Orochimaru travels to Hogwarts

Chapter 18 Dumbledore's Closed-Door Meeting

Orochimaru followed the bar owner, Tom, up the beautiful wooden staircase to a room with a brass door knocker.

"This is a double room," Tom said, tapping on the door with his wand to open it, turning around to ask, "You don't have a wand, do you?"

Orochimaru nodded calmly.

"Then when you open the door, you should do it like I do."

Tom closed the door again, then stretched out his index finger and gently scratched the lower right side of the brass door knocker, as if scratching an itch.

Under Orochimaru's watchful gaze, the door knocker twisted, and like a screaming girl, she instantly darted to the side.

The door opened silently at that moment.

"Dumbledore has rented your room until August 31st, so you don't need to worry about the rent," said the owner, Tom. Then, as if remembering something, he added, "The bar provides three meals a day, but the standard meal cost is no more than three silver sieves. You can choose the specific dishes yourself, and hot water is no longer available after 8 PM..."

He went on and on about many other things, such as how to wash clothes, how to call room service, and how to use the mailing service offered by Leaky Cauldron.

Orochimaru listened patiently to everything, and after confirming with the bald boss Tom, he went into the room alone.

Bang.

Orochimaru first habitually closed the door and drew the curtains before beginning to examine the furnishings in the room.

First was the fireplace, made of cut bricks and stones. Firewood burned constantly inside, crackling and popping incessantly.

In front of the fireplace, there is a thick blanket, and on the blanket sits a sofa with its fur worn smooth.

Orochimaru looked around and finally fixed his gaze on the two single beds.

The bed wasn't large, but the bedding was thick enough, and the ever-burning fireplace confirmed to Orochimaru that his new base was warm enough.

Snakes actually love warm environments, but people don't quite understand this.

Orochimaru thought for a moment, then casually set up several warning barriers before relaxing his body and curling up on the sofa, falling into a deep sleep.

For Orochimaru, a day spent dealing with Dumbledore was more exhausting than ten S-class missions.

He couldn't wait to get some rest.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore, who had just returned from Gringotts vault, was sitting in his office at the highest point of Hogwarts.

Past principals peered into the portrait of the great white wizard, wondering about the weariness he displayed today.

"Something's wrong with you, Dumbledore! Weariness is your soul crying out for help," said Dalys de Winter, the headmistress from Ravenclaw, kindly advising Dumbledore. "Perhaps you need a journey."

"Thank you." Dumbledore opened his eyes, but did not acknowledge the reply.

He simply reopened the teacup on the table, added an uncountable amount of white sugar, and then stirred it again and again.

"Is something troubling you? Perhaps we can help you come up with some ideas?" another principal asked, squeezing into the portrait of Delis.

"no thanks."

Dumbledore murmured to himself, picked up the cup that was no longer clear whether it contained black tea or brown sugar water, and quickly sipped it.

It has to be admitted that sweets can always quickly restore one's energy.

Just as the weariness was gradually fading from Dumbledore's face, a malicious suggestion rang out at that moment.

"For a great wizard, the advice of another great wizard is always invaluable, even if you accuse him of being a dark wizard," advised a headmaster in a green fitted suit with a brown goatee. "Sending him a letter would certainly be a good idea!"

Who is that?

The headmasters all fell silent. They knew that person's name, because it was one of the few things that this easy-going White Demon Headmaster couldn't budge.

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore put down his teacup and looked seriously and attentively at the portrait that had just made the suggestion.

"I will not send a letter to Grindelwald...never. Right now, I want a moment of peace, Mr. Phineas Nigellus Black."

"Dumbledore said in a deep voice, while waving his wand," he said.

Heavy curtains descended from nowhere, obscuring every portrait of a former headmaster of Hogwarts.

No one could see Dumbledore at this moment anymore.

He wearily rose from behind the table, strolled to the Pensieve, and, while gently pressing his wand against his temple, fell into deep thought.

Should he keep this memory of today, just like he did to Voldemort?

Should he repeatedly watch and study the young wizard Slack Anguius?

Should he heed his own anxieties and arrogance?

If, after my death, another dark wizard comparable to Voldemort and Grindelwald appears in the wizarding world, who can stop him?

The silver threads woven from memories were pulled slightly from Dumbledore's temple, but then remained suspended in the air for quite a while.

Finally, Dumbledore admitted that he had been persuaded by his own arrogance.

If anyone in this world could stop dark wizards like Voldemort and Grindelwald, it would only be themselves.

With that thought in mind, Dumbledore extracted all of today's memories and placed them into the Pensieve.

After doing all this, he turned and instructed the phoenix Fawkes to invite Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall to come over.

A short while later, a dark cloud appeared in Dumbledore's office, accompanied by a cat.

The two professors looked at Dumbledore in surprise, awaiting his orders.

"Take a look; the Pensieve contains my memories of today," Dumbledore said calmly, regaining his composure.

Snape drew his wand, and Professor McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore curiously before also inserting her wand into the Pensieve.

A moment later...

Snape put away his wand, staring at the Pensieve in shock, remaining silent for a long time.

Professor McGonagall couldn't help but compare what she had seen and heard that day with another memory.

That was Dumbledore's memory of accepting Mystic into the academy.

Compared to that child, the mysterious man seemed like a pure, unambitious lamb.

"Dumbledore, what should we do?" Professor McGonagall asked in a deep voice, her expression growing increasingly serious.

Dumbledore didn't answer directly, but instead looked at Snape, as if waiting for the professor who knew Voldemort well to give his answer.

Snape remained stubbornly silent.

So Dumbledore had to sigh deeply, and then asked in a consultative tone:

"I'd like to hear your opinions, Severus and Minerva."

"We must keep a close watch on him, and if we notice anything amiss..." Professor McGonagall said, but then stopped instinctively.

Despite her deep-seated prejudice against Slytherin, she, as a professor, went to monitor a young wizard who had not yet enrolled.

This is absolutely outrageous!

She shouldn't have done that!

"We can't do that, Albus." Snape's voice held a hint of glee. "We can't send every aspiring Slytherin to Azkaban, can we?"

But he was practically a born evil little wizard...

Professor McGonagall silently protested in her heart, but didn't dare say it aloud. She couldn't do it.

Dumbledore thought the same thing, but he couldn't do it either.

And so, an unspoken silence began to brew in the principal's office once again.

"How about we send him to Durmstrang?" McGonagall suggested, but then shook her head.

Since its founding, Hogwarts has never had a precedent of handing over students to others.

Snape didn't even bother to refute Professor McGonagall's ramblings.

"Severus, Minerva," Dumbledore said resolutely, "while at Hogwarts, I will guide and educate him as much as possible. I will keep a close eye on him."

"And then what? If things go wrong, send him to Azkaban?" Snape asked impatiently.

Professor McGonagall looked at Dumbledore with curiosity upon hearing this.

She knew Snape was just mocking Dumbledore, albeit very mildly.

"With me here, nothing will go wrong," Dumbledore said in a deep voice. "I assure you."

As for the situation where he's not present...

Dumbledore was certain that he would find a solution before he died, one that would cause as little harm as possible.

Just as Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall were about to leave, Snape suddenly turned around and asked a question, as if playing a prank.

"Mr. Anguis and Mr. Potter get along very well. Should we stop their friendship?"

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore simply shook his head slightly.

"The real Gryffindors will make the right choice," Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced through his small round glasses, settling quietly on Snape's face, which concealed a hint of smugness. "I believe in Harry, just as I believe in..."

"I know your answer."

Snape didn't give Dumbledore a chance to continue the conversation and turned to leave the headmaster's office.

Now, only two true Gryffindors remain here.

Professor McGonagall glanced down at the Pensieve, as if she had made up her mind, and then spoke to Dumbledore again:

"May I see your memory again, Albus? That memory about Mr. Anguis?"

"Of course," Dumbledore replied softly.

After reading it again, Professor McGonagall sighed with genuine emotion.

"If only all of this were real..."

She was expressing these sentiments, unaware that thousands of miles away, Harry Potter, whom they called the real Gryffindor, was also making similar remarks.

"If all of this is fake, then I really am living in hell."

Harry said softly, and when he looked up, he saw an owl perched on his bedroom windowsill, pecking at his windowpane intermittently.

"Shh!"

Harry gestured, quickly stepped forward, opened the window, and welcomed the owl into the room.

On the owl's ankle hung a small bamboo tube containing a piece of parchment that smelled faintly of tobacco.

Harry pulled out the parchment and began reading by the moonlight, without even turning on the lamp.

"To my partner Jiraiya, I have successfully infiltrated the magical world."

Harry's mood improved immediately upon seeing those first lines. He was absolutely certain that he was not far from escaping hell.