The Silent Witch of Hogwarts

Chapter 611 Godric Valley

The winter wind blew across Godric Valley, causing snow to slowly fall from the small statue in the center of the square.

It's now deep winter, and the Christmas spirit of the past Christmas is melting much faster than the snow. In this small town late at night, a slightly dilapidated little house is flickering with a faint candlelight.

Even though only one window was open, owls continued to come and go. A somewhat clumsy owl flapped its wings and landed on the table by the window.

A pair of bird claws made a soft "patter" sound as they stepped on the letter.

The tall, elderly man looked gently at the owl that seemed to be causing trouble, then reached out and gently stroked its feathers.

Incidentally, I also took a letter from under its feet.

The envelope of the letter had no markings, and inside there was no sender's name, only a few lines of text.

But as Dumbledore read these few lines, he frowned slightly.

"Clatter".

A knock came at the door, and the old man slightly raised his head and said, "Please come in."

"Headmaster Dumbledore—Headmaster Dumbledore!" The one who walked in was none other than Nymphadora Tonks, a member of the Order of the Phoenix with rainbow-colored hair.

She practically burst through the door, her hurried manner nearly tripping over a few owls hopping around on the floor.

"Miss Tonks, don't rush," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Please sit down—how about some coffee?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore—there's no time left!" Tonks looked at Dumbledore anxiously, gesturing wildly as she said, "Something's happened at Hogwarts!"

"The Ministry of Magic—the Ministry of Magic is besieging Hogwarts!"

"I know." Dumbledore's expression remained unchanged, still gentle. He bowed slightly and said, "Please sit down."

"————" Dumbledore's calm demeanor seemed to have calmed Tonks down as well. She pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and finally sat down slowly opposite Dumbledore.

"What should we do, Headmaster Dumbledore!" Even after sitting down, she couldn't help but ask, "Shall we go back to Hogwarts?"

"They need us now."

"————" Dumbledore shook his head slightly upon hearing this, then slowly picked up the letter on the table and glanced at it.

"Miss Tonks—did you come from Black Manor?"

"Ah—yes!" Tonks nodded. "Remus and the others have already gone to Hogwarts."

"Remus?" Dumbledore's eyes lit up slightly, and he smiled as if he had discovered something.

"Then there's no need to be too nervous." He shook his head and said, "Hogwarts not only has the support of the Order of the Phoenix—Miss Hamilton is also there."

“Miss Hamilton is very capable, but she is still—still so young—” Tonks said, pursing her lips. “She needs our help.”

"Besides, Hogwarts is too big; relying solely on them wouldn't be enough—"

"Miss Tonks," Dumbledore said, his eyes fixed on Tonks, "I have a question for you: If your hand were injured—what would be the first thing to do?"

"Of course it's treatment—Headmaster Dumbledore?" Tonks said, pursing his lips. "But what does this have to do with Hogwarts?"

"But what if ordinary treatments don't work?" Dumbledore didn't answer her question but continued.

"Then... then we'll increase the treatment?" Miss Tonks pursed her lips, a little uncertain.

Dumbledore, still smiling, replied, "A more radical treatment would cost you your arm."

"Then...then let's just go with the regular treatment?" Dumbledore chuckled at Miss Tonks' sudden change of heart.

"But ordinary treatment means that it will never be cured—while radical treatment, though it may cost an arm, can eradicate the disease." Dumbledore said, bowing slightly as he picked up a piece of paper and began to write.

As he wrote, he continued, "That's the situation now."

"Then...then are we going to give up on Hogwarts?" Tonks murmured, looking at Dumbledore, seemingly in disbelief.

"Of course not." Dumbledore said, laughing again. "Miss Tonks, I don't think I ever said Hogwarts was that arm."

"The arm I was referring to—is the Ministry of Magic." He extended his arm.

"The Ministry of Magic?" Tonks looked confused; she didn't quite understand what Dumbledore meant.

"Miss Tonks, you're Max in disguise, aren't you?"

"Yes—yes."

"Then I have a task for you," Dumbledore said, folding the letter on his desk and putting it into an envelope.

"You know Director Scrinker, right?"

"Of course I know him." Tonks nodded. "He used to be my boss."

"Then please give this letter to him," Dumbledore said, handing the envelope to Tonks. "Please give it to him yourself."

"He's right outside Hogwarts right now—there are hundreds of Aurors there—and you're the only one who can accomplish this task."

Dumbledore's serious expression made Tonks purse her lips, and she nodded as if she understood something: "I understand, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"I will definitely hand it over to him personally."

"Um."

Dumbledore nodded knowingly, then watched as Tonks was about to leave the room when he suddenly remembered something and tapped the table.

"Please wait a moment, Miss Tonks."

"What's wrong, Headmaster Dumbledore?" Tonks retracted the foot he had already stepped out and turned to look at Dumbledore.

"Remus is a good man," Dumbledore said slowly, a hint of a smile in his voice. "And he's also very reliable."

"Ah—" Dumbledore's words made Tonks suddenly stammer. She waved her hand and then said somewhat awkwardly, "I understand—I understand what you mean!"

With that, she blushed and quickly left.

Dumbledore watched her figure disappear into the heavy snow outside the window, then nodded gently.

He casually picked up the newspaper on the table, looked at the portrait of Loila marked with a huge red X, and suddenly smiled.

But soon, as if remembering something, he suppressed his smile and stood up to look at the portrait hanging on the wall. It was of a rather well-behaved and lovely girl who was quietly looking at Dumbledore with a smile on her face.

Gazing quietly at the portrait, Dumbledore reached out and rested his hand on the frame. He seemed to have aged considerably, his once vigorous demeanor slightly diminished. He also bent down gently, speaking to the portrait or, it was unclear, to himself.

"You're always causing me trouble—"