Performing a Voldemort Resolution Within One Chapter

Dumbledore basked in the sun; the afternoon rays were not as fierce as those at high noon.

Yet, for an old man of his age, this was exceptionally comfortable, even inducing a touch of drowsiness. It had been a long time since he had simply studied or rested like this, as he was usually occupied with various affairs. Wait, had he forgotten something?

Dumbledore, who had been lying on the lounge chair with his eyes closed, snapped them open. He suddenly remembered that today was already the third day; he should have replied to Hogwarts after clarifying the situation.

But then he recalled that there was no fireplace in this villa, and sending a message via Patronus from France to Hogwarts in England was somewhat overly difficult. Thinking of this, he simply stood up and returned to the basement.

In front of his teacher—though he had never addressed him as such, the two seemed to have tacitly accepted this fact—He Shenyan, a tome was floating.

Seeing him arrive, He Shenyan put the book away. He asked, "Is something the matter?"

Dumbledore explained the situation, and the mage nodded. "That's simple. Let's return to your school together. As it happens, it's time for me to take up my post, isn't it?"

The old man laughed.

They walked out the front door of the villa. Dumbledore stood empty-handed on the open ground in front of the villa, watching as He Shenyan clapped his hands. The country villa that had stood there for two days vanished, and the spot where it had been turned into a small grove.

Noticing Dumbledore's gaze, He Shenyan explained, "This is a simple spell under the 'Travel' category. Once I finish compiling my book, you will be able to understand it."

"A book?"

"Yes, one must always have textbooks for class, right?"

"I am quite looking forward to it, then." Dumbledore took out his wand and said, "Shall we return via Apparition?"

"Apparition? Oh! You mean that somewhat dangerous teleportation spell. Let me show you something more interesting, shall we?"

He Shenyan deliberately slowed his pace. With his right hand, he drew a circle in the air, even taking care to let Dumbledore feel the flow of magic.

Following his movements, an arc gradually appeared in the air, resembling a mirror shimmering with black magical radiance. He placed a hand on Dumbledore and said, "Now, think of your school. What was it called again?"

Dumbledore said, "Hogwarts."

And so, the black center of the arc slowly changed color and expanded, the scene within shifting to the place where the old man had spent most of his life: his school, the main teaching building of Hogwarts.

"Now, go in. When passing through the Space Gate, be careful not to have any conflicting thoughts, or you might end up leaving something behind," He Shenyan said tactfully, stepping through with Dumbledore.

Passing through the portal, they returned to Hogwarts in the blink of an eye. Before them stood the great gate of Hogwarts. On the lawn and by the lake, many students were walking in twos and threes or sitting together chatting. None of them noticed a tall stranger and their familiar headmaster standing before the open gate.

Dumbledore was particularly astonished—and even a little envious.

He had not felt that uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a rubber pipe, as one does with Apparition. Nor was there that jarring pop sound. In fact, it felt just like walking out the door on a leisurely afternoon for a stroll.

It was far too effortless.

Back at school, a certain air of distinction returned to Dumbledore. His back straightened, and without needing He Shenyan to say anything, Dumbledore led him forward.

They passed through the heavy, exquisite oak doors, directly facing a grand marble staircase. To the right was a set of double doors, which Dumbledore explained was the Great Hall. It was where students and professors dined, and where the Sorting Ceremony for new students was held each year.

"Sorting Ceremony?" He Shenyan's eyes lit up.

He was always insatiably curious about all forms of magical knowledge.

"Ah, yes. We have a little trinket called the Sorting Hat. You put it on, and it calls out the traits in each person's character, which helps us place them among students with similar temperaments—there are four houses in total."

"These four houses are named after their founders: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

He explained as he and He Shenyan stepped onto the stairs. The mage nodded. Students passing by, seeing the headmaster touring the campus with a handsome stranger and personally introducing him to the history of Hogwarts, all ran off in excitement.

Only the older ones speculated, guessing he might be an adult wizard visiting from abroad, someone of high status, and thus they greeted him respectfully. He Shenyan accepted them all—he would be their teacher soon enough, so why not?

As for Dumbledore, he didn't even need to think about it; this news would likely spread among the students at an explosive speed by dinner tonight, causing quite a stir for a long time.

He smiled helplessly and continued his tour guide duties, which he actually enjoyed very much—he truly loved this ancient castle, which had witnessed his entire life.

They reached the second floor. The moving portraits hanging along the way and the strange, floating staircases made He Shenyan laugh. He remarked, "It seems that whether they are wizards or the mages of my world, they all have strange tastes in these matters."

Dumbledore laughed as well, saying, "This castle is far too ancient. Even as headmaster, I cannot control every aspect of it. In these small details, I simply let it be."

After walking down a corridor, Dumbledore led him to knock on a door. A lady's voice sounded from within: "Come in."

Dumbledore pushed the door open and introduced him to He Shenyan: "Minerva McGonagall. Head of Gryffindor House. A good friend, a colleague, and a reliable person."

The lady, who had been sitting behind her desk writing something, stood up in surprise, looking at the headmaster and this handsome stranger. A warm fire burned in the fireplace behind her.

The room was small but filled with warmth.

"Hello, Ms. McGonagall. My name is He Shenyan, you can just call me He. We will be colleagues for some time in the future." He Shenyan smiled politely at her and extended his right hand.

From her appearance, he could tell that this lady was certainly a serious, earnest, and highly reliable person. Her attire, her posture, and even the neat handwriting on the parchment on her desk were proof of this.

This couldn't help but stir some favor in him—mages had always liked such people.

Professor McGonagall stepped out from behind her desk. She glanced at Dumbledore and shook hands with He Shenyan with a polite smile: "Hello, Mr. He. I don't know what this is...?"

Dumbledore smiled somewhat mischievously; he usually acted quite playful when facing old friends: "This is my teacher."

He watched with satisfaction as the expression on McGonagall's face rapidly shifted to shock and a look that said, You are absolutely joking with me.

Dumbledore did not stop while he was ahead; he doubled down, nodding with a straight face: "You heard me correctly, Minerva. This is indeed my teacher. Please go and notify the other teachers; we will have a short meeting in the conference room at six o'clock this evening. I will explain everything then."

Leaving Professor McGonagall, who was nodding in a daze, Dumbledore continued to lead He Shenyan on a tour of Hogwarts. He pointed to the lawn outside the floor-to-ceiling window: "The view from here is quite nice, isn't it?"

He Shenyan stroked his chin and said, "Hmm, personally, I think it might be better with some other embellishments."

"Such as?"

"Well, you wouldn't like it, believe me, Dumbledore." He Shenyan smiled and brushed the topic aside. His magical plants were each more terrifying-looking than the last.

It is only natural for potion ingredients to look hideous.

The two walked up to the third floor, but as they passed the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, He Shenyan stopped in his tracks.

He frowned and asked, "Forgive me if this sounds rude, but Dumbledore, what are the hiring standards here at Hogwarts?"

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, looking puzzled.

He Shenyan shook his head. Out of courtesy, he hadn't scanned the entire school with his mental energy upon arrival, which was why he only noticed the foul, rotting scent of magic coming from the person inside once he reached this spot.

With that thought in mind, he stopped restraining himself and began to exert full pressure on the individual inside. Instantly, a muffled groan came from behind the door, followed by the sound of something collapsing to the floor.

Dumbledore pushed the door open. When he saw the back of the man's head as he lay sprawled on the ground, his expression froze. For a moment, he was unable to speak.

He Shenyan stood beside him and asked, "Forgive me for acting without asking you first. But the stench of evil on this fellow makes me quite certain he is not one of your kind."

"Ye-yes."

Dumbledore's trembling right hand rose and fell. A moment later, he finally remembered where his glasses were.

He took them off, rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed, and said, "This was a student of mine, Tom Riddle. I am referring to the one on the back of his head. He was exceptionally brilliant during his time at school, but unfortunately, he chose a twisted path."

"He launched large-scale terrorist attacks across Britain, attempting to rule the entire world. We paid a heavy price, and after defeating him, he vanished. I never expected he would be able to infiltrate the school."

As Dumbledore recounted this history, he seemed to age significantly, yet he also appeared lighter, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

He Shenyan listened to the end without offering his usual commentary. However, his gaze, fixed upon that inhuman face, held a hint of disdain.

Then, he snapped his fingers lightly.

The man on the floor immediately woke up. He scrambled to his feet, staring at Dumbledore in terror, and began frantically touching the back of his own bald head. A voice cursed, "Fool! What are you touching?"

"Ma-master, Master, Dumbledore is-is-is here!"

He looked as if he were about to faint. Dumbledore sighed again and said, "Please turn around, Quirrell."

Quirrell was not deterred by the voice's insults and curses, nor did he heed its obstruction or its command to draw his wand.

He chose to obey Dumbledore's gentle command.

Quirrell turned around, trembling.

A hideous face writhed on the back of his head. It had long, narrow, scarlet eyes burning with the flames of resentment, and a flat nose that was nothing more than two slits. It spoke with a cold, serpentine hiss: "Dumbledore. What are you waiting for? Do it!"

All the emotions Dumbledore had previously displayed were now reined in.

He stood straight, unafraid of the terrifying face. He drew his wand but did not cast a spell. He simply said, his tone carrying a hint of pity, "Tom, there was really no need for you to go this far."

The one he called Tom—or rather, the face—roared, "Enough! You hypocritical old fool! Do it! Why are you still standing there spouting such sanctimonious nonsense?!"

"I think it would be better if you didn't do anything just yet."

He Shenyan spoke up suddenly. He squinted at the ugly, dehumanized creature and dropped a bombshell.

"Your courage is truly commendable, Mr. Tom Riddle. To think you would rashly split your own soul while possessing only a superficial understanding of it, dividing it into several entities that each retain consciousness—it is commendable, but truly, it is incredibly stupid."

Tom widened his scarlet, narrow eyes. He was so furious he could only spit out a few garbled words: "How dare you. How dare you...?!"

His focus was, inexplicably, on the insult regarding his intelligence.

"Of course I dare, Mr. Tom Riddle. Look at yourself now; do you dare say you aren't? You aren't just stupid—how is your current form of existence any different from a parasite?"

He Shenyan gave a mocking laugh, but he quickly lost interest.

He raised his hand, snapped his fingers, and used his magic to seal Tom's mouth. Then, with a casual flick of his finger, a beam of black light struck the face. Tom Riddle's mouth stretched wide in a silent scream.

A few seconds later, he peeled off the back of Quirrell's head like a piece of paper. Quirrell fainted on the spot, collapsing to the floor again with a broken nose, blood pooling beneath him. He Shenyan glanced at him and cast a hemostatic spell on the poor man.

A coerced accomplice, an unlucky assistant—he might be guilty, but not to the point of death. Besides, there was no need to demand that everyone choose righteousness over survival in the face of death.

Yes, in that short span of time, he had already sifted through Quirrell's memories and learned how Tom Riddle had coerced and tempted him.

Dumbledore stepped forward, picked up the silent, cursing Tom Riddle—who now looked like a piece of skin—and looked at the mage for guidance.

The latter merely sighed.

"Leave it at that, Dumbledore. I trust you have other uses for him? After the meeting tonight, we can discuss the matter of learning. For now, go about your business; don't mind me. I'll wander around on my own."

Dumbledore nodded and left. He did indeed have things to do—such as informing the Ministry of Magic that the long-fugitive Voldemort had been captured, locking Quirrell in Azkaban, interrogating Voldemort, or using magic to locate his Horcruxes.

Even if He Shenyan hadn't spoken, he would have mentioned he needed to leave for a while, and since He Shenyan was so reasonable, he was happy to let him be.

The mage turned and walked away decisively. To be honest, he quite liked this castle. The magic within it was ancient; while it was primitive in some respects, the underlying logic was quite intriguing. In his aimless wandering, he eventually found himself on the eighth floor.