Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, I need you to return to the office now. Pomona will bring some people to see you. They are enforcers from the International Confederation of Wizards, tasked with—"
"Bagshot?" McGonagall asked, surprised.
"Keep it confidential," he said.
"Let Felix explain it to you later," Dumbledore interrupted, "My brother is here, and if I don't let him in soon, I fear he might resort to violence. He's been quite upset with me lately... And have Harry come as well; he's been waiting for quite some time."
The voices outside grew louder, making his words more convincing. McGonagall looked at him deeply. "It has been an honor working with you, Albus."
"The feeling is mutual, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled back at her. Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novel※fire.net
McGonagall hurried away, seeming to stumble at the doorway. As the door closed again, there was a clear intake of breath from outside.
Dumbledore slowly moved to the edge of the sofa, where Grindelwald had just been lying, and sat down.
"Put away those letters, Felix. I've never been able to predict Aberforth's mood. It would be troublesome if he insisted on seeing them," Dumbledore said.
"Even him?" Felix asked quietly.
"Perhaps. In his mind, I've always been an irresponsible brother. It's best to maintain that impression. But I can't control everything. If you plan to tell him, it's best to wait some time," Dumbledore replied.
Felix gathered up the two boxes of letters.
"I thought you would survive, because—"
"Because of Ariana?" Dumbledore gently asked, and Felix nodded. The old man smiled. "You forget, Felix, there's another me in Classroom Seven."
"Thirteen-year-old Ariana should be accompanied by seventeen-year-old Aberforth Dumbledore, not wake up to find two old men as her brothers. I took the liberty of not letting her retain memories of her last year; it would have been too cruel for her. But she possesses soul magic, which sets her apart from ordinary memories and ghosts, making her more real... If one day she tires of it, she also has the right to decide her own fate."
The door suddenly burst open from the outside.
"Aberforth! And that bastard!" Aberforth's burly figure barged in, followed by Harry, Snape, and Flitwick. "I don't know what sweet talk you used this time—"
When he realized there were only two people in the room, he froze.
"He's gone," Dumbledore said, closing his eyes. Aberforth made a strange expression, and for a moment, Harry even thought he might yell, but Aberforth just scowled and stared at Dumbledore.
"Fine..." he grumbled, after a moment. "Where's the key?"
Dumbledore opened his eyes and looked at Felix. Felix, expressionless, reached out his hand, and ancient runes gathered between his fingers, eventually forming a solid key. He tossed the key to Aberforth.
"Filius, please run another errand and take Aberforth to Classroom Seven," Dumbledore said.
"Oh, uh, alright, Headmaster Dumbledore," Flitwick obediently replied. "Dumbledore—um, please follow me."
Aberforth stared at the key in his hand, then at Dumbledore sitting on the sofa. "Thanks," he muttered vaguely, and followed the short Flitwick out of the room.
In the office now, there remained Dumbledore, Felix, Harry, and Snape.
Snape's eyes swept around the office, finally settling on Dumbledore. "Do you still need me to guard the door? There are quite a few professors gathering downstairs, eager to know more about the situation. I don't know if you heard Hagrid's booming voice... Professor McGonagall left in a hurry, without saying anything."
"Is Pomona back?" Dumbledore asked.
"As far as I know, not yet," Snape replied in a low voice.
"Thank you, Severus."
Snape gazed at Dumbledore for a moment, his expression growing cold. He rolled up his sleeves, then left the office without another word. Dumbledore, seemingly unperturbed, motioned for Harry to sit opposite him.
"Harry, Harry," Dumbledore almost whispered, "I've been thinking for a long time, hesitating whether to tell you directly, or perhaps by passively accepting your fate, you might unleash a powerful force..."
"Am I going to die?" Harry asked, his voice trembling slightly, though his gaze was remarkably calm.
Dumbledore looked at him lovingly, paused for a moment, then began again.
"You will live, Harry, I assure you of that. But—yes, you do need to die once," Dumbledore said, somewhat laboriously retrieving the Resurrection Stone ring from his pocket and slipping it on his finger. Harry and Felix stared at his hand, which, though slender and long, emitted a faint glow.
Dumbledore shook the ring a bit. "You see, I will protect you."
Harry pursed his lips. "What do I have to do?"
"You must be killed by Voldemort once, it has to be him, you can guess the reason. Voldemort is now transferred to the Slytherin Chamber. Felix and I have made some modifications there, which will allow you some freedom. Of course, you can't just appear in front of Voldemort, he knows you're a Horcrux, he won't kill you."
"But there happens to be someone in the school right now who can appear openly in front of Voldemort without arousing any suspicion—I'm not saying Voldemort trusts him, quite the opposite, he might—"
"Snape!" Harry suddenly exclaimed.
"Professor Snape, indeed," Dumbledore interrupted, smiling. "It seems you understand."
"I need a weapon, my own wand is unusable."
"Severus is just outside," Dumbledore nodded. "Oh, and perhaps you might need it—Voldemort's wand is in the drawer to the left of my desk, you've seen it, the handle resembles a beast's claw."
Harry fell silent for a moment, then stood up, walked around the sofa, and pulled open the drawer of the long-legged table to retrieve a wand.
After a moment's thought, Harry placed his own wand on the table.
"Will you accompany me?" he asked, approaching the door and looking at Dumbledore.
"Yes, I will," Dumbledore replied with a smile and a nod.
The door closed behind him, and Harry heard a clear phoenix song. He stood still for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and began descending the spiral staircase. Finally, the wall in front of him split open, and light flooded into the corridor.
Six or seven professors had gathered in the corridor, whispering to each other and glancing towards the stone creature.
"Harry!" Hagrid called out, waving his arms to signal him over.
But Harry walked straight up to Snape, and the two stared at each other.
"I need your wand," Harry said coldly.
Snape looked at him indifferently.
"I need your wand—for her vengeance," Harry finished his sentence.
Snape slowly withdrew his wand from his robe, his eyes hollow as he looked at Harry, his voice hoarse.
"Ash, thirteen and a half inches, dragon heartstring core."
"Thank you," Harry said, flicking the wand twice as if trying to get a feel for it in his hand, then he pointed the wand tip at himself. Hagrid gasped loudly.
Harry's face began to distort, his figure elongating, becoming more slender, his skin color dull and lifeless, the scar on his forehead slowly disappearing...
He turned into Snape.
Then Harry pointed the wand at himself again, and his clothes turned into a large black robe.
Hagrid looked shocked, rubbing his eyes vigorously, unable to speak. The other professors were equally startled. Someone whispered quietly, "Metamorphmagi greatly enhance the level of transfiguration."
"But hasn't Potter only mastered it for less than two months?"
Harry was quickly adapting to the changes in his body, recalling Snape's walking posture in his mind, finding it surprisingly familiar. He took a few steps back and forth, quickly getting the hang of it—he strode purposefully, his black robes billowing like two deadly serpents. As he passed Hagrid, he stopped and grinned.
Hagrid looked as if he had seen a ghost.
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