https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-267-You-Must-First-Know-What-You-re-Facing/13685161/
Chapter 266: The Girl Is Called Moaning Myrtle
The first week of June arrived, bathed in the golden glow of Sunlight, and the Final Exams came as scheduled.
History of Magic, Spells, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy—back-to-back tests filled the days, casting a tense yet exhilarating atmosphere across the campus. Most students felt upbeat, confident they’d achieve excellent Academic Performance.
After all, this year’s “game” had given them valuable practice. As the professors put it, they were far stronger than last year’s Water class.
Yet one student wore a sour expression—Neville Longbottom.
While theory was important, students naturally leaned toward hands-on learning. And for him, Astronomy and History of Magic remained stubbornly difficult subjects, relying entirely on memorization.
“I really wish they’d cancel History of Magic,” Michael groaned. “Who cares when KnowCauldron was invented? All I need to know is which one works best!”
“Which brand of Cauldron is best?” Neville asked urgently. “I—I’d like to buy one too…”
Even with Wade’s help, Neville still struggled in Potions class. Everyone assumed it was nerves. But one couldn’t truly fault Neville for poor mental fortitude—Professor Snape was relentlessly sharp with him, often lashing out with cold remarks.
The fact that Neville hadn’t yet run away from the class entirely was already a miracle.
But when Snape wasn’t watching, Neville could slowly brew a decent Potion—just not a great one.
The old saying held true: poor students have more stationery.
Neville, it seemed, hoped that better equipment could compensate for his lack of skill. He was obsessed with buying a higher-quality Cauldron.
Michael just shrugged. “Neville, obviously the expensive ones work better.”
Neville sighed, rolling his eyes. “...Where’s Wade?”
“He had business with Professor Dumbledore—he handed in his exam early and left.” Michael replied.
The others didn’t think much of it. They’d long grown used to Wade being pulled into adult affairs.
...
Headmaster’s Office.
Inside the Silver Cauldron Vessel, thick plumes of white mist rose steadily into the air. The ancient portrait hanging on the wall stirred, its eyes opening with a slow blink.
Dumbledore’s expression was grave.
Before he could speak, the portrait of Phineas Black spoke first.
“Hmph. Preposterous! Absurd! I’ve never heard of such nonsense!”
“A SerpentStrange left behind by one of the founders—Slytherin? How utterly ridiculous! What use could such a creature possibly serve? Is he planning to slaughter every student in Hogwarts? Don’t forget—Slytherin was part of this school too!”
“Nonsense! Utter nonsense!”
“A SerpentStrange’s gaze alone can kill! If such a beast truly roamed the halls, the bones of every student who’d died over the past thousand years would have filled the Black Lake!”
Wade ignored him, turning to Dumbledore.
“So I’ll need your Fawks’ help. As far as I know, the Phoenix is immune to the SerpentStrange’s gaze, its tears can heal most poisons, and it’s the only magical being capable of restraining a SerpentStrange.”
A crimson-red bird appeared from nowhere, landing gracefully on Dumbledore’s shoulder. It tilted its head, studying the young student with sharp, intelligent eyes.
Wade smiled. “I’d like to ask Fawks to blind the SerpentStrange first—just to be safe. Of course, this is only my request. If Fawks isn’t willing, we’ll find another way.”
Fawks let out a low, soft call.
Dumbledore smiled. “I believe that’s a yes.”
Fawks nodded solemnly.
“Thank you, Fawks,” Wade said. “Then we’ll set the time for June 13th—the day after the Quidditch match. I’ll inform the others. They can choose whether to participate voluntarily.”
“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “Everyone who comes must understand exactly what they’re facing.”
Fawks nodded again.
That serious, focused gaze—it was as if the bird were the true headmaster, and the white-bearded wizard merely its mount.
Wade couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course.”
...
“You really mean to trust him?” Phineas Black sneered. “Dumbledore, don’t let a mere student sway you! Yes, he’s clever—a little—but the headship of this school belongs to you!”
The other portraits of past headmasters murmured in agreement, one muttering, “Thank Merlin I died early… Today’s children have no respect for elders!”
Dumbledore smiled. “Phineas Black, Armando, I don’t need students to treat me with empty formality. What I value most is the ability to speak openly with them, to offer them even a small amount of help.”
Armando Dippet muttered something incoherent, his eyes half-lidded, already drifting back to sleep.
He’d once had a student—brilliant, handsome, respectful.
And then… that same student had become the Dark Lord feared across the magical world.
Phineas Black pressed on. “So you truly mean to trust him? To believe there’s a SerpentStrange hidden in the school—something no one’s ever seen?”
“Why not?” Dumbledore said, selecting a mango biscuit thickly slathered in cream. “That boy doesn’t make claims he can’t back up.”
“Even if… even if it’s true…” Phineas Black paced in his frame, agitated. “It’s a Slytherin relic! Do you understand? It’s a priceless heirloom! How can you just hand it over to a few students to destroy? Maybe it’s the last thing Slytherin left for the world!”
Slytherin’s relic…
Dumbledore paused, his hand hovering over the plate.
For a moment, he was struck—by the memory of a black ring, its unique engraving, and the legend he’d once chased in his youth.
After a long silence, Phineas Black resumed his rant.
“…It hasn’t attacked anyone in over a thousand years! It’s harmless! Why not let it live in peace?”
Dumbledore spoke quietly. “It has attacked.”
“What?” Phineas Black snapped.
“A student died fifty years ago,” Dumbledore said. “You remember her? Moaning Myrtle. She was only fourteen.”
Phineas Black fell silent.
“Yes, the SerpentStrange has been quiet for a millennium. But I can understand why Wade feels it must be eliminated.” Dumbledore continued. “Because someone with the ability to control it has appeared—Tom Riddle, a descendant of Slytherin, gifted with Serpent Tongue. The SerpentStrange could be manipulated by Voldemort at any moment—turned into a weapon against us.”
After a long pause, Headmaster Darece spoke. “Dumbledore, what about the students’ safety? Even without its gaze, the SerpentStrange is far beyond the strength of an ordinary young wizard.”
“Oh, that concern is unnecessary,” Dumbledore said. “I’ll be there myself that day.”
“Then what are you worried about?” someone asked.
Dumbledore looked at them all, his eyes distant.
“For the first time in a long while… I’m afraid of what might happen after.”
But no matter how insistently they pressed, he would not say more.
(End of Chapter)
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