Everyone's attention was directed toward the Forbidden Forest, and naturally, no one noticed Aurora and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; the little wizards were still chattering away in eager discussion.
One group belonged to a House that harbored a long-standing prejudice against the headmaster, while the other consisted of Gryffindors whose thinking had grown increasingly skewed due to distorted ideas.
Putting them together was undoubtedly a scheduling mishap of the highest order.
"If Hogwarts changes its name, will we need new uniforms? Does that mean we'll have to pay again? I could ask my family for a few more Galleons!"
"Oh! Who's going to tell Dumbledore? I want to see his reaction!"
"Dumbledore wasn't at breakfast this morning. I bet he went into hiding the moment he heard the news. Even the strongest Veela heritage fades with age, you know!"
"How dare you insult Professor Dumbledore like that! He's the pride of Gryffindor! His Veela bloodline won't weaken just because he's older!"
...
This group of students had clearly been led astray by the morning's Daily Prophet. Some of the little wizards even attempted to prove Dumbledore's enduring charm by citing the over seven hundred Dumbledore figurines sold by their grandmothers.
Apparently, one student's family had been in the magical figurine business in Knockturn Alley for generations.
What constitutes authority?
According to this little wizard, their family's statistics were indisputable evidence!
"Does your family sell Gellert Grindelwald figurines too?" Someone asked curiously, sparking interest among the onlookers.
"No, our family only does business within Britain."
The well-informed young wizard seemed unaware of the slightly dubious reputation of their family's trade, responding with a certain air of pride.
"Not just Dumbledore. We sell Miranda Goshawk figurines, too! They're our best-sellers, fetching the price of three Dumbledore figurines."
To be fair, the fact that this student still attended Hogwarts might be the most astonishing act of magic yet.
Since all the present students were young, they clearly didn't grasp how remarkable such a feat was.
"My mum bought a Dumbledore figurine from you once. It looked just like him and even moved around! I'm not sure why she hid it in our barn, though."
"Can you make custom orders? I want a figurine of my Crup!"
"That's a brilliant idea! I want one of my sister's! Whenever she bosses me around, I'll give her figurine a good hexing!"
...
At their age, little wizards were naturally innocent. They genuinely believed a magical supplies shop was merely a place for crafting and displaying toys.
Some Slytherins, eager to curry favor with Aurora, voiced their dissatisfaction. They declared that even within Britain, the shop ought to sell Grindelwald figurines, given his historical significance. Their sentiment garnered enthusiastic support from many others.
"..."
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's jaw visibly clenched, and his temple veins began to throb as he heard this.
It was painfully clear.
Among the new students from Slytherin and Gryffindor, not one displayed any true talent for Divination; the current situation had already been confirmed by the Divination professor in advance.
After all, if anyone possessed even the faintest trace of prophetic ability, they wouldn't be entirely clueless in the face of the growing danger.
The Fiendfyre, conjured through twisted Transfiguration, may have been raging in the Forbidden Forest for now, but the students within the castle, watching the commotion like spectators, could very well invite a real demonstration of Fiendfyre closer to home with their reckless chatter.
And when it did, it would burn with terrifying thoroughness, leaving not a trace behind.
"Calm down! Professor... you must stay calm!" Aurora was nearly hanging from Gilderoy Grindelwald's arm, desperately attempting to restrain the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
"They're just children, only spouting childish nonsense." Aurora pleaded in a hushed tone, her eyes filled with anxiety. Fortunately, Gilderoy Grindelwald seemed to regain some composure.
He shook off Aurora, though without drawing his wand. "Of course, I know that. However, I do believe it would be wise to carefully consider what sort of exercises would benefit the fine students of Gryffindor and Slytherin in the upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons."
"Such spirited wizards should fare well against Dementors. First years are just the right age to learn how to adapt to the conditions of Azkaban."
"I shall set up a simulated environment in the dungeons. Quite the learning opportunity, don't you think?" Grindelwald's expression showed no sign of jest as he spoke of this.
He swept his robes dramatically and strode out of the Transfiguration classroom, leaving it uncertain whether he truly intended to capture some Dementors for his so-called simulation training.
The other students, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, continued their chatter.
Voices buzzed excitedly.
Only Aurora's face paled. If Grindelwald did come up with Dementors, it would be a catastrophe; she knew all too well how abysmal her Patronus Charm attempts had been.
"The Patronus Charm..."
Aurora's fear of Dementors stemmed from this precise shortcoming. She'd attempted the spell countless times in recent days, yet never managed to summon even a wisp of silver mist.
The sting of her failure weighed heavily on her confidence.
"If I burn all these classmates for my grandfather, will that change his mind?" Aurora's concern for her peers' safety did exist, but it hardly reached any profound depths.
"Miss Grindelwald, are you worried Dumbledore will clash with your Grandfather again?" A first-year wizard, oblivious to the tension, decided this was an excellent time to voice their curiosity.
Aurora chose not to respond.
"Can you all just be quiet?"
With an exasperated sigh, Aurora rubbed her temples, her patience wearing thin. She tucked her wand back into her robes, clearly deciding that engaging further was futile.
After a moment of deliberation, the German girl concluded it would be best to remove herself from the impending chaos. She cast a fleeting glance at the professors hurriedly advancing towards the Forbidden Forest, her thoughts drifting toward safer places to hide from the looming Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
The Forbidden Forest, while hazardous, seemed a viable option.
But then there was the small chamber Ian frequently used for brewing potions. Hidden away on the Seventh floor, it was a considerably more appealing refuge. At the very least, it would keep her far from any Dementors.
...
More than a dozen Fiendfyre dragons twisted and coiled through the forest like Ian's monstrous minions, ferociously scouring for Voldemort. He had no intention of letting the Dark Lord escape.
It wasn't merely for the sake of fueling his so-called "Soul Furnace" with Voldemort's magic; Ian knew all too well how deeply Voldemort clung to vengeance. Allowing him to escape now would almost certainly ensure the Dark Lord plotted retribution in the future.
The hidden dangers were not insignificant.
Ian would not overestimate himself.
He knew he could overpower Voldemort in a weakened state, but in terms of sheer magical strength, a fully restored Voldemort was comparable to Dumbledore.
Never underestimate the dangerous magical rituals and dark transformations Voldemort had undergone. While they had certainly affected his mind and judgment, they had also granted him a significant boost in power, accelerating the magical growth that would have otherwise taken him decades.
"It's like mortgaging his future strength for immediate power, reckless, but undeniably effective in the short term."
"Even Grindelwald couldn't confidently claim a guaranteed victory against such a foe."
Ian recalled the knowledge he had gleaned from accounts of legendary wizards: magical strength did have an upper limit, and for those who reached it, progress slowed drastically.
Perhaps Voldemort in his prime was still slightly inferior to Dumbledore, but the gap wasn't wide enough to dismiss him. They were both considered formidable figures at the pinnacle of wizarding power.
They stood at the top level of wizardkind.
"My magical power barely reaches the level of a Hogwarts Head of House," Ian thought, "But in terms of magical theory, experience, and combat expertise, I still lag far behind."
Power alone wasn't enough; Ian lacked the vast reserves of knowledge and practical experience that defined true masters of magic.
For this reason.
(To Be Continued…)
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