Ancient Wizards Return to Hogwarts...

Chapter 517 Rice: If there must be a Dark Lord, then let me bear this curse.

Just five seconds later, Sirius realized he had misunderstood Rice; Rice really did have good news for him!

"Sirius, look who this is!"

Following Rice's directions, Sirius finally discovered Peter the dwarf lying in the shadows and dust.

It's not Sirius's fault for being careless; he was knocked to the ground by Rice as soon as he got to the second floor. Besides, in his human form, his sense of smell wasn't as sharp.

Sirius was utterly shocked when he recognized Peter. He truly never imagined that he would see Peter again one day!

Considering that Peter was also caught by him and Lupin in the Shrieking Shack last time, Sirius couldn't help but consider the possibility that the Shrieking Shack was his lucky hut.

"Take him away and hand him over to the Ministry of Magic, so you can accompany Harry to King's Cross Station in human form," Rice said calmly.

This is why he risked returning to Riddle's old house, which was about to be blown up by Voldemort's magic. He wanted Sirius Black, the true Slytherin, to live with dignity, as a human being, as an innocent and blameless person.

Sirius chuckled sheepishly: Was his impersonation of a wolfhound really that bad? He'd actually seen right through him.

I really need to be more careful in the future—no, I don't need to do that anymore!

Sirius got goosebumps all over his body. He couldn't contain his excitement at the thought of being able to openly act alongside Harry in the future.

"Why?" In his excitement, Sirius was also a little curious: he didn't seem to have any connection with this Les Lint, so why would he go out of his way to capture Peter for him?

As a very bold person, Sirius asked the question directly.

"Because you are a true Slytherin," Rice said with a proud tone.

Sirius: !

"Hey, wait a minute!" Sirius was getting impatient. He completely disregarded the fact that he was still a prisoner of Rice and retorted loudly.

"I am a pure Gryffindor, certified by the Sorting Hat."

"The Sorting Hat doesn't know anything about sorting. You're a Slytherin, and nobody knows Slytherin better than me." Rice waved his hand and directly bestowed upon Sirius the title of "Honorary Slytherin."

Sirius's expression twisted in pain.

He wanted to say something more, but considering his situation, he thought it best to say less.

If we anger this Rice in front of us, who knows what kind of trouble will ensue.

Rice knew what Sirius was thinking just by looking at his expression. He snorted and delivered a long speech.

The core message of the speech was that Slytherin's original intentions were good, but the Sorting Hat distorted them, and Voldemort ruined them. It was all the fault of the evil Gaunt family, and had nothing to do with Slytherin himself.

"The Slytherin House of today has strayed far from the spirit of Slytherin himself, but that doesn't stop some true Slytherins from being scattered in every corner of the world—Sirius Black, you are one of them."

Sirius had countless complaints he wanted to make, but he didn't know where to begin.

He always felt that Rice might have some misunderstanding about Slytherin, perhaps thinking too highly of him.

"You're not Slytherin himself, how do you know his true intentions?" Although he knew it was unwise for Sirius to say such a thing, he couldn't control his mouth.

What if I said I was?

Sirius was stunned.

He instinctively thought Rice was joking, but after thinking about it carefully, he was surprised to find that if he analyzed the statement as true, everything in front of him seemed to be explained.

After all, according to Harry, that Rice was not as decisive and ruthless as the one in front of him, nor was he as powerful.

If Salazar Slytherin's some kind of contingency plan was activated in Raith, resurrecting the ancient wizard from a thousand years ago and replacing Raith Lint, then things would make sense.

After a moment's thought, Sirius chose to believe.

Looking back at what he had said earlier, Sirius fell silent.

I was recognized as a Slytherin by Salazar himself... Oh no, now I really am a Slytherin.

Someone once said that everyone eventually becomes the kind of person they hate the most. Sirius Black never imagined that this statement would actually come true for him.

After chatting with Sirius for a few minutes, Rice handed Peter over to Sirius.

As Rice used magic to pull Peter out of the corner, Sirius, with his sharp eyes, noticed what appeared to be another person lying deep in the shadows.

"That is—"

"Voldemort."

Sirius: ?!

He initially thought he had misheard.

It wasn't until Rice brought out Voldemort's body that he was sure what Rice said was true.

Voldemort is dead!

Sirius felt that everything before him was so unreal: Peter had been captured, Voldemort was dead, and it seemed that all the troubles had been resolved in the blink of an eye.

Is this really reasonable?

Thinking about it carefully, it seems quite reasonable. Salazar Slytherin, after being resurrected, would definitely want to personally deal with the biggest scourge of Slytherin House.

Sirius felt a deep sense of joy.

However, he quickly lost his joy.

Rhys called Nagini to his side, then took Voldemort's corpse and made as if to leave.

"Where are you going?" Sirius called out to Rice.

"Let me think... I plan to conquer Azkaban and establish my own power there."

"Huh?" Sirius was completely bewildered.

"Aren't you going back to Hogwarts? You're the founder of that place, and the hero who killed Voldemort."

"But I'm also a criminal who killed Umbridge and Fudge, and stormed Gringotts, aren't I? And I just happen to not want to be imprisoned in Azkaban and suffer. Azkaban is a great place, I like it very much."

Sirius was speechless for a moment: Indeed, Salazar was right. Killing the Minister of Magic was not something that could be easily overlooked, especially since he had killed Fudge in public.

"And it seems this is my destiny..." Rice sighed, gazing at the dilapidated ceiling.

Rice only realized the reason why the four of them had not been able to return to the normal timeline when he was chatting with Sirius.

He disrupted many destinies, but by a twist of fate, he also "smoothed out" those destinies.

If we disregard Horcruxes, Voldemort, the Dark Lord, is indeed dead. But a new Dark Lord has already appeared, hasn't he?

If there must be a Dark Lord, then let me bear this curse and become the Dark Lord. That's what Rice thought.

Sirius Black watched silently as Rhys Lint carried Nagini, the python, in one hand and Voldemort's corpse in the other, before disappearing from the Shrieking Shack with a snap.

The Dark Lord Ras Lint is stronger and more cunning than Voldemort, and he also has brains, hair, and a high nose. He is the new Dark Lord who is superior to Voldemort in every way!

Sirius Black remembered a name that had been almost forgotten by the public: Gettler Grindelwald.

He knew that the magical world was about to change again.

……

The next morning, the young wizards of Hogwarts gathered in the Great Hall. The table in front of them was filled with delicious and tempting food, but no one had any appetite.

Because today's Daily Prophet has brought extremely exciting news.

Although they already knew that Umbridge had been beheaded in front of Rice during class, the news of Fudge's death and the fall of Gringotts was even more shocking.

They never imagined that the classmate who had been eating under the same roof as them just two days ago was now the most wanted criminal by the Ministry of Magic—Voldemort's level didn't need to be wanted; no one could take his bounty.

This can be considered a kind of success in itself, right?

Because the Daily Prophet's photographer was standing right behind Fudge when he was assassinated, he managed to capture a truly remarkable photograph: Rice appears calm and cold-eyed. He suddenly appears, raises his wand, and fires the fatal spell at the camera—that is, at Fudge.

In other words, the magical world will not participate in the Pulitzer Prize competition; otherwise, this photo would definitely have killed the race for this year's Pulitzer Prize.

This photo is from the front page of this week's Daily Prophet, with the headline in bold: "A Rising Dark Lord? Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge Assassinated in an Execution Style!"

The students were discussing Les Lint intensely, as were the professors on the faculty benches.

Today, Professor Dumbledore was absent from breakfast, and no one seemed to find it strange. Given the magnitude of the event, it was only natural that Dumbledore would go to the Ministry of Magic to reassure everyone and, incidentally, to find a successor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Just then, the entire Great Hall of Hogwarts fell silent, as a short, milky-white figure appeared in the hall.

Amidst the watchful eyes of the crowd, Umbridge's ghost entered the auditorium and went straight to his empty seat in the teachers' section.

A thought popped into the students' minds: perhaps Professor Dumbledore would no longer need to go to the trouble of finding a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for Hogwarts.

"Dolores, what brings you back?!" Professor McGonagall stared in surprise at Umbridge's ghost, voicing the question that had been nagging at her heart.

"Of course, I'll continue my teaching work, just like Professor Binns!" Umbridge turned to Professor McGonagall and replied in her signature sweet, coquettish voice.

Because of her large movements, her head actually fell off her neck and rolled a considerable distance across the auditorium floor. Umbridge quickly stood up and floated down to retrieve her head.

Nick, who was almost headless, looked at Umbridge's head rolling on the floor and made an envious sound.

"If only my executioner had been as skilled as Les Lint—Ms. Dolores's neck cut was the smoothest I've ever seen, bar none!"

Nick, who is "almost headless" rather than "completely headless," has never been able to join the Headless Horseman Club, and he has always been bothered by this.

Seeing Umbridge's head fall so cleanly, he even felt a pang of jealousy.

Professor McGonagall fell into deep thought as she watched Umbridge staggering on the ground searching for his head.

Defense Against the Dark Arts is indeed the origin of Hogwarts' course, and changing professors every year does have a significant impact on the quality of teaching...

But Umbridge's teaching quality was also questionable!

Considering her teaching style, which was not much different from Binns', Professor McGonagall felt it was best to let the deceased rest in peace.

"Actually, it's not entirely impossible..." Suddenly, Helga offered a suggestion.

"We can have Umbridge teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and then open a new course to teach the original Defense Against the Dark Arts content, but change the course name to something like Duel Studies, and then make Defense Against the Dark Arts an elective and Duel Studies a compulsory course."

Of course, you could also offer an elective course specifically for Umbridge, such as Defense Against the Dark Arts theory. How you arrange it is up to you.

To be fair, Professor McGonagall thought Helga's suggestion was quite good.

The only problem is that Hogwarts will have one more disliked course.

However, Professor McGonagall glanced discreetly at Snape, who was sitting on the other side of the long table, and thought that Hogwarts' unpopular classes didn't seem to need another one.

As the two were talking, Umbridge had already stumbled to the front of her head. She only needed to bend down to pick it up and put it back on her neck.

Just then, Peeves suddenly popped out of the floor, grabbed Umbridge's head, and flew into the air, laughing loudly as he went, shouting a rhyme in a rough tone—

"Umbridge's head, like a ball, was kicked into a department store! And the department store has a whole floor dedicated to selling your head!"

Umbridge's head emitted a sharp popping sound, and his body bounced around on the ground, reminiscent of those plump headless turkeys at a Christmas dinner.

Pee-Pee Ghost's eyes lit up as he looked at Umbridge's body, and he came up with another rhyme.

"Umbridge, like roast chicken. Eat the roast chicken, become a big shot, and kick her back to her hometown!"

Then Peeves tossed Umbridge's head high into the air and, like a Muggle soccer player, kicked it out of the auditorium.

The students burst into laughter, and Peeves swept away the heavy atmosphere that the Daily Prophet had just brought to Hogwarts.

"Peeves, that's enough!" Professor McGonagall shouted at Peeves in as serious a tone as possible, trying to suppress her smile.

Peeves, being such a clever ghost, could not possibly fail to see that Professor McGonagall was not truly angry, so it floated above the Great Hall, chuckling and laughing.

Generally, ghosts would stop Peeves from playing pranks, but Umbridge is not exactly popular among ghosts, so even Barrow the Blood Man just silently watched her entangle with Peeves.

Professor McGonagall and Helga exchanged a glance and suddenly thought that leaving Umbridge's ghost at Hogwarts might not be such a bad idea.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

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The next update will be at midnight tomorrow night.

(End of this chapter)