Chapter 187: What Would You Like to Ask Me?

Chapter 187: What Would You Like to Ask Me?

"Ah, my apologies." Dumbledore dabbed at the corners of his eyes, feigning a casual tone. "Recalling the past tends to stir up emotions... Those were trying times for us."

Voldemort nodded silently, refraining from observing the Headmaster's expression any further.

The ethereal figure faded and reappeared, now showing Ariana, her face deathly pale and eyes devoid of their former spark.

Aberforth rushed to his sister's side, while the young Dumbledore stood frozen, his face a blank mask.

Grindelwald took a couple of steps back, his eyes darting anxiously. He seemed to want to say something to Dumbledore, but before their eyes could meet, he turned and fled in a panic.

A diamond-shaped pendant flashed in the scene, its central gem sparkling with a brilliant crimson light.

The scenes shifted rapidly, with a glimpse of a funeral before cutting to Aberforth angrily breaking Dumbledore's nose, the latter standing there, his face covered in blood, making no attempt to resist.

Then, the once vibrant young man became silent and anguished, his dreams shattered and his ambitions reduced to ashes.

Dumbledore returned to teaching at the school, students flowing past him like a stream, as if in a long and surreal dream.

The scene shifted back to Grindelwald.

He had grown taller and stronger, and his wand had been replaced by the Elder Wand, known for its unbeatable power.

He traveled across different countries, delivering speeches from podiums.

The fear and panic that once marked his features were now gone, replaced by a countenance that was sometimes stern and calm, and at other times, fervent and sincere. His eyes held a powerful allure that drew people to follow him.

His followers multiplied, their expressions sharp, fervent, and loyal.

They were a stark contrast to the Death Eaters who knelt and kissed the feet of Lord Voldemort.

Grindelwald and his Magical Purists continued their reign of terror—targeting the elderly, pregnant women, and infants... Anyone who stood in their way was mercilessly eliminated.

They bombed streets and burned buildings, unconcerned about the innocent lives that might be caught in the crossfire.

There were those among the Magical Purists who still retained their conscience and felt tormented by their actions, but Grindelwald would place a hand on their shoulders and say earnestly—

"The sacrifice of a few is for the future of the entire wizarding world. It is an unavoidable tragedy on the path to progress. Believe me, my child, it pains me deeply as well."

"But if victory could be achieved through mere persuasion, then we wouldn't need war at all!"

"The masses are blind and foolish, and the Ministry is bloated and incompetent. They refuse to acknowledge that this world is one of the strong preying on the weak! For wizards to live with dignity, we must speak the language of blood and fire!"

"My child, even though lives have been lost, we must carry the wills of the dead and continue to forge ahead, to struggle. This is more difficult than simply dying."

"For those... parents and children watching us from the shadows, and for those whose lives we had to take, we must bear the slander and misunderstandings, burning away our very selves to forge a new future for the wizarding world."

"I firmly believe that we can bring about the rise of wizards, break the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, and force Muggles to acknowledge that we are the superior race. I will dedicate my life to this cause until all our kind can live without fear!"

"Hold your heads high, my children, for you have committed no crime. You are merely exchanging the 'few' for the 'many', the 'present' for the 'future'!"

"Even if our pain is misunderstood and our sacrifices unknown, we will bring hope for a peaceful life to the greater good. History will prove us right!"

"If you do not understand, then do not think. I will think for you, and I will bear your sins. You need only do one thing—"

"Follow me!"

A black tide of war ignited one nation after another.

Wizards bearing unique emblems on their robes marched forward with resolute expressions and unwavering determination. They left a trail of corpses in their wake, driven by a sense of noble purpose.

They turned a blind eye to the fears and cries of the people, but Dumbledore could not.

In the end, he decided to step forward. However, due to the blood pact he had made with Grindelwald, pledging to never harm each other, Dumbledore had to entrust the crucial task to Newt Scamander.

The rest of the story was one that Voldemort had read in history books and watched in films.

He accompanied Dumbledore, witnessing Grindelwald's repeated attempts to seize greater power and attain unmatched strength, only to be thwarted time and again by Dumbledore and Scamander.

Finally, as the Muggle world's great war drew to a close, Grindelwald's regime of Magical Purists also neared its end. He and Dumbledore faced each other in a climactic battle, which ended in Grindelwald's defeat.

Dumbledore claimed the Elder Wand, and Grindelwald was imprisoned in the highest-security cell in Nurmengard.

Time flew, and in the blink of an eye, the illusory Dumbledore transformed into the familiar figure Voldemort knew.

The long white hair and beard, coupled with the wisdom and composure that shone through his eyes, spoke of a man who had weathered many years.

Standing before him was a man dressed in a deep indigo uniform, his face thin and his hair neatly combed.

"...He regrets his past actions." The man said, "He wants to see you and hopes to apologize to you in person."

After a long silence, Dumbledore spoke, "That won't be necessary."

"If he truly regrets the terror he brought upon the world... then he should atone to those he harmed."

The vision before Voldemort faded like mist, and when he blinked, he found himself back in the Headmaster's office with Dumbledore.

It was as if they had never left.

Phoenix Fawkes and the Sorting Hat continued to play with the little magical pets, and the portraits on the wall seemed to be dozing off.

Or perhaps they were feigning sleep.

Dumbledore sat down in the armchair, his expression aged and weary, as if he might crumble at any moment.

Yet his back remained unbowed.

Voldemort sat beside him, averting his gaze slightly, unwilling to meet Dumbledore's eyes at that moment.

After a long while, Dumbledore spoke, "If there's anything you wish to ask me, now is the time."

Voldemort wondered what Dumbledore thought he would ask about.

Was it about his relationship with Grindelwald? Or his brief missteps in the past?

Perhaps it was about the gnarled old wand in his hand or his pursuit of the Deathly Hallows?

Voldemort shook his head slightly, "I have nothing to ask."

After a brief pause, he added, "But is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

Dumbledore looked at Voldemort, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, reminding Voldemort of Ariana from the vision.

He knew that Voldemort's question carried the same implication as his earlier statement—

Ask, and I shall answer. Open and honest, sincere and true.

Voldemort was not one to trust easily, but...

When an old man laid bare his most painful and shameful wounds, bled for him to show what was right and wrong, what reason was there to remain guarded?

And for Dumbledore, that one sentence was enough.

He saw Voldemort's sincerity and trust, just as he had once seen the cruelty and coldness in Grindelwald's heart.

A century ago, he had ignored the warnings from his subconscious.

This time, he chose to listen.

"I have nothing to ask of you," he said, "I'll wait until you're ready to tell me... anything, anytime."

With that, the conversation came to an end, and Voldemort knew it was time to leave. As he stood to bid farewell, a thought occurred to him, and he turned back.

"Professor," he asked, "Do you have any plans for next weekend?"

"Nothing more important than having a drink at the Three Broomsticks," Dumbledore replied.

"There's a place I'd like to invite you to," Voldemort said cautiously.

A smile appeared on Dumbledore's face, "I'd be delighted."

...

December 8th, another full moon night.

The night sky was beautiful, with a huge full moon hanging overhead, casting deep and shallow shadows that evoked fanciful patterns.

Voldemort took out the leaf, and Sirius Black inspected it carefully. Lupin, now transformed into a werewolf, lay on the ground, also craning his neck to examine the mandrake leaf.

He had taken the Wolfsbane Potion, and though transformed, his consciousness remained clear. Sirius leaned casually against the werewolf.

"Excellent, very well preserved," Sirius smiled, then added, "Just to be sure, you haven't let it leave your mouth at all this month, have you?"

"No," Voldemort shook his head and carefully placed the leaf into a transparent crystal bottle, exposing it to the moonlight.

Lupin breathed a sigh of relief.

"I saw you speaking normally a few times and thought it hadn't worked," he said, sparing the young man's pride by not pressing further. He made a mental note to think of some tricks to help Voldemort for the next month.

He didn't doubt Voldemort would give up, but he was concerned about his mood after facing such challenges.

Sirius couldn't help but ask, "How did you manage it? When I was practicing, I kept accidentally swallowing that damn leaf. I failed several times and had to glue my teeth together to finally get through a month."

Voldemort smiled, "I used a sticking charm, and practiced getting used to its presence."

Sirius shook his head, still looking incredulous.

"Let's continue," Lupin said.

Voldemort nodded and plucked a strand of his hair, placing it into the bottle, followed by a silver teaspoon of dew and a Death's-head Hawkmoth chrysalis.

Sirius picked up the bottle and gently shook it, observing the mixture of the various ingredients.

"That should be enough." He put down the bottle and said.

He and Weed walked into the basement of the courtyard with the crystal bottle. The basement was already deep, and Lupin had dug a narrow and deep hole in advance, just enough to fit the crystal bottle.

Then Weed stuffed it with straw, covered it with a stone slab and a felt blanket, and the two left the basement, and Sirius locked the trapdoor as well.

"This place won't be opened until the next thunderstorm." Lupin said, "I and Sirius also set up magic around here to prevent any mice from drilling in and causing trouble."

The crystal bottle used for practicing Animagus needs to be placed in a quiet and dark place, ensuring it is not disturbed or spied upon.

This means that it cannot be placed where people or animals are frequently active, nor can it be checked from time to time.

So some people would bury it in the depths of a forest rarely visited by humans.

For wizards, the most frustrating thing might be that after a year and a half of preparation, everything is finally ready, and on a thunderstorm day, they go to find their crystal bottle, only to discover that it has long been dug up by curious animals.

Sirius and the others had stepped into many pits, but after collecting a lot of information, they had made various preparations for Weed in advance.

"Remember the incantation." Sirius instructed, "Every sunrise and sunset, you must point your wand at your heart and chant, 'Amado, Animmo, Animado, Animagus.' Not a single time can you miss. If you forget any day, you'll have to start all over again."

"Yes." Weed nodded, "I've prepared an alarm clock that will remind me every morning and evening."

"One is not enough." Sirius said with a look of past trauma, "Prepare a few more... just in case you oversleep one day?"

Weed and Lupin both laughed.

After the laughter, Lupin felt a sense of emotion and melancholy.

"The next stormy weather will come at any time, but only when you feel the second heartbeat will you be ready."

Sirius also said, "Even if you feel that heartbeat, the habit of chanting the spell early and late cannot be changed, and not a single time can be missed until the time comes."

Weed thought of the worry he had before and asked, "Do you know... is there any way to influence the form after the transformation?"

"What do you want to turn into?" Sirius asked.

"Well..." Weed hesitated and said, "It can't be a slug or an ant. Then what's the use of transformation?"

Sirius burst out laughing.

"There's no way about that, Weed!" he said, "You know, James and I originally wanted to turn into lions, but in the end, he was a stag and I was a black dog."

Lupin also said, "If you want to know in advance what you will turn into after the transformation, you can first learn the Patronus Charm. Generally speaking, the form of the Patronus Charm and the animal after the transformation, even if they are different, will not be too far apart."

"But I think you don't have to worry about turning into a slug or an ant." Sirius also said, "The form after the transformation is highly related to the wizard himself; it is a reflection of your inner self."

The group discussed for a while, and Sirius told Weed some interesting stories about their process of practicing Animagus. It was late into the night before Weed prepared to return to school.

After all, today was only Tuesday, and they still had classes tomorrow.

As they bid farewell, Weed said, "Remus, let's go out this weekend."

Lupin was taken aback, and then his wolf face became solemn. "This time it's also..."

Weed nodded.

"Okay." Lupin agreed and asked, "Will it just be the two of us this time as well?"

Weed hesitated for a moment.

He looked at Sirius, who looked at the two of them curiously but did not pry.

"Is Mr. Black available?" Weed asked.

"Of course, I'd be delighted to join!" Sirius immediately said with great interest, "Remus has been acting mysterious, and when I asked him, he didn't say anything."

Weed smiled and then said, "Michael and the others won't be joining this time, but Dumbledore will be there."

Lupin was surprised and slightly widened his eyes, and then a smile spread to his brows and the corners of his eyes.

"If Dumbledore is there, everything will surely go more smoothly." He said happily.

Lupin had always been secretly worried that Weed did not trust Dumbledore.

The two of them were people who had changed his life and given him a lot of help, and he did not want to see conflict between them.

Now it seems that in the unseen parts of his life, Weed and Dumbledore have also established enough trust.

Lupin felt relieved and happy.

After Weed left, Sirius immediately grabbed Lupin by the neck.

"This time you have to tell me, what's your secret?"

Lupin thought for a moment before saying, "To be honest, there are a lot of things I don't understand yet. I can only tell you what happened before, and you can judge for yourself..."

Private setting: After turning into a werewolf, if consciousness is clear, then you can speak.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end