get-shopping Chapter 287, Section 286: The World Never Needs Anyone
Chapter 287, Section 286: The World Never Needs Anyone
Chapter 287, Section 286: The World Never Needs Anyone
perhaps.
It was already close to dawn.
Mornings in the Forbidden Forest always come later than elsewhere. The dense canopy blocks out all moonlight, leaving only a bottomless darkness.
This place was once the remnant of a battle; the aftershocks of magic scorched the earth, leaving it barren. But now, those traces of destruction are quietly being covered by new vines and tender greenery.
Yes, the plants destroyed in the previous battle have regrown under the influence of the strange field, with tender green vines twining around the ancient tree's newly grown trunk as if they were fresh.
It just still looks so distorted and unreal.
A lingering, acrid smell hung in the air, a reminder that something unusual had happened here. Hermione seemed cold, and Dumbledore conjured a campfire. It was perhaps the most authentic thing about this place—Albus Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard of the century, always possessed some magical powers.
far away.
The wind rustled the leaves.
As if whispering a secret about to be revealed, the bronze door stood in the center of the halo, its mottled runes flickering in the twilight like the scales of a sleeping beast.
"That's really a bit strange."
Albus Dumbledore's long, silvery hair and beard gleamed faintly in the darkness. The tip of his wand rested on a complex rune on the door, as if confirming something.
The rune flickered with his touch, like a struggling star refusing to go out. This scene left both Hermione and Snape bewildered, as if they had stumbled upon a blind spot in their knowledge. Of course, compared to Hermione, Snape was slightly more knowledgeable; he could roughly guess what kind of problem Dumbledore might be facing.
that's the truth.
All I saw was...
Dumbledore frowned.
He was using magic to try to discover the correct operating sequence of this bronze gate.
only.
Immediately afterwards, the tip of the old man's wand hovered above the runes on the bronze door, and silvery-white magical threads spread out like a spider web, only to suddenly dissipate when they touched a certain symbol.
obviously.
This was a failure.
The complexity that can be pieced together into hundreds of millions or even billions of possibilities is not something that can be determined by elimination. Not to mention that the magic runes on this door can actually be pieced together to create many different effects.
In Dumbledore's view
This design may be a means of preventing reverse engineering.
Therefore.
A slight mishap.
The unpredictable effects could lead to unforeseen disasters. This situation even made Dumbledore somewhat wary, forcing him to proceed cautiously with his probes. He hadn't been completely unsuccessful; his understanding was at least somewhat clearer than before, though still not entirely accurate.
"Not yet," Dumbledore's sigh startled the owls in the treetops. He pushed up his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes behind the lenses reflecting the faint glow of the runes that were gradually fading.
"The arrangement of these alchemical arrays is more ancient than I imagined. And this door is more peculiar and dangerous than we thought."
He had indeed figured something out, but confusion still lingered around him. There was nothing he could do; the text was a hodgepodge of magical runes, and his collection of books only contained scattered bits of information.
"Forehead……"
Hermione Granger stood quietly to one side. Ever since Snape's stern warning, she hadn't gone near the pile of ancient books, but her gaze still occasionally swept over Dumbledore's hunched back.
Her fingers nervously twisted the corner of her robe. She couldn't help it; although she forced herself to stop being curious about forbidden knowledge, worry gripped her heart like an invisible hand.
Ian seemed to have truly entered the room, without any news or indication. How could the little witch not worry about her classmate's life?
"You are unsettlingly quiet, Miss Granger," Severus Snape said abruptly, his voice less harsh and more thoughtful than usual.
"You usually ask so many questions that it gives the trolls a headache."
of course.
He still couldn't resist making a few sarcastic remarks about the students in the college he disliked.
"I……"
Hermione looked up and met Snape's dark, inky eyes. To her surprise, there was no mockery in them, but rather a hint of emotion she couldn't decipher.
"I was just wondering if Ian might need help."
She answered softly, her voice exceptionally clear in the silent Forbidden Forest.
Snape's lips twisted into an almost smiling expression: "Is caring for a friend a Gryffindor virtue, or foolishness? I can't tell the difference between the two in you."
Although the words were harsh, the tone of voice unconsciously softened.
And at this moment
Dumbledore suddenly sighed, the weariness in his voice causing both of them to turn to look at him. The old wizard slowly stood up, his robes stained with dirt and withered leaves, but he seemed completely unconcerned.
"This alchemical artifact was created far too long ago... It doesn't belong to any of the magic systems we're familiar with. Even with the knowledge I've accumulated over the years, I can hardly glimpse its true nature."
Dumbledore slowly raised his head, a hint of helplessness flashing in his eyes. Indeed, extensive knowledge does not equate to omniscience, and a vast collection of books does not encompass all knowledge from ancient times to the present.
Even with Albus Dumbledore's understanding, it was inconceivable to be a creation constructed from multiple systems jumbled together like a hodgepodge, yet strangely not collapsing as a result.
"How is this possible!" Snape frowned, like a bat that had smelled danger. "If even you can't figure it out, who can? Nick Flamel?"
His eyes held a hint of worry and uncertainty. To be honest, Dumbledore's apparent helplessness from the very beginning had already struck this Hogwarts Potions professor as unbelievable.
It was thought that Albus Dumbledore would be able to solve the puzzle after some effort, but unexpectedly, even after waiting for so long, Albus Dumbledore was still unable to solve the problem.
The greatest white wizard of the century seemed to be truly stumped—Snape had never imagined that he would one day encounter something that even Dumbledore couldn't handle.
It felt like a dream.
But it is indeed real.
After all, Snape had already pinched himself to verify this—of course, it's not impossible that there are real dreams in this world, since the magical world is full of wonders, and Snape could also concoct potions that allow people to experience real dreams. However, it is precisely because of this that he knows that the current situation is by no means like that.
There are indeed some difficult problems.
Even Dumbledore felt powerless.
"I doubt he can either."
Dumbledore shook his head, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles flashing with helplessness: "Nick's alchemy skills are indeed unparalleled in the world, but..." He paused, his fingers tracing a dent in the door, "even my old friend probably wouldn't know those missing pieces of knowledge."
"Some magic has vanished into the annals of time along with its creators." Clearly, the vanished magic Dumbledore spoke of was the magic on the bronze gate.
"this……"
Snape's changing expression.
A gust of wind blew through the Forbidden Forest, rustling the leaves as if in response to the old wizard's words.
"So what should we do?"
Hermione suddenly felt a chill creep up her spine—if even Dumbledore and Nick Flamel couldn't understand this door, was Ian really doomed?
"It's not that I didn't make any discoveries."
Dumbledore seemed to sense the little witch's emotions and spoke to comfort her.
"What do you mean? What did the principal discover?"
"This door is not a simple spatial passage, Hermione. It has a selection mechanism; only those who are truly qualified can make it function properly."
The old headmaster sighed softly and patiently answered Hermione's question.
"What are you screening?" Hermione pressed.
"The soul." Dumbledore frowned, a fleeting, enigmatic emotion flashing in his eyes as he uttered the word. "Only a specific soul can make it truly effective."
"And those souls who are not qualified are very likely to get caught up in it and become part of the possible group that will be abandoned." The old headmaster had indeed gleaned quite a bit from the scattered pieces of knowledge. Just as he had said before, this door possessed multiple ability triggering mechanisms, one of which was the ability he was now referring to.
"Like that evil Dumbledore we encountered before?"
Snape couldn't help but ask.
"No, those are the ones who are abandoned by fate, while those who try to enter into it are different; those who try to enter into it are actively moving from right to wrong."
Dumbledore shook his head in response.
He didn't mind Snape referring to himself as evil.
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"Like Ian?" Hermione felt a wave of helplessness wash over her. She looked at the bronze door again, recalling the moment when it was still in operation.
as if.
The distorted faces seemed to be screaming at her, but she couldn't hear anything. A terrifying image formed in her mind—Ian was trapped in some dark space.
Her soul was being torn apart by an invisible force... How pitiful, how terrifying. It must be said, the little witch has quite the imagination; no wonder she will become a truly excellent witch in the future.
For wizards.
Imagination is indeed very important.
At least that's the case according to the theory Ian summarized.
The air was somewhat silent.
Dumbledore did not respond.
After a moment of shifting expression, Snape's voice broke the silence, "That's all up to Ian's fate now, isn't it? I knew that brat would get himself into trouble sooner or later."
Despite his annoyed tone.
But what lies beneath is a hidden worry and sadness.
"Ian simply made his own choice, or rather, fate made him choose," Dumbledore sighed. "Just as each of us must be responsible for our own choices."
"Actually, we can't say for sure yet that Ian has also succumbed to some wrong fate." Dumbledore turned to the bronze door, his wrinkles appearing deeper in the dim light of his wand. "While I don't fully understand its function, I'm not entirely without a clue."
He raised the Elder Wand, tracing a complex arc in the air. "I know how to activate it. Perhaps... I can try to go in and find Ian."
"If we're lucky enough, we can both come back." Clearly, Dumbledore still wanted to try to save Ian, after all, Ian's importance to him was self-evident.
In this regard.
Snape was somewhat suspicious.
He had truly never seen the old principal value someone so much.
Even Harry Potter.
Snape knew that Dumbledore would abandon the child if necessary—but to Ian, it seemed that Dumbledore was often different from the old headmaster he knew.
Snape's dark eyes scanned back and forth between Dumbledore and the Bronze Gate.
His brows were furrowed.
He genuinely couldn't recognize her, wondering if the rumors circulating in the academy were true. In contrast to the Potions Professor, who overthought things, Hermione's heart simply skipped a beat.
"But what if you're not so lucky?"
She really couldn't control herself from overthinking.
"Just bad luck?"
Dumbledore looked at her, his blue eyes gleaming mysteriously behind his glasses: "Ian will return. I believe in him; he has the ability and courage to face anything."
Hermione was stunned by this irrelevant answer.
Hermione couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind Dumbledore's words. She frowned, wanting to ask something more, but swallowed the words back.
In the end, she only opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. There was something in the old headmaster's tone that she couldn't understand—not hope, not prophecy, but an almost certain promise?
In this regard.
Snape grew increasingly suspicious.
However, even with these thoughts in mind, Snape still felt that Dumbledore should consider the bigger picture. The world still needed Dumbledore; he was like a lighthouse guiding everyone forward.
Voldemort's threat still looms over the wizarding world like a dark cloud.
Ok.
At least that's still the case for most wizards, since only a small number of people in the world know what Voldemort has become.
"You know, Albus, you need to live, you need to live in this world, you know..." Snape began in a deep voice, but because of the young wizard beside him, he couldn't finish his sentence.
For this,
Dumbledore simply smiled and did not answer the question. He straightened his robes, his movements as composed as if he were preparing for an afternoon tea party.
"This world has never needed anyone. Everyone has their own mission and value, and I will not blindly take risks. Of course, I am not a suicidal person. I have a certain degree of confidence, so... wish me luck." Dumbledore interrupted him gently, but his eyes gleamed with an undeniable light.
The old principal's authority still exists.
and so.
Despite still harboring resentment and wanting to refute Dumbledore's actions, Snape ultimately chose to remain silent after a change in expression.
After a period of internal struggle.
"Good luck."
Snape sighed and spoke.
Both logically and emotionally.
Actually, he also had his own selfish motives.
After all, Ian is his nephew.
He was certainly happy to see Ian rescued.
I just hope so.
Everything will turn out for the better.
(End of this chapter)