A magical journey that begins in Azkaban.

Chapter 566: Wind of Revival
Roger was somewhat unconvinced by the news brought by Amelia and fell into deep doubt.

He subconsciously took out the badge of the Jackdaw Magic Society from his pocket and gently stroked the Jackdaw's feathers with his fingertips.

The members of the club can use it to communicate with each other, but Neville has already quit the magic club. Even if he wants to do something, it's too late...

Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind like lightning, "Wait, I have a phoenix."

His eyes suddenly lit up and he blurted out, "Mom, Maria and I are going out for a while."

"Now?" Jessica was setting up the tableware and hurriedly reminded: "Don't run too far, you have to catch the train soon."

"Got it, Mom~" Roger responded with a smile and waved to Maria.

Phoenix gently grasped his shoulders, and in the blink of an eye, a bright red flame rose up around him.

It gradually wrapped around Rogge's body, and the next second, it disappeared without a trace.

Jessica looked at the place where her son had just stood and whispered to herself, "With the Phoenix, we don't have to worry about the siege of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. It would be even more perfect if we could find a magic item that can resist the Unforgivable Curse."

At this time, the British wizarding world was shrouded in a tense and terrifying atmosphere.

In the sky, a large number of Aurors were patrolling back and forth on flying broomsticks, vigilantly scanning every corner below. On the ground, many wizards wearing pointed hats were walking through the city streets and rural fields.

Their wands flashed as they searched for any sign of the Dark Lord and Harry Potter.

At the same time, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Sorrow was overcrowded, and the corridors were crowded with anxiously waiting wizards and witches. The air in the hospital was filled with the smell of potions and the low groans of patients.

In an intensive care unit on the fifth floor, Dumbledore was being examined and treated by a doctor.

He was half leaning on the bed, and although there was a smile on his pale face, there was a hint of fatigue in his eyes.

"Nico, I'm sorry to bother you again." He coughed twice and slowly raised his regrown right hand. He tentatively grasped it and then slowly released it.

"No, it's nothing." Nicolas Flamel folded his hands over his chest and walked silently. "I am glad that I could help you in the last moments of my life."

He carefully cleared the table, then slowly took out a magic item from his pocket.

As a wizard over 600 years old, although his mind was still sharp, his bones were somewhat loose. Therefore, Nicolas Flamel's movements were always slow and slight, but with an indescribable elegance.

It was an exquisite gray-silver frame, on which a huge crystal ball was fixed. Inside the sphere, white light mist slowly rotated, and under the sunlight shining through the window, it looked like a nebula in a distant galaxy, mysterious and beautiful.

Dumbledore adjusted his posture slightly, turning his head to stare at it closely.

Under the focused gaze of the two old wizards, the light mist in the crystal ball began to churn violently, like a miniature storm.

Gradually, blurry images began to take shape in the sphere, and the prophetic picture slowly unfolded before them, giving the information that Dumbledore was most concerned about.

A heart-pounding scene appeared: In the sky, Harry Potter was riding a flying broom. His figure was looming in the clouds. The wind blew his black hair, revealing the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

Following closely behind was Remus Lupin, his face full of anxiety, shouting something loudly.

The scene suddenly changed, as if pulled by an invisible hand.

Only half of the two-story building appeared in sight, and Voldemort's snake-like face looked particularly hideous. Next to him stood Snape, expressionless, with a black robe covering him like night.

The next second, the light mist changed again, transforming into an ancient cemetery. A guardian statue stood quietly, as if staring at them.

Nicolas Flamel asked: "Is this England?" His eyes were still on the crystal ball, waiting for the next picture to appear.

Dumbledore spoke slowly: "Yes, that is Godric's Hollow. The Potter family has lived there for generations."

"The kid riding the broom just now is the Harry that Tom is looking for."

Just as he was about to stand up and take a closer look, a new image appeared in the crystal ball.

The faces of Longbottom and Bella appeared alternately, and it was unclear what was happening. A flash of fire passed by, and Rogue and his Phoenix stood at the door of the Department of Mysteries.

"That prophecy!" Dumbledore sat up straight and his face changed suddenly.

He realized Voldemort's purpose and hurriedly told Trelawney all the prophecies. "Nicol, is there a way to crack the prophecy?"

"Albus, you should know better than me." Nicolas Flamel shook his head slowly and explained softly: "Whether in England or France, all prophecies that have appeared in the magical world will eventually come true in some way."

"We ourselves are part of the prophecy. Even our resistance is in the prophecy."

"As an old friend, I have to remind you of one thing." Nicolas Flamel stared at him with his gray-blue eyes. "Trying to tamper with the prophecy will bring disaster upon yourself. Too many wizards in history have paid a heavy price for such attempts."

Albus was silent after hearing this. His eyes became deep as he thought about the chess game that was far more grand than what was happening before his eyes.

At this moment, no one could understand the real thoughts in the old wizard's mind, not even his old friend, Nicolas Flamel.

A gentle and complex smile appeared on Nicolas Flamel's face, which contained the understanding between long-time friends and the concern of a mentor.

During his long life, from the Middle Ages to the modern times, Nico witnessed the rise and fall of countless extraordinary wizards.

Even by his standards as a "living fossil", Albus Dumbledore is undoubtedly the most outstanding one among them.

What was even more rare was that this old friend of his had a good character and adhered to the creed of the White Wizard. He used his powerful spiritual power to overcome the many desires in his heart.

The ancient castle that has stood for a thousand years - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is both an external constraint and an internal practice for Albus.

It limits the natural ambitions of power and purifies souls that are unwilling to be ordinary.

However, Nicolas Flamel keenly realized that Dumbledore had done something through the content of the prophecy and the images that flashed by in the crystal ball.

As an alchemist, he has little knowledge of prophecies, but his friend Cassandra Trelawney is a true seer.

Sybill Trelawney, who made the prophecy for Dumbledore, was his great-great-granddaughter.

"Albus, those three children..."

"Only two." Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his temple. "Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom were born at the end of July. And Roger Travis, his birthday is June 6th."

"In fact, no one in the wizarding world knew there was a young wizard of the right age in Azkaban until his name was written on the pen of admission."

Nicolas Flamel nodded thoughtfully. "Accidents are always unexpected. Just like magic, there are always things that are beyond our expectations."

Roger's name reminded him of a letter he had received not long ago.

"So far, the crystal ball has predicted no danger. Therefore, I suggest that you stay here and continue your treatment while waiting for the development of the situation."

"No!" Dumbledore refused, his eyes falling on the broken old wand, "I can't just sit there and watch. Harry's scar contains a fragment of Tom's soul, and that's what I'm most worried about.

I am afraid that if he is not guided, Harry may be controlled by Tom and become a dark wizard."

"You're saying that Tom accidentally created a Horcrux in Harry?"

"That's right." Dumbledore nodded helplessly, "That's why Harry was able to spy on Tom's vision, and why I have been keeping a close eye on his growth."

"If it wasn't for the accident, the prophecy should have ended long ago!"

Nicolas Flamel did not respond immediately, but pondered for a moment, then slowly spoke: "Albus, if it is true as you said, then the prophecy is no longer uncertain. He kept Harry, and the only answer left is Neville Longbottom."

"No, I will not give up Harry! Never!"

Nicolas Flamel looked at his old friend with understanding and sympathy in his eyes. He sighed softly and said in a gentle and slightly reproachful tone: "Albus, you are trying to make up for your mistakes, aren't you? But remember, Harry was never Tom's choice, but yours."

Dumbledore trembled slightly when he heard this, as if his secrets had been touched upon.

"Prophecy does not accept fraud." He continued: "Although I don't completely agree with your approach, I understand your feelings. After all, we are wizards, and we can't help but want to challenge fate and prophecy."

"This seems to be a trait that we are born with, just like the attachment of a moth to a flame." Nicolas Flamel opened the thick magic book and took out a small bottle of magic potion that was shining with emerald green light from the pages. "This is the Wind of Resurrection."

"It can restore you to your full strength for a short time. But remember, its effects are limited."

"Thank you, Nico." Albus hugged his old friend gratefully, and Nicolas Flamel's bones immediately made a cracking sound, "Sorry, I was too strong."

"It's okay." He then remembered something and reminded, "Garrick has a mysterious wand made of osmanthus wood. He said it's as good as the Elder Wand. You must be careful. The effect of the Wind of Resurrection can only last for 6 hours."

Albus nodded heavily and prepared to go to Ollivander's wand shop in Diagon Alley.

When his figure disappeared, Nicolas Flamel slowly turned around and cast his gaze towards the crystal ball again.

The light mist flowing in the ball suddenly changed dramatically, as if the wheel of fate was turning mercilessly. Nico held his breath and focused on the scene that was about to appear in the ball.

Dumbledore stood high in the air, his robes fluttering in the wind. The scene changed quickly, and a witch with a distorted face screamed and frantically lifted something.

Then, the sky was covered by thick dark clouds. Dumbledore's appearance changed dramatically, and he looked much older than Nicolas Flamel.

As it continued to show the future, black cracks exploded on the surface of the sphere, as if it was tightly grasped by a ghost hand from hell.

The entire crystal ball exuded a strange and terrifying aura, causing Nico to take a step back.

On the other side, in the Longbottom family’s manor, old lady Augusta was protecting her grandson Neville while fighting and retreating.

The dark creatures were like a surging tide, attacking in wave after wave, seemingly without end.

"Grandma, we have to go together!" Neville grabbed old lady Longbottom's sleeve tightly, his voice filled with both fear and determination.

Not far away, Neville's uncle was besieged by several Death Eaters and was caught in a dangerous and bitter battle.

The old lady's eyes sparkled with an unyielding fighting spirit. She waved her wand like a phantom, casting a series of powerful dark magic defense spells quickly and accurately.

Brilliant magical lights intertwined in the air, forming an indestructible line of defense, temporarily repelling the violent werewolves, bloodthirsty vampires and other dark creatures.

"Go!" Old Lady Longbottom's voice was as loud as thunder. "You must leave here immediately and go find Dumbledore. He will give an explanation to the Longbottom family."

When Neville heard this, his eyes instantly filled with tears and his throat choked, as if he was about to break down and cry in the next moment.

Seeing her grandson's reaction, the old lady frowned, with a hint of helplessness and blame in her tone: "How could there be a child as crybaby as you in the Longbottom family?"

She raised her old and wrinkled hand and gently stroked her grandson who was several heads taller than her. She couldn't help but sighed, "That Veela Delvina..."

The manor was already engulfed in flames, with thick smoke billowing. Staring at the burning home, the stubborn old lady Longbottom finally gave in: "If you really like that veela, marry her."

Without waiting for Neville to answer, she suddenly pushed her grandson into the fireplace behind her. In an instant, green flames rose into the air, enveloping Neville.

"Grandma! No!"

"Hey, old woman, you've been fooled!" A sharp laugh cut through the air. A witch with a nose stud and a hideous face walked out of the shadows, "The master doesn't want you, but this little fat guy."

With a ferocious smile on her lips, she said smugly, "The Ministry's Floo Network is in chaos. You're not naive enough to think that we're the only ones here, are you? No way?"

"Aren't you curious about where all those pure-blood Death Eaters have gone?"

"You...you guys!" Old Mrs. Longbottom woke up suddenly, a cold light like lightning flashed in her eyes, and the hand holding the wand trembled slightly with anger.

"Neville, grandma hurt you..." She growled in pain and gritted her teeth, "I will fight you!"

The witch snorted disdainfully, her wand already pointed at her: "Old woman, I want to see what kind of people the Longbottom family that Buck is avoiding is."

Although Augusta Longbottom was old, she was still strong and vigorous when wielding her wand. Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts spells flew out from the tip of her wand, and each movement was simple, yet steady and skillful.

She knew that this might be the last battle of her life, but she would never let the glory of the Longbottom family be humiliated.

The spells were like gorgeous fireworks blooming in the sky, each of which contained amazing power, and the trajectory was even more tricky and unpredictable. If it weren't for four against one, the old lady would have torn the disgusting witch to pieces.

"In such a prosperous magical world, why do weird, inferior wizards like you exist?" she shouted harshly.

"Because freedom equals chaos." A deep male voice rang out from the flames.

Rogue jumped out of the space, chanted a spell, and rushed towards the Dementors first.

A majestic silver light swept across half the field. The lifelike ravens made short, powerful calls and flew quickly towards the Dementors.

As for the wizards of the Longbottom family, in order to win, we have to make them suffer temporarily.

Anyway, the Longbottom family is notoriously stubborn and warlike, and Neville can only be regarded as the least Longbottom-like Longbottom.

For several years, the Dementors had been spreading the legend of the terrifying raven. When they saw the Patronus summoned by Rogge, they actually felt what fear was.

In an instant, this group of terrifying dark creatures fled in all directions.

"Escape? Too late!" Rogge flapped his wings and gathered the fire of the sky in his hands.

At the same moment, Maria swooped down, her sharp claws tearing through the tattered cloak of a Dementor.

The raven was not to be outdone. It killed Dementors like snow in a furnace. Any it touched would be hurt, and any it pecked would die.

The Death Eaters on the ground looked at Rogue, who was killing everyone in the sky and had entered a super god state. They were at a loss for a moment, and fear flooded their hearts like a tide.

At this moment, the roar of old lady Longbottom resounded across the battlefield: "Kill these bastards!"

This shout seemed to have triggered some kind of switch, and the wizards of the Longbottom family instantly became energized and burst out with amazing fighting power. With fanatical flames burning in their eyes, they rushed towards the nearest enemy regardless of everything.

The battle suddenly became extremely brutal. Some wizards gave up chanting spells and used their wands as daggers to stab the enemy's heart. Blood splattered and screams rang out one after another.

Other wizards cast armor spells on themselves and fought vampires with their bare hands, with the sound of fists hitting flesh. Others picked up objects around them - vases, chair legs, and even candlesticks, and ran around the werewolves howling.

Rogue turned the last Dementor into ashes and stared in amazement at the almost crazy battle scene below.

"Damn, if someone didn't know, they would think you were the werewolves." He couldn't help but mutter, "No wonder in the original book, Neville was slashing around with a sword. It turns out that this is the background of your Longbottom family."

"I even wonder if you have the blood of that barbarian from Gryffindor. This fighting style is indeed inherited from the same lineage."

"Elegant, stay elegant." He retracted his patronus and slowly landed in front of the old lady.

Old Mrs. Longbottom wiped her blood-stained wand and burned the vampire corpse at her feet into ashes.

She looked at Roger, then looked closely at the phoenix on his shoulder, "This is not Fawkes."

"Hey, how did you recognize it?"

"It's simple. Albus has seen many birds, so he will recognize them naturally."

(End of this chapter)