Hogwarts: Not Even Voldemort Can Stop Me From Learning Chapter 625: Patching the Plan - Novel Cool

Chapter 625: Patching the Plan

"Hahaha..." The mad laughter echoed through the Headmaster's Office, bouncing off the stone walls as mist swirled within the Pensieve. Ryan Smith’s face, twisted with ecstatic frenzy, flickered in the silver vapors—his nose bleeding freely, eyes wild with delirium, as though he had already seized mastery over ultimate power.

Then, a shadow fell into the Pensieve, merging into the slow, hypnotic rotation of the mist.

Dumbledore removed his glasses, rubbing his temples. For a moment, he felt as if the image would never leave his mind.

"I must ask, Wade—" Dumbledore turned to the young man across from him, "did you cast a Confusion Charm that drove him mad? Or did you slip him an overdose of Felix Felicis?"

"No." Wade shook his head. "Giving him Felix Felicis would’ve risked bringing bad luck to me too. My Confusion Charm only made him believe he’d acquired Ravenclaw’s knowledge. The rest—his delusions, his ambitions—they were all his own."

"So this is truly his inner desire," Dumbledore said slowly. "To help Voldemort unify the magical world, and to treat him as nothing more than a tool for his own rise?"

Even with all his wisdom, Dumbledore found himself at a loss for words. A flicker of genuine confusion passed through his eyes.

Even if Ryan Smith had truly gained Rowena Ravenclaw’s knowledge and wisdom, how could he be certain he could transform it into real power? Magic, practical skill, adaptability—what did he possess that surpassed Voldemort’s?

Even a thousand years ago, Rowena Ravenclaw had never been the most powerful wizard of her time.

To a man who thought in layers, who weighed every possibility, Ryan’s shallow, reckless mindset was almost incomprehensible.

"I’m equally surprised," Wade said calmly. "A man who seemed so composed, so intelligent, so amiable—once he believed himself empowered, his true self emerged. And it was far uglier than many Death Eaters."

Dumbledore tapped the Pensieve lightly. "So, Wade… what’s your plan?"

—What do you intend to do with this ambitious young man?

Wade didn’t flinch under Dumbledore’s gaze. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes sharp and clear.

"Professor, if Voldemort discovered how shallow and vain Ryan really is… do you think he’d abandon him?"

"Impossible," Dumbledore replied without hesitation. "Tom is the most confident young man I’ve ever known. He doesn’t fear ambition in his subordinates."

"So the more obvious Ryan’s flaws become," Wade said, "the more Voldemort will believe he can control him."

"He can’t fully trust his former Death Eaters," Wade continued. "But he might confide in someone like Ryan—someone he sees as malleable. He might reveal his hiding place, the names of his remaining allies, even his next moves."

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

Wade couldn’t maintain the Confusion Charm indefinitely. In that brief window, he’d used Memory Modification magic to implant just enough false knowledge into Ryan’s mind—far less than Ryan believed he’d received.

And here was a subtle but crucial twist: Ryan thought he’d gained ancient wisdom. Voldemort, however, believed Ryan had been influenced by one of his own soul fragments.

Thanks to the Communication Pea, Voldemort couldn’t verify Ryan’s state. Wade’s magic still obscured the truth.

But if the two met in private, the deception would unravel quickly.

For one thing, if Ryan handed Voldemort the Crown, the Dark Lord would immediately recognize it as a fake.

Only Dumbledore could apply the final patch—complete the design, refine the illusion—so the plan became exactly what Wade intended.

After finalizing the plan, Wade returned to the dormitory to rest. The Christmas Ball had drained the students’ usual surplus of energy. When he reached the Common Room, most were still in bed.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore didn’t put the Pensieve away. He immersed himself in the memory, reliving the night’s events as if he were there.

In Wade’s memory, Wade had already cast a Disguise Charm. Even Dumbledore, searching the air with his wizard’s senses, couldn’t detect him.

Yet Dumbledore knew—Wade was right there, beside him.

He watched Ryan, drenched in sweat, frantically searching through the hidden chamber. His expression carried a quiet gravity, a deepening worry that slowly gave way to a silent, weary sigh.

…

Though many things had changed dramatically thanks to Wade’s involvement, some small things still followed the old script, as if fate itself had insisted on their recurrence.

Like Ron and Hermione arguing again.

Hagrid, furious after confessing he was half-giant, had infuriated Madam Maxime.

And Harry, eavesdropping in the garden, had overheard Snape arguing with Karkaroff.

"Those two are hiding something!" Harry declared firmly to Wade. "They used their first names with each other!"

"So?" Wade replied. "Harry, professors have friends, ordinary relationships. Isn’t that normal?"

"Not with Snape!" Harry insisted stubbornly. "I can’t imagine him having friends—"

He paused, then added, "If he does, they’d probably be ingredients already prepared in a cauldron."

"Leave Snape’s friendships alone, Harry," Hermione said, tapping him lightly on the shoulder with her feather quill. "Have you figured out the secret of the Golden Egg yet?"

Wade blinked.

"No," Harry said, halfheartedly. "I’m still working on it…"

He paused, then reluctantly added, "Cedric suggested last night… that I take the egg to the Prefects’ Bathroom and soak it in the water."

Hermione froze. "...Bath? Soaking it?"

Then she noticed Wade’s expression—something distant, almost strange.

"What do you think, Wade?"

"I…" Wade looked at Harry. "Did I ever tell you I already know what the egg’s clue means?"

"What?!" Harry seized Wade’s arm, eyes wide. "You’ve solved it? When? What does the scream mean?"

Then he remembered. "You never told me."

"Sorry," Wade rubbed the back of his neck. "I thought I had."

He recounted the song he’d heard.

"Put the Golden Egg in water, and the scream turns into the song of the Merpeople. I’d suggest you listen for yourself—just to make sure our clues match."

Harry nodded silently, committing Wade’s words to memory.

He wasn’t willing to accept Cedric’s help—he still despised Cedric. But if Wade was warning him? That was different.

(End of Chapter)

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