Chapter 590: Potions

Dumbledore had left early, just as abruptly as he had appeared, before the students on the scene can focus their attention on him.

Felix knew that the school is riddled with counterspells that prevented ordinary people from performing Apparition in the castle, but there was no doubt – the Headmaster is privileged. Felix could see, though, that Dumbledore had borrowed the power of the Phoenix this time out of his haste to ascertain the sudden burst of magic in the castle.

There are at least two ways for Felix to do the same thing.

The first would undoubtedly be using the innate talent of the magical creature; there’s no need for him to even perform magical creature shapeshifting, as all he needed to do would be converting a talent similar to Apparition into ancient magic, which would help him bypass the prohibitions placed in the castle.

The second is somewhat more tricky and requires the help of a part of the castle’s magic system, the Room of Requirement, to achieve it. This magical room is ingrained with the castle’s magic by Lady Ravenclaw. When Felix had cracked part of the secret, he was able to gain access implicitly. Theoretically, he could use that room as a transit to jump around the castle as long as the Room of Requirement responded to him.

The students in the office seemed hyper and mentally active. Felix brought out an assortment of desserts and biscuits to reward them.

“There aren’t any canary biscuits in this, right?” Fred asked, somewhat sheepishly.

“You just reminded me of that.” Felix said, waving his hand as nothing happened, but Fred was visibly stunned, staring at the snacks on the small square desk, not daring to reach out for them.

Luna picked up a ginger salamander biscuit, took a bite, and said, “I don’t think this one’s enchanted.” She seemed to be reassuring him, but everyone else – including Felix – thought the comment had backfired, and Fred was noticeably more warier.

“Did Headmaster Dumbledore just come by?” Harry asked uncertainly, “I seem to have seen him.”

“Came and went.” Felix said briefly.

“Professor,” Hermione couldn’t help but ask, “Is there some trick behind the reason why Harry’s Patronus has become … become completely different?” The others looked over, curious about the answer to the question. Harry wanted to know it too, and he looked at Professor Hap in the same way.

Felix thought for a moment and said, “Earlier I suggested a conjecture that the Patronus had another use. Some of you -” his eyes flicked between several of you, “may have equally strong ideals and a conviction that you will not give up in the face of difficulties, but the truth is that those difficulties have not really happened, and your ‘firmness’ is also only a figment of your imagination.”

“The difference between Potter and you is that his conviction did not come out of thin air, he has experienced those cruel dangers and blows – and when he remains indomitable, that courage speaks volumes.”

The crowd savoured the words in silence. Harry blushed a little as he listened, and he could only pretend that he was also thinking, when in reality his mind was blank.

Cedric asked, “Professor, can I understand it this way? ‘Thinking you can beat the odds’ can only bring you false courage and conviction; this courage and conviction are only real if you have ‘proved yourself’. The former may also be worth encouraging, but … it is like a castle made of sand.”

Felix smiled and nodded at him.

“Think of how many vows we’ve made in our lives, and how many of them have yet to be fulfilled.” He said with emotion.

“Few of the men who have achieved great things in history have had smooth sailing, they have had to eat the same bitter medicine of failure as everyone, but the choice they made after their failure is what separates them from the common man. Gosh, if all those people were wizards too, the Patronus probably wouldn’t be that rare.”

In the evening, Felix put his pen on paper to write to his ill-informed pen pal.

He started with ‘I have a student’, and described his newfound discovery of the Patronus Charm in a broad manner; then he turned the script and introduced the concept of the Deathly Hallows with ‘I have another student’.

‘ … I am certainly not mocking you for stealing someone else’s coat of arms, it is just simple curiosity, has no one among your followers raised an objection? As a scholar, I must point out the risks involved: although the Peverells were among some of the oldest families that disappeared, it was only the disappearance of the paternal line, and the descendants of the three brothers are probably spread out somewhere. What emotions will they have in their hearts when they see that the coat of arms of their ancestors has become the symbol of some organization with an infamous reputation …’

…..

Nurmengard Castle

“Nasty little brat!”

Half a month had passed when Grindelwald read the letter, right now it is at the end of April and the beginning of May. Grindelwald’s wrinkled face stared at the letterhead as he flashed an odd smile: “Faith? It’s far from enough, you have to burn yourself.”

He inclined his head to look at the house-elf.

“Bondi?” Grindelwald called out softly.

“Gr… Lord Grindelwald.” Bondi, the house-elf, stood away from the hard bed and bowed his head humbly.

“Why do you fear me? Were you warned by one of those ‘Lords’ about how cruel I am?

Little thing, you have a right to know better.

Half a century ago, a man named Dumbledore took his legion of children and dismembered my vast following – back then, I was at the peak of my ambition and ready to fight. A battle had to be fought. I lost. Forbidden to cast magic, to lose my birthright to cast spells, unable to use even one single decent spell. Imprisoned for half a century.”

The house elf’s head dropped even lower, his nose almost close to the floor. Bondi couldn’t remember how many times Bondi had been warned by the ‘Lord Wizard’ from the International Confederation of Wizards, and thus Bondi made up his mind that if the gentleman in front of him tried to get Bondi’s help to break out of prison, Bondi would turn and apparate without waiting for the wizard to finish his sentence.

In a trembling voice he said, “Lord Wizard, if you don’t want to write back, Bondi will-”

“No, no, no, Bondi.” Grindelwald murmured softly, stopping him.

“Your master was once very faithful to me. Remained faithful even when I made it into this place. Wouldn’t you like to know why you were sent here? And why those ‘Lords’ of the Confederation acquiesced to your existence? When they wanted me to starve to death.”

“Your master and I were brought together by a common philosophy, and I was simply … standing at the front of the line.”

Grindelwald held out his hand and Bondi hesitated, indecisive, but he was convinced enough to move slowly closer. Finally, the two hands clasped together.

Grindelwald smiled, and it was impossible to distinguish his once youthful appearance from him anymore; his cheeks were thin, his eye sockets were sunken deep, his teeth had nearly fallen out, and he looked like a skeleton. He said to the trembling house-elf, ” Look, isn’t it easy?”

“Even though I am not your master, I suppose you have been asked to make me as comfortable as possible? I promise you, I will never demand more from you than the occasional observation of the outside world with the help of your eyes …”

“I need you, but I won’t force you to do anything… as I appreciate the care you have given me for so long.”

“Now, I want you to show me some of your magic abilities, which I used to do better, but for now I can only take comfort from your spell-casting.”

Relieved, Bondi complied with the request. The house-elf did his best to conjure up all sorts of dazzling tricks he knew. Then he stopped with a gasp and Grindelwald thanked him, “I would be very grateful if I had the chance to see it again in the future.”

The house-elf bowed and left.

Only a single person was left in the small cell-like room.

Grindelwald raised his head and stared at the window – a window of sorts, or just a narrow gap between blocks of black stone? The mountain wind whistled at night, and the moon lit up a part of the room and cast an eerie shadow behind.

He knew everything about this place and even remembered the words ‘for the greater good’ carved at the entrance, which he had personally inscribed. The word ‘Nurmengard’ was also the name he had given to the prison he had built for his opponents.

But the irony is that instead of being executed after his defeat, he was imprisoned here.

Now he is the only human alive in this place.

His cell is at the top of this dark, gloomy fortress, in the tower. The landscape outside remained the same.

To be honest, he had gotten a little tired of it.

Especially since there is a little bastard outside, constantly ticking him off with all sorts of information.

After an unknown amount of time, Grindelwald snapped back to his senses, spreading his palm out and gazing at the dozen or so thin strands of magic that swam around his palm like swimming fish.

Well, It wasn’t his own magic, but the magic of house-elf that he had just collected.

…

The graveyard in Little Hangleton village is deserted, with traces of the battle that once took place still visible. The Ministry of Magic had sent someone to repair it afterward, but it could not be fully restored to its original state. The whole thing has become another strange legend among the inhabitants of the village.

“It could be a wild beast-”

“Nonsense! I’m betting it has something to do with the death of the Riddle family, who after spending over a decade transformed into ghosts and managed to get back at their enemies.” Dott said inside the Hanged Man Pub, with one leg crossed and his head cocked to the side – as he did whenever he was drunk, spewing foul alcoholic odour out of his mouth.

“You mean the dead gardener, Frank Bryce?” Someone asked in a low voice.

“If not him who else? Thanks to those drunken bums at the police station, he was released without a charge and lived so many more years. Think about it, three members of the Riddle family died in such a strange way back then? If you ask me, it was retribution.”

“Where are the ghosts? Do you have any proof?” The barman looked at him with displeasure and retorted, “Pay for your drink!”

Dott made a couple of grunts as he said, “Don’t interrupt!” He tilted his head the other way and said in a cryptic manner, “I do have proof, I’ve been to the graveyard at the back of the church and little Riddle’s grave – it was broken open!”

“Really?”

Someone coaxed, “You’re not making it up, are you? Why don’t you go and see it now?”

“You won’t be able to see it,” Dott said regretfully, “it’s been repaired.”

As they spoke, someone had already taken advantage of the night to go to the graveyard at the back of the church.

A fanatic expression showed on Bellatrix Lestrange’s face as she drank the potion in her hand in one go.

“Lord-”

“Sleep, my dear Bella.” Voldemort said, “I will wake you before the duel.”

Bellatrix fell into a deep sleep, the frenzy on her face becoming calm as she lay quietly in the coffin, her hands clasped together on her belly, with a golden cup clutched in her death grip. Voldemort waved his wand and the lid of the coffin closed, and dense alchemical symbols were lit up one by one.

With another wave, Voldemort buried the coffin in the pit, and a thick layer of earth covered it.

He would remain here until the day of the duel. He would wait, and if no one disturbed him in the meantime, then he could take a chance and temporarily separate himself from his Horcrux and fight Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had grown weak, he could tell.

The good news completely overwhelmed the shame that Malfoy, the traitor, had brought him.

He knew how powerful his curse is, “In the name of getting rid of the lingering effects of the curse, he was weakened even more” Voldemort sneered twice, very pleased with the results of Severus’ work.

He had deliberately picked the period of the O.W.Ls exams as the date for the duel when all the professors would be staying at the school, not to mention the existence of Severus, who would instantly inform him if Hap had disappeared.

But is it safe to rely on Severus alone …

Voldemort’s mind whirled with various thoughts. By all accounts, he is a loyal Death Eater, carrying out his orders perfectly. But Voldemort never put his trust in anyone, just as he had never told the secret of the Horcrux to any of the Death Eaters who had remained faithful to him.

Maybe he should have done more preparation … How about using those examiners from the Wizarding Examinations Authority as eyes and ears? Using Imperius? No, there’s Thief’s Downfall to guard against that, he had to find a more subtle way. He didn’t need any assistance, as long as they could make sure Felix Hap remained at the school.

There is also the Ministry of Magic Aurors …

Voldemort began to work out all sorts of evil trickery.

…

Once school started, especially after the first week of career advice, there was only one thing left for the fifth year to do.

That is to prepare for exams.

Felix noticed, almost visibly, that the students had become more conscious and harder working. The reasoning is not difficult to understand; after the career advice, each student had a goal or two in mind, as advised by their respective heads.

What’s more, almost every professor in every subject had continued to explicitly and implicitly state how important his or her subject is.

At some point, simplified procedures for brewing potions began to circulate in the school. At first, the young wizards didn’t believe it; according to the usual practice of previous years, what was popular at this time of year would have been amulets, Baruffio’s Brain Elixir, dragon claw powder, and other such stuff.

But the facts speak for themselves and a series of amazing coincidences emerged.

Neville Longbottom, who had been hovering in the lower middle of the Potions class, had risen to the top, and even Harry and Ron, who had below-average grades, had excelled. Naturally, this unusual behaviour had caught the attention of the students and a certain professor, who had been staring behind the few like a ghost in the Potions class during one class.

Harry’s head was sweating; he hadn’t performed any procedure for a full ten minutes and the daisy roots were on the verge of being chopped up.

When Snape disappeared, he immediately flipped open the Potions textbook, which held a parchment with the heading ‘Vitality Potion’. The handwriting on it was dense, but Harry knew that the potion could actually be broken down into seven major steps and three distinct stages.

He quickly read what was on the fifth step, which had something like an outline: ‘Enhances the effects of fire salamander blood.’ He read on, the original textbook contained a cumbersome five steps, whereas the new and improved method is brief: ‘Strain the residue, stir twice counter-clockwise, then twice clockwise, and slowly inject the magic.’

Harry grinned, it was almost equivalent to a combination of Professor Hap and the ‘Half-Blood Prince’.

He recited a soft incantation and a piece of parchment on the table quickly morphed into a filter, he raked it twice and then stirred it counter-clockwise and clockwise and infused it with magic, the potion had turned a light blue colour.

Harry looked around, not many people had made as much progress as he had.

He lowered his head in excitement and continued to read the following content, when-

“Potter.” Snape’s cold voice was heard and Harry nearly jumped out of his seat in fright.

————-

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