At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 76 No Great Generals in Shu

At the end of the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor, under the trapdoor.

There was no wind, only the stirring of magic.

In the center of the stone chamber, the Mirror of Eris reflected an aged yet extremely imposing figure.

Albus Dumbledore was holding the Elder Wand, its tip resting on the stone slab at the bottom of the Magic Mirror.

"Sizzle—"

The sound of friction echoed in the sealed room.

As the tip of the staff slid, ancient runes were forcibly etched into the Hogwarts foundation stone, which had remained unchanged for centuries.

"Protect all — Spatial anchoring — Malicious perception —"

Dumbledore chanted in a low voice, speaking very quickly. Some of the obscure spells did not even belong to the modern magic system, but originated from the forbidden realm that he had discussed with Gellert Grindelwald half a century ago.

A magic similar to Felix Felicis that can bring good fortune to everyone who has "justice" and "love" in their heart.

However, if one attempts to reshape the world and grant wizards absolute dominion, it seems that one will be cursed, just as Grindelwald suffered.

Gellert never believed in so-called "fate" back then. He believed that the will of a genius could override it, and thus he suffered the heaviest backlash.

Every radical decision was thwarted by coincidence, and every glorious expedition was destroyed by accident.

Grindelwald faced the loneliness of being ruthlessly rejected by the times.

This is exactly what Dumbledore did in 1945.

In the final moments of that epic battle, Dumbledore did not win solely through superior magical power.

At that moment, he completely abandoned all the rebellious ideals of his youth; this was his defection and sacrifice.

Amidst the countless incantations, the world irreversibly slid toward the side representing the existing order.

It was a "baptism," on which Dumbledore personally sent his dearest friend to the grave called Nurmengard, and at the same time used this rune to seal the entire magical world with peace.

He locked the last door that led to madness and change.

He tamed miracles, made wizards mediocre, and allowed even earth-shattering powers to dissolve under the influence of "love" and "responsibility."

"As long as any malice exceeding the threshold appears in this stone chamber—" Dumbledore straightened up, watching the obscure array patterns on the ground gradually disappear beneath the stone slabs, "—then luck will begin to turn." He murmured to himself, as if speaking to his shadow, forever imprisoned in the tower, "The greedy will stumble because of impatience, and the violent will make mistakes because of arrogance."

Harry doesn't need the magic to defeat that person; as long as he holds that sacrificial love in his heart, this stone chamber, this land, even this world, will become his most steadfast ally.

Here, Dumbledore could even sense that he could define who was righteous and who was evil, and thereby allocate the fate of the world.

"And everyone here, including Harry Potter, will be instantly teleported to my headmaster's office, ignoring Hogwarts' anti-Apparition spell."

This was an absolute get-out-of-jail-free card, and also an iron curtain he had erected at the cost of tearing apart the castle's magical defenses.

"Ingenious spatial displacement."

With the rustling of his robes, Severus Snape emerged, gazing thoughtfully at the remaining magical runes on the ground.

"It seems that our great White Wizard, in order to protect that savior, can even trample on the thousand-year-old spatial restrictions of Hogwarts at will."

If the four founders were alive, they would probably applaud your "privileges."

"These are extraordinary times, Severus." Dumbledore ignored his sarcasm, putting his wand back in his sleeve. "The soul within Quirrell is recovering at a much faster pace than I anticipated."

The unicorn's blood drove him completely mad; he dared to use Avada Kedavra directly in the Forbidden Forest—I can't let Harry test his courage in front of a Dark Lord who can cast a killing curse.

"That's exactly what I don't understand," Snape said, walking to the Magic Mirror with a furrowed brow and a sinister look in his eyes. "Now that you've realized he's an uncontrollable madman, why don't you go to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office right now and twist his garlic-smelling head off?"

You still want Potter to confront him?

"Because prophecy needs a turning point, and Harry needs a victory."

1

Dumbledore turned around. "If I kill Quirrell now, Voldemort will escape again and lurk in places we can't see."

I must utterly crush him here, under the temptation of the Philosopher's Stone, at the moment when he thought victory was in his grasp.

Only in this way can Harry have a few years of relatively safe growth.

Snape looked away in disgust: "A period of growth that was paid for with one's life."

So, you called me here tonight just to show me your disgusting savior-making plan?

"No, Severus."

Dumbledore approached him, his expression more grave than ever before. "I summoned you because there's an invisible hand on the chessboard."

He pulled an object from his pocket—a few shards of glass covered in dirt, which should have been part of some kind of sphere, and he could still faintly smell the pungent odor of gunpowder.

"That prank gadget that affected the Killing Curse in the Forbidden Forest and looped 'I'm a complete idiot' in a vulgar tone in mid-air."

Dumbledore stared at the fragments. "I examined the wreckage."

It contained high-purity explosive powder, inscribed with complex delayed-trigger runes, and a type of—advanced polymorph.

Snape stared at the fragments. "Are you telling me that besides Quirrell, that madman, there's another dangerous individual at Hogwarts who can disguise advanced alchemy as the Weasley twins' trick right under your nose?"

"Not only that. This thing appeared at just the right time."

It not only saved Harry's life, but also perfectly disguised a dark magic attack as a farce of students using prank props, and even shut me up from the Ministry of Magic officials.

Dumbledore looked up, his eyes filled with apprehension. "Severus, I don't need you to investigate those Gryffindor cubs."

I want you to use your connections in Slytherin, and even your old contacts in Knockturn Alley, to investigate whether any extremely unusual alchemical materials have recently entered Hogwarts.

I need to know who in this castle is treating Quirrell, and even me, like characters on a stage.

Snape's eyes flickered, then he nodded. "As you wish."

"There's one last thing."

Dumbledore walked toward the exit of the Chamber of Secrets, his back to Snape, and said, "Tomorrow morning, Fudge will happen to receive an anonymous tip about a threat to Hogwarts."

He would immediately send me a strongly worded urgent letter demanding that I appear before the Ministry of Magic in London for questioning.

Snape looked up. "You're leaving school? At this time?"

"I have to leave."

"Only when the sheepdog leaves the sheepfold will the hungry wolf pounce on its long-coveted prey without any hesitation."

"Where are you going?"

"I'll always be in the principal's office, Severus."

Dumbledore pushed open the wooden door and walked into the corridor, leaving only the words: "I will watch the images transmitted back by the Mirror of Erised, watch those children walk into this place. Until the moment the spell is triggered—I will personally go to fetch my champion."

Dumbledore didn't turn around, but he could imagine the mockery and bitterness in the eyes behind him.

It does not matter.

Severus Snape is a poisoned blade; as long as it is aimed at the right enemy, a few more barbs on the hilt are no problem.

At dusk, Dumbledore stood on the path leading to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Da, da, da————"

The footsteps were hesitant and heavy, accompanied by the rustling of a long robe.

Neville Longbottom, carrying a pot of wilted Mibumibo, was sweating profusely as he walked down the corridor. Although he had received verbal reassurance from the headmaster for his "bravery" after the dragon incident, his deep-seated inferiority complex and fear of the unknown still made him as easily frightened as a startled bird.

Especially lately, Harry and Ron have been plotting some terrible scheme in the common room, and he, as the new "third person," is tormented by nightmares every day.

As for the former Hermione Granger, she now displays a cold attitude.

Every night, she would curl up in the corner of the Gryffindor common room.

Normal conversations were fine, but whenever Harry tried to talk to her with that savior-like sense of mission, or when Ron told jokes, Hermione wouldn't even lift an eyelid. She would just keep a cold face and skillfully cast the Earplugs spell on herself.

Neville caught Hermione's gaze several times.

Those eyes no longer held the impatience, worry, or lecturing tone of the past.

Instead, there is a sense of rational, detached detachment.

This silence—a silence that reveals all yet chooses to stand idly by—only fuels Neville's despair.

Good afternoon, Neville.

A gentle voice suddenly rang out in the corridor.

Neville shuddered in fright, nearly dropping the flowerpot in his hand.

He looked up in alarm and saw the principal, who was wearing a dark purple robe and had a kind smile.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Neville stammered, instinctively holding the flowerpot to his chest. "I—I just came back from the greenhouse—"

"Relax, child. Hogwarts isn't so strict that students aren't allowed to tend to plants after school."

Dumbledore smiled and stepped forward, reaching out to stroke the leaves of the potted Mibumibo.

"Professor Sprout mentioned you to me, Neville. She said you have an amazing intuition for herbalism."

Dumbledore withdrew his hand and looked at the trembling boy before him. "This is a very precious talent."

You see, in this castle, many are skilled in dazzling, destructive spells, but few truly understand how to communicate with the earth, the roots, and the silent life within.

Neville froze, his face flushing red: "I—I just can't remember the spell, Professor."

I'd rather work with the soil than use a wand.

"Everyone has their own way of fighting the darkness." Dumbledore turned around and gestured for Neville to walk slowly forward with him.

His tone shifted to that of someone telling a bedtime story. "You know, Neville. When I was young, I encountered a very troublesome plant." Dumbledore seemed lost in thought. "It grew in dark, damp underground. Its vines were like venomous snakes; once they sensed their prey's struggle, they would coil around it frantically, and the more panicked and resisting it was, the tighter it would strangle it."

Neville was overjoyed; his obsession with herbalism led him to blurt out: "Devil's Web!"

"Snare! Professor, that's a devil's net! If you struggle too much, it will break your bones!"

"A very accurate judgment, Neville, Gryffindor +5 points."

Dumbledore stopped and looked at him approvingly. "So, our fine herbalist, if you—or your friends—accidentally fall into such a dark and perilous situation that could strangle you at any moment."

What would you do if you didn't have a wand, or if you forgot all your spells because of excessive fear?

"I—I'll tell them not to move." Neville's voice trembled, but he was extremely certain. "The Devil's Web has no sight; it only responds to kinetic energy and resistance. As long as you completely relax and pretend you're a stone, it will get bored and the vines will loosen—"

"But that's not enough, is it?" Dumbledore coaxed in a low voice. "In an emergency, and panic is a human instinct, not everyone can relax in a desperate situation."

"Then—light it!"

"The Devil's Web prefers darkness and dampness, and it is most afraid of fire and strong light!"

It will immediately retreat as soon as there is a flame, even the faintest flame!

Dumbledore didn't speak immediately. He looked at Neville's confidence, which stemmed from answering the question correctly.

This is exactly what he needs.

A student who can't even cast a Levitation spell properly in regular exams can become the decisive factor when faced with a specific death trap.

It's a pity that the clever Granger left them, otherwise he wouldn't have needed to make such a conspicuous arrangement.

"A very good lesson, Mr. Longbottom."

Dumbledore's smile grew even more amiable. He reached out and patted Neville's shoulder firmly, as if he were treating a true hero.

"Remember what you said today, Neville. Fear is like a devil's web; the more you struggle, the deeper it drags you into the abyss."

But as long as you stay relaxed, in your most desperate moments, try to light a small flame—

Dumbledore paused, his tone becoming increasingly certain, "I believe that when that moment truly arrives, you will not only be able to save yourself, but you will also be able to save your companions who have been blinded. Because you possess a wisdom they lack."

Neville's eyes widened slightly, and his chest heaved violently.

He felt an unprecedented sense of mission flowing into his body through the principal's palm.

"I will remember, Professor. Relax—find the fire." Neville nodded solemnly.

"Go on, child. It's almost dinnertime."

Neville, carrying the pot of Mibumibo, walked with much lighter steps, even giving the illusion of being proud and arrogant, and strode quickly toward the Gryffindor Tower.

The corridor returned to silence.

The experienced chess player straightened his cuffs and turned to walk toward the principal's office.

"The patch for the first level is complete."

Next—we need to find out if the true demon king, capable of killing, is already eager to take the bait.