Resurrection Stone

Chapter 380 The Resurrection Stone (4K) (Bonus chapter thanks to the author)

Snape was cutting a piece of roast meat in his characteristic slow and seemingly bored manner, his lips pressed into a cold, hard line, appearing indifferent to everything around him.

The crow's eyes caught his every subtle movement.

Lynch controlled his eating speed.

He chewed at a moderate pace, each sip of pumpkin juice at the perfect moment—neither hurried nor lagging behind. His gaze didn't even deliberately sweep in Snape's direction, as if he were truly focused solely on his meal.

As Snape put down his knife and fork and gently placed his napkin on the edge of his plate with a barely audible "tap," Lynch also swallowed his last bite of food and wiped his mouth with his napkin. Their movements were so synchronized that it seemed as if they had rehearsed them countless times.

The two of them got up from their seats at almost the same moment.

Snape's dark eyes swept over Lynch seemingly unintentionally, his empty gaze devoid of any emotion. He paused for a barely perceptible half-second, as if confirming some signal. He didn't speak, but turned and walked out of the Great Hall, his black robes billowing like bat wings.

Lynch nodded slightly to Professor Flitwick, who was speaking quietly with Professor McGonagall beside him, then stepped down from the faculty bench and walked unhurriedly toward the exit. His pace maintained an imperceptible, perfectly measured distance from the figure in black robes ahead.

The noisy auditorium was left behind as they entered the relatively quiet foyer, one after the other.

The cold stone walls and the flickering torchlight cast long, intertwined shadows of the two people. A few students were still moving about, but the space was already quite empty.

Just as they were about to part ways—Snape heading towards the stairs leading to the underground classrooms, Lynch turning towards the steps leading to the upper levels of the castle—their figures intersected, and the view of others was blocked by stone pillars.

Lynch's lips barely moved, but a whispered, yet remarkably clear, sentence, carried precisely to Snape's ears by the slightest vibration of the air: "The opportunity to obtain the key has arrived. Be prepared for the next while."

As soon as he finished speaking, Lin Qi did not stop walking, as if he had only stirred up a breeze as he passed by.

He had already stepped onto the upward steps, and his figure quickly disappeared into the shadows around the corner.

Snape's steps were uninterrupted and hesitant. He didn't even turn to look in the direction Lynch had gone, but a sharp, cold glint, like a quenched steel needle, flashed in his dark eyes in the torchlight. His tightly pursed lips seemed to harden slightly, and then, as if nothing had happened, he continued walking down the steps, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the cold stone steps before silently disappearing into the darkness below.

The lobby returned to normal, with only the crackling of torches.

In the days following his conversation with Lynch, Dumbledore did not rush into any action.

He knew all too well that any haste would be fatal when faced with a defense set up by Tom Riddle himself, and perhaps connected to his deepest obsessions. These past few days of waiting were necessary and meticulous preparations.

He practically buried himself in the restricted sections of the Hogwarts Library and among the most obscure volumes in his private collection, searching for anything related to "Gaunt," "the curse of the ancient blood," and "persistent protection against the dark arts."

He only decided to set off when he felt he had done everything he could in terms of knowledge, supplies, and contingency plans, and when a moonless, cloudy night, perfect for covert operations, was about to arrive.

So, late at night, in Dorset, on the outskirts of the village of Little Hangleton.

The moonlight was obscured by thick clouds, letting out only a faint, pale glow. The night wind whistled through the barren bushes and twisted trees. The old Gaunt house, like a deformed beast crouching in the darkness, was nothing but the outline of broken walls, radiating a darkness deeper and more deathly than the surrounding night.

A tall, slender figure appeared silently at the edge of the woods surrounding the old house, his long, silvery-white hair and beard barely discernible in the darkness. Dumbledore didn't use any light magic; his deep blue eyes seemed to absorb even the faintest light in the darkness, sharply scanning what lay ahead.

He did not rush to get closer.

Instead, like the most patient hunter, he began an extremely meticulous and silent "purification" and "investigation".

First is the outermost layer.

He raised the Elder Wand with a movement as gentle as caressing the air. No visible light emanated from the tip of the wand, but an invisible yet delicate magical field spread outwards from him like mercury spilling onto the ground.

Magic swept across the land, bushes, and broken fences, sensing any possible warning spells, spying spells, or "traces" left by recent activity of others.

He paid particular attention to "connection points" that might resonate with the Dark Lord's magical characteristics. This process lasted for nearly half an hour until he confirmed that, at least within a fifty-yard radius of the old house, there was no active magic that would send out an alarm, nor any trace of recent arrangements made by others.

Only the passage of time, decay, and the ancient and stubborn darkness that emanates from the depths of the ruins.

This reassured him somewhat, but his vigilance remained undiminished.

He walked slowly forward, his tall frame belying the lightness of a feline, his footsteps barely making a sound as he trod on the damp leaves and pebbles. He didn't take the possible "main entrance," but instead chose a gap in the collapsed wall, where the view was relatively open and he avoided any ancient traps that might exist in the porch.

Inside the ruins, the smell of decay and dampness became even stronger.

Dumbledore stopped at the edge of the house and raised his wand again. This time, his magical probing was more focused and penetrating. He "listened" to the remaining magical memories of the building, feeling the "pulse" of the ancient defenses that were almost integrated with the wood and stone.

The deeper he went into understanding, the more awe he felt.

These spells were extremely well concealed, their astonishing power cleverly disguised as part of the building's own "aging" and "decay." Their malevolent and cursed patterns were almost perfectly synchronized with the wood grain, the cracks in the stone, and even the lingering stench of decay in the air. Had he not known beforehand that something amiss here, and hadn't conducted this meticulous "anti-disguise" investigation with the same purpose, even with his keen senses, he might have easily mistaken them for merely unconscious, dark echoes of the land's long tragedy, thus overlooking them entirely.

Thinking of this, a sense of emotion swept through my heart.

The wizard under Lynch's command was able to detect the almost non-existent "structural anomaly" in this seemingly empty ruin and deduce the hidden core—this person was no ordinary individual. That required incredibly keen observation, a profound understanding of ancient magical structures, and the obsessive patience of Xi Jinping. A truly outstanding wizard, it's a pity we never met. Dumbledore silently made this assessment in his mind.

Lynch's First Order indeed gathered some extraordinary talents.

He composed himself and brought his attention back to reality.

Now, he could sense the layers upon layers of malevolent magic, most of which were in a dormant, untriggering state, like countless sleeping venomous snakes coiled within the bones of the ruins.

Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore began his deciphering process, not through forced dismantling, but through a subtle "stripping away" and "soothing."

The Elder Wand seemed to come alive in his hand, tracing intricate and beautiful ancient runes silently. His lips moved slightly, chanting obscure fragments of incantations, his voice as low as a dream. Sometimes, he would use magic to draw a few shimmering runes on a seemingly ordinary wall or floor, these runes, like keys, gently embedding themselves into the structural weaknesses of ancient defenses, temporarily "dormant" or "deflecting" them. Sometimes, he would take a pinch of shimmering powder from his robes—processed unicorn horn powder or phoenix tail feather ash—and sprinkle it on key points, using the pure life force contained within to neutralize some of the most insidious bloodline curses.

This process is slow and arduous, requiring unparalleled magical knowledge, control, and patience.

Sweat soaked the collar of his robe, but his eyes beneath his silvery-white eyebrows remained bright and focused, as if he were restoring the most exquisite work of art. He avoided at least three areas that, if triggered, could cause violent magical explosions or summon evil guardian spirits, and calmed five curse threads directly connected to the Gaunt family's resentment.

He did not attempt to "destroy" these defenses, which would have triggered unpredictable chain reactions: he simply carefully carved out a narrow, temporarily safe passage for himself to reach the hidden core.

Finally, he arrived at the central area of ​​the main house.

Based on the "structural anomaly" described in Lynch's intelligence report, his gaze locked onto an area beneath his feet that appeared no different from the other decaying floorboards. The magical protection here was at its peak; the aura of resentment, warning, and bloodline lock was almost tangible, chilling to the bone.

Dumbledore's expression turned incredibly serious. He took several deep breaths, adjusting his magic to its most stable, balanced, and peaceful state. Then, he began the final and most dangerous step in solving the puzzle.

The tip of the Elder Wand glowed with a steady, soft, milky-white light, no longer seeking or soothing, but beginning a deep "dialogue" and "persuasion" with the ancient protection. He used all his understanding of ancient family magic, bloodline curses, and protective spells to search for that theoretically existing, extremely tiny "gap" that might have been left due to the passage of time and the fact that the spellcaster's magic and knowledge at the time were not invincible.

Time ticked by, and the air seemed to freeze.

Suddenly, the floorboards emitted an extremely slight "click," not a cracking sound, but rather like a delicate lock being opened. A layer of dark golden, vein-like, writhing magical patterns appeared on the floor surface, then quickly faded.

dissipate.

The protective measures have been temporarily lifted.

Dumbledore did not act immediately.

He waited a few minutes to confirm that no further hidden traps had been triggered.

Then, with extreme slowness, he crouched down and gently pried open the loose floorboards with his wand. Below was a small, hollow space, devoid of any soil, only filled with a dense, almost suffocating aura of dark magic. In the center of the hollow lay a simple gold ring, its face set with a black gemstone, appearing like a solidified abyss in the darkness.

Just as the floorboards were lifted and the cool, grassy air from outside rushed into the cavity, the instant it touched the ring, a faint, almost imperceptible, dark golden ripple swept across the surface of the black stone on the ring, like a sigh from something disturbed from its slumber. There was no attack, no alarm, but an invisible, colorless, and odorless...

The magical fluctuations, however, subtly spread outwards from the ring. This was an extremely ingenious and malevolent auxiliary spell; its sole purpose was to amplify the ring's inherent "seductive" properties the moment it saw the light of day again.

It is amplified to the extreme. It does not target the body, nor does it harm the soul; it precisely plucks and amplifies the most vulnerable and yearning strings deep within the heart of life.

The instant he saw the ring, at the critical point of recognizing what it was, the amplified allure, like a tsunami, precisely struck his defenses, which had been slightly shaken by memories and speculation.

Dumbledore froze, as if struck by a silent bolt of lightning. His face, so intently focused and serious...

The seasoned wizard's wisdom and composure cracked like fragile glass. His breath hitched, his azure eyes fixed on the black stone, his pupils contracting in utter shock and a deeper, surging emotion.

Resurrection Stone.

The word was not uttered, but it exploded in his mind like a thunderclap.

All the legends about the Deathly Hallows, his youthful fanatical dreams with Gellert Grindelwald, and the eternal pain deep within him—a pain that had never truly subsided—for Ariana, for Aberforth, for his parents, and for all that he had lost—burst forth like a flood, breaching the dam of his reason.

He also saw the chilling, intense black magic swirling around the ring; the malevolent curse was well concealed, but it still couldn't escape his eyes.

The warning bell rang wildly deep within my mind.

But—it's too late.

Or rather, the warning became insignificant in the face of the immense emotional vortex brought about by the words "Resurrection Stone." Wool socks—a phantom by the fire—my sister's smile—my brother's forgiveness—a chance to make amends for all mistakes, even if it's just a phantom, even if it's only for a fleeting moment—

Reason cried out, but the old, wrinkled hand seemed to have its own will, trembling, slowly, and resolutely reaching for the ring.

His fingertips touched the cold metal and the even colder gemstone.

Then, drawn by an almost fateful impulse, in the final moment when reason was completely overwhelmed by desire, he put the ring on the ring finger of his right hand.

PS:

Thank you all for your support. We have achieved good results this month.

Special thanks to the top three monthly ticket holders: Gao Bufu, Windasker, and Shi Dongdongla. This extra chapter is dedicated to you all. Thank you!

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