The Butcher of Hogsmeade

The boat didn't need to glide; when Dumbledore stepped onto it and retrieved the copper chain, it glided towards the center of the pool on its own; there was still no sound, no ripples, and it was as if there was no resistance at all.

"It's just like Charon's ferry, with the underworld behind that mist," Fabian muttered to himself, before being slapped hard on the head by Gideon.

Before the sound of the slap on Fabian's head had even faded, the small boat was swallowed by the mist. Strangely enough, those on the shore could see the green light and shadow in the center of the pool, but they couldn't see the small boat and Dumbledore, who were theoretically closer to them.

A deathly silence fell over the lakeside. With Dumbledore's departure, it seemed as if he had taken away everyone's sense of security as well; the immense psychological pressure brought by the darkness and silence instantly multiplied, making it hard for everyone to breathe.

"Guess what that pervert is hiding here?" Sirius finally couldn't help but speak up, trying to break the silence and relieve his inner fear.

"We'll know when Professor Dumbledore returns." Gideon displayed extreme trust in the old headmaster, completely disregarding the possibility of his failure, while also killing the conversation with a single sentence, as always.

"How many undead do you think are underwater?" Fabian changed the subject, his unease growing stronger, just like Sirius's.

Gideon shook his head, still only saying one thing: "There's definitely more than just the one who jumped up earlier."

"Absolutely, absolutely never talk to this guy when he's nervous." Fabian rolled his eyes and sighed, unable to resist complaining to Sirius. "I've known this since I was three, and it's been proven true for the next thirty years. It's absolutely torture."

Under Gideon's cold gaze, the two unreliable guys burst into laughter.

James did not participate in the conversation. He was the one closest to the water of all, always keeping three steps away from the shore, neither approaching nor retreating; he regarded himself as the last line of defense, wary of any of his companions accidentally crossing him to get closer to the pool.

Shen Hou also did not participate in the conversation. Instead, he nervously gripped his wand, making sure he was ready to activate "Blazing Flames" at any moment, but he didn't know when to do so. So, for no reason, he was anticipating a "signal" in his mind that he had no idea where it would come from or what its specific content would be.

He wished someone would tell him that it was time, now was the time, to chant the incantation!

Unfortunately, the cave was almost completely silent; Shen Hou's vision and hearing could not penetrate the thick darkness, and even the laughter of Fabian and his companions, who were so close, seemed to be far away.

If he weren't certain that his companions were all around him, Shen Hou couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't immediately turn around and run away, fleeing this hellish place as far as possible. He might be able to remain calm in front of Voldemort, but he might not be able to endure this long and agonizing ordeal of being in darkness and silence, not knowing where the end was, or what the future held or what the outcome would be.

"Dark magic can affect a person's mind. What you're thinking right now isn't necessarily your true emotional response." James noticed Shen Hou's unease and broke the silence.

Shen Hou took a deep breath and then exhaled: "I wasn't like this even when I was facing Voldemort."

“I understand, because I’ve faced him more than once myself,” James said. “When the Mystic stands before you, you sense danger, and it’s a tangible danger; you know he’ll kill you, you can even guess which spell he’ll use. But now… you feel danger, but you can’t pinpoint where it comes from or when it will appear. What unsettles you might not be the danger itself, but the ‘unknown.’”

Shen Hou shrugged: "That seems to be true. Facing Voldemort, I knew what I had to do; there were only a few methods, and if they worked, they worked, and if they didn't, I just closed my eyes and waited to die. Now, I don't know what I'll encounter, so I don't know what to do, and I don't know if I'll be able to cope when the 'unknown' suddenly becomes the 'known'."

"You guys are overthinking it." Sirius Black walked over at some point, jumped up, and wrapped his arms around their necks at the same time. "You're already thinking about all sorts of things before anything even happens, scaring yourselves silly."

"Damn it, let go of me!" Shen Hou stumbled forward, startled. "You idiot, you almost pushed us into the water!"

"Then I think you can cast an 'Iron Wall Charm' in advance to block everyone." Sirius grinned, but there was a hint of unnaturalness in his laughter.

This guy wasn't as relaxed as he seemed at all; this deliberate joke was more like a way for him to release his negative emotions—James and Shen Hou both noticed this.

Amidst the laughter and chatter, a ship suddenly appeared before them, piercing through the mist. On board was Dumbledore's familiar figure. Everyone immediately breathed a sigh of relief; the pressure that had been building up in their hearts vanished in an instant.

But when the ship reached the shore, everyone immediately noticed something was wrong. Unlike when he left standing in the middle of the ship, Dumbledore was now crouching inside, one elbow propped against the side of the ship, his face pale and seemingly very weak.

"Professor?" The crowd was surprised and uncertain, and stepped forward, but were stopped by the old wizard's stern voice.

"Stop, don't get wet! I'm fine." Dumbledore stood up, his face still pale and his voice less energetic than usual, but his steps were steady as he safely disembarked from the ship and stepped onto solid ground.

"What happened? What's in the middle of the pool?" Fabian asked anxiously.

"I'm not sure." Dumbledore's voice was slightly hoarse, with a hint of frustration. "Tom's methods are very clever; although his ideas are still superficial, his magical skills are indeed superb. I was unable to break the traps he left behind, and therefore I was unable to uncover his secrets."

"What happened to you?" The group helped Dumbledore to a rock wall away from the water's edge and found him a rock to sit on.

"An ingenious magical trap, still based on the old idea of ​​causing harm and making someone pay a price, but the trap is cleverly set; I must drink all the poison he left behind in order to find the secret he hid beneath it. It cannot be poured out, cannot be transferred with a spell, it must be drunk by someone with magical powers for the poison to be truly consumed."

"You drank poison?" Everyone's voices changed in fright.

"Not fatal—if that's what you're worried about." Dumbledore smiled and waved to the crowd, indicating it was alright. "But I must admit, that potion was truly terrible. I felt immense pain after drinking less than a third of it; this pain not only affected my body but also quickly shattered my will, making it impossible for me to muster the courage to continue. So, I failed."