Hogwarts Study Panel.

Chapter 592 (590): The Chase (4.2k)

Three months.

Voldemort has been back in the game for three whole months.

During those ninety days, Dumbledore found him four times.

The first time was in an abandoned castle on the Bulgarian border.

Voldemort is there trying to access a secret chamber that is rumored to contain dark magic texts.

At midnight, Dumbledore burst through the window, and Gryffindor's sword grazed Voldemort's ribs, severing half of his arm. Voldemort Apparated in the blood mist, leaving behind the arm and all the books in the Chamber of Secrets.

The second time was in a cave deep in the Carpathian Mountains.

Voldemort gathered the first group of returning Death Eaters there—three of them, all of them the most fanatical followers.

Dumbledore appeared at the cave entrance midway through the gathering, sealed the entire cave with a massive freezing spell, and then forced Voldemort out with Fiendfyre.

One of the three Death Eaters did not escape.

Voldemort didn't care.

The third time was only eleven days later.

In the dense forests bordering Albania and Montenegro, Voldemort attempted to create a new Horcrux at the cost of a traveling wizard's life:

Halfway through the ceremony, Dumbledore emerged from the depths of the forest.

He destroyed the unfinished Horcrux container, forcing Voldemort to fight while his magic was not yet fully restored.

The battle lasted for nearly an hour. Voldemort's left leg bone was shattered, and the serpent's tail was severely burned by Fiendfire.

But Voldemort eventually escaped.

The fourth time, Voldemort hid in a Muggle city.

He thought Dumbledore wouldn't dare use large-scale magic in the Muggle community.

He was wrong.

Dumbledore spent a whole week evacuating the entire neighborhood with an elaborate lie—a gas leak warning—before appearing at 3 a.m. in the abandoned factory where Voldemort was hiding.

There were no bystanders or witnesses in that battle, only a huge crater more than ten meters deep that was broken open in the factory ruins.

Voldemort lost half his face—literally.

The newly grown flesh was burned by some kind of unhealable magic, exposing the bones and muscles underneath, making his already terrifying face even more grotesque.

He did not choose to repair it.

He was left with this scar, which serves as a daily reminder that Dumbledore is no longer the headmaster who cowers behind the walls of Hogwarts awaiting prophecies.

Dumbledore is an old madman, and perhaps there's a little madman hiding behind him.

At this moment, deep in an abandoned mine in Yorkshire, northern England, Voldemort is curled up on a protruding rock.

A giant snake coiled around his feet, its huge triangular head gazing intently at its master with its golden eyes.

Voldemort had his eyes closed.

four times.

Dumbledore always found him first.

Each time, it was at his most vulnerable moment—either his magic was exhausted, the ritual was interrupted, or he was being transferred.

Dumbledore always seemed to know where he was, what he was doing, and always appeared at the moment when he least wanted to fight.

"Again."

Voldemort said in a low, hoarse, and tired voice.

This was the first time in three months that he truly felt exhausted.

After three repairs, his new body had gradually adapted to high-intensity magical combat. However, the mental exhaustion—the suffocating feeling of every step being anticipated and every action precisely disrupted—was driving him mad.

"How did he find me?! How could he?!"

Voldemort stared coldly at the giant snake, roaring madly.

Behind him, the two servants were trembling.

"Where is Lucius?"

Voldemort gave them a cold glance.

"I don't know, my master."

The wizard with the terrifyingly white right hand said.

"Someone betrayed me."

After a moment of silence, Voldemort spoke, his voice not loud, but it echoed repeatedly in the mine.

The newly arrived giant snake raised its head and emitted a low hiss.

"This person doesn't have a worm's tail."

Voldemort said, "He is dead. And those madmen in Azkaban—they don't know who I am now. They are the men around me, the men I sent to gather again. The men who knelt at my feet, weeping and swearing they never betrayed me."

He stood up and began pacing around the mine.

With this movement, his left leg staggered slightly. In the third encounter, Dumbledore had used Transfiguration to create a stone spike that pierced his thigh bone.

The wound has healed, but the new bone is not yet strong enough.

His right cheek was burned by magic during the fourth encounter, covering half of his face. His muscles were stiff, making his already terrifying appearance even more ferocious.

"Lucius was the first to know about the Bulgarian secret room. That secret room was related to the Malfoy family's maternal grandfather."

He stopped and looked coldly at the absent wizard. "For the second Carpathian Gathering, I had him inform Walton McNeill. He did, and then Dumbledore sealed off the meeting place in advance."

The third time, I deliberately didn't tell him anything. That time, I wasn't intercepted beforehand—he just appeared on my escape route, as if following the magical fluctuations. This means that the third time, he didn't rely on intelligence.

The fourth time, Lucius suggested I hide in a Muggle city. He said Dumbledore wouldn't dare to cause a major disturbance in Muggle territory.

I listened. Then Dumbledore evacuated the entire block, blasting a crater right above my hiding place.

He turned to the giant serpent, its scarlet pores burning in the darkness.

"He was telling Dumbledore everything I did. He thought I wouldn't notice. He packaged every piece of information as loyal advice—"

Voldemort's voice was soft, with an unnatural calm, "Watch, I will kill him."

The giant snake let out a hoarse hiss.

Voldemort's lips slowly curled upwards, his half-undamaged face smiling, while the other half, wounded and unable to perform the same gesture, presented a more grotesque contrast.

He turned around, took two steps toward the mine exit, and then stopped.

"I should have thought of that. He pretended to be afraid of that old madman, but his fear was real."

Fear makes a person waver, and wavering leads to negotiations. He probably still wants Draco to graduate peacefully, and I happened to hear that the kid is behaving quite well at Hogwarts. Loyalty doesn't come cheap.

The giant snake slid to his feet.

Voldemort reached out and stroked the snake scales.

"Lucius must die—"

His voice grew softer and softer, as soft as venom dripping into clear water.

Suddenly, he heard birds chirping ahead. Voldemort paused, then quickly looked into the depths of the dense forest.

Then, prepare to escape.

Fortunately, it seems to have been a false alarm.

But Voldemort's expression became even more ferocious.

"He'll come again!"

He muttered to himself, "He'll keep coming until he kills me, or until he dies. He's gone mad."

Dumbledore's tactics are working.

Voldemort wouldn't admit it, but he knew it in his heart.

The defeat itself was an insult to him, harder to heal than physical wounds.

He began to frequently recall past glories—the moments when Death Eaters groveled on the ground, the moments when the Minister of Magic humbly begged for a ceasefire.

Memories are a kind of anesthetic, but he also knows that too much anesthetic can dull one's senses.

"The rules are about to change—after Lucius's death—"

He stopped in the middle of the mine pit.

Voldemort turned around and looked at the ventilation shaft leading from the mine to the surface.

A faint ray of moonlight shone through the crack, illuminating the half of his mutilated face.

"Ministry of Magic. Is Fudge still in power? Maybe it's been replaced, but it doesn't matter. All the officials in the Ministry of Magic are the same; they're afraid of war, afraid of chaos, afraid of losing their jobs."

Some of them swore allegiance to me long ago—they owe me a debt, and it is time for them to pay it.

Let the giants cause some trouble in the Scottish Highlands, let the werewolves launch some attacks in London—keep the Ministry of Magic busy!

"Voldemort said sternly."

His servants immediately disappeared.

Only one servant remained, who had just appeared, handsome and with a longing look on his face.

He knew his master's plans all too well, and he knew all too well the people at the Ministry of Magic.

They will send the Aurors to investigate these threats and seek help from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore will have to divert his energy to deal with Fudge, the Daily Prophet, and the inquiries from the International Federation of Wizards.

"Go ahead."

Voldemort gently stroked his face. "Go find someone who still has some connections at Hogwarts. He's become timid in the last three years, but it shouldn't be too difficult for him to find out a few names."

"Report to me any third-year or older student who has shown unusual behavior in the past three years, any student who has received individual tutoring from Dumbledore, and any student who unexpectedly displays magic far exceeding their peers in class. Then I will screen them myself."

Then, he raised his head and strode toward the mine exit.

"Dumbledore, you will grow old eventually."

When Dumbledore arrived at the border of Hogwarts, it was still dark.

The snow had stopped, but the grey clouds still hung low, shrouding the entire castle in a somber silence.

He didn't go through the main entrance.

He circled around the edge of the Forbidden Forest to the side of the castle, and then entered Hogwarts through a rarely used side door.

At this time, the corridor was empty.

He slowly concealed himself, avoiding a young wizard who always got up very early.

In the corridor, most of the portraits were dozing off, except for an old wizard with a thick beard on the second floor who opened one eye, then quickly closed it again, pretending not to have seen anything.

Dumbledore silently watched the young wizard practice Transfiguration for a while, took a sip of his potion, then sat down by the courtyard, waiting for his magic to return, and caught the snow in his palm.

His acting headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, walked over from a distance and took the young wizard's hand.

Minerva McGonagall was his most outstanding Transfiguration student, and it was an arrangement made by Dumbledore long ago for her to teach him Transfiguration.

Then he smiled softly.

The war has begun.

But he doesn't need to know.

He should be at Hogwarts, learning magic.

He thought that one day the child would ask about the war, and why.

By then, he would already be prepared for the answer: if he died before Voldemort, then his death would answer for him.

How far can an old wizard go for the future?

He left quietly. The black-haired little wizard seemed to realize something, glanced at the portrait, and then gently shook his head.

Headmaster Dumbledore hasn't returned for a long time.

Sheen hadn't seen him in a long time.

He thought of him more than once.

"What are you thinking about?"

Professor McGonagall asked.

"Headmaster Dumbledore."

Sheen answered honestly.

"It's best not to think about him—a school principal who's been gone for so long without any explanation!"

Professor McGonagall suddenly became more irritable.

Sheen didn't dare to answer; he looked out the window.

From this angle, you can see the treetops at the edge of the forbidden forest.

The edge of the Forbidden Forest appeared exceptionally deep before dawn.

A ray of sunlight pierced through the gaps in the tree canopy, illuminating the ground covered with fallen leaves.

The morning breeze has risen, causing the bare branches to rub against each other and make a clanging sound.

Dumbledore stood under an old oak tree.

His hands were tucked into his sleeves, and his long, silvery-white beard fluttered slightly in the wind.

He didn't bring his wand—or at least he didn't take it out.

This is not a fighting stance.

This is the posture of waiting.

He was waiting for someone.

A person who should have been by Voldemort's side, a pawn that will be permanently removed from Voldemort's chessboard after tonight.

Footsteps echoed through the woods.

A figure wrapped in a dark green travel cloak emerged from the shadows of the trees, the hood pulled low, obscuring most of his face.

Lucius Malfoy stopped five steps away from him.

He raised his hand and took off his hood, revealing a face that looked much more haggard than it had three months ago.

Her blonde hair was still neatly combed back, but there were a few more gray hairs at her temples.

There were two deep shadows under his eyes.

"Dumbledore."

He said.

His voice was very soft, but he could hear a slight tremor in it.

He cleared his throat and repeated himself, this time more steadily: "You received my message."

"received."

Dumbledore said, "I need to talk to you about your situation."

Lucius did not answer.

After a while, he said wearily, "What do I have to worry about?"

"You've been discovered."

Dumbledore said.

"What?"

Lucius paused for a moment.

"You've been discovered. Now, you're back."

Dumbledore repeated himself, his tone exactly the same as the first time—not heavy, not fast, but leaving no room for negotiation.

Lucius's face changed three colors in a few seconds: first deathly pale, then flushed with anger, and finally a gray that was close to collapse.

"Your voice faltered, then returned, 'You never intended for me to continue being your mole from the beginning.'"

"I did use you at first."

He paused, then continued, "But in betraying Voldemort, you were also being used by him. He already suspects you; you should know that."

Lucius's lips trembled slightly, and he finally uttered only one word: "—Yes."

Dumbledore nodded.

Will you win?

"Lucius asked."

I think so.

Dumbledore said, "But to be honest, I can't guarantee that."

Lucius fell silent.

He stood there, looking into Dumbledore's blue eyes, still bright in the twilight, for a second, five seconds...

Ten seconds.

"You've done a great job. You've secured a future for the Malfoy family, haven't you, Lucius? I must say, your ideas have never been too bad."

Dumbledore's deep gaze scrutinized Malfoy.

"hehe--"

Lucius chuckled politely twice.

"I will tell him that you are the one I left behind."

Dumbledore seemed to read his mind and said calmly.

A fanatical glint flashed in Lucius's eyes.

"But you'd better be prepared, Lucius, for your estate, your property—"

"Dumbledore said slowly."

It was as if they were certain of an inevitable revenge.

"oh--"

Lucius looked distressed, but quickly regained his composure. "A necessary investment."

Dumbledore scrutinized Lucius carefully; he was indeed a shrewd businessman.

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