As he walked back, Sean pondered the meaning behind Dumbledore's final words.
Classes still had to be attended.
He waited for the staircase ahead to finish shifting back into place, resting his chin on his hand.
Did Dumbledore mean he should properly attend Voldemort's Defense Against the Dark Arts class?
No, it should be Magic Attack and Defense Class now.
He climbed the stairs as he thought, mulling over Dumbledore's words. Riddle did not dare make any reckless moves under Dumbledore's watch, so was Sean supposed to squeeze more knowledge out of him?
It seemed to make sense. After all, at Hogwarts, the man could not openly teach the Dark Arts.
His doubts dispelled, Sean returned to the Ravenclaw Common Room, only to suddenly discover that despite the late hour, quite a few people were still reading there, every one of them frowning deeply.
Sean took a look. Most of them were older students, and each held a copy of Libatius Borage's Advanced Potion-Making.
Potions... Sean froze, the corner of his eye twitching.
Right, there was still Snape...
In the Headmaster's Office, Dumbledore emerged from the flames looking exhausted, his lips even slightly chapped.
He glanced at the man in the center of the office who looked exactly like him and said, "Gellert, you kept a close eye on him, didn't you?"
The Dumbledore in the center of the room twisted and gradually transformed into Grindelwald. With his hands behind his back, he smiled. "Of course. But Albus, you're worrying too much. It's only a shell."
Dumbledore looked deeply at Grindelwald. "I've been wondering whether I made a mistake."
Grindelwald laughed happily. "My old friend, you are heading down the right path."
"I hope so..." Dumbledore walked to his desk, opened a drawer, took out a glass bottle, and