man," the wizard inside the door chuckled. "Your magic is indeed wondrous, but it cannot fool everyone."
Voldemort narrowed his eyes slightly, a hint of murderous intent flashing across his face.
"Don't rush into action, Your Excellency." The silver-haired wizard turned and walked into the bunker, saying, "I've heard of you long ago—how many times has that school thwarted your obsession with immortality? Only by cooperating with me will you have a chance to get what you want."
“I’ve heard of you too!” Voldemort stared dangerously at the wizard and said, “Sophirus Rake, a man who hides behind Muggles and goblins, and is keen on creating chaos. What help can you offer me? To get Britain at war with other countries?”
Rick laughed: "Those are all rumors. If this is all I can do, would you still accept my invitation today?"
--Yes I will.
Voldemort remained silent, a hint of disappointment in his heart: So Rake didn't intend to drag Britain into war either? Then what was the point of his coming here?
Rake sat by the fire, poured each of them a glass of rum, and then said, “Be patient, Lord Voldemort. What I’m about to tell you is about the most mysterious and powerful force in the world.”
"If you could obtain this power, Dumbledore and Grindelwald would be nothing more than insects that you could crush with a flick of your wrist. Not just the immortality you desire, but even becoming a god... it might not be impossible."
Calvin, one update tonight.
(End of this chapter)