Wandering and Certain Thoughts

Almost no one noticed him.

He Shenyan only wanted to wander around by himself, so he used a little special trick to make his presence feel extremely faint—I know some people would want to learn this little trick and use it in inappropriate places.

Back to the point.

If he had to rate this ancient castle, he would give it an 85. It was excellent. Setting aside its grand yet elegant architectural style, the exquisite but understated interior decorations were also very much to his liking.

Of course, he had also noticed the ghosts wandering freely through the castle, the self-aware portraits, and the living statues.

To be honest, such things were not rare.

He himself knew quite a few methods of putting living souls into portraits and statues for the convenience of torturing them, as well as spells that could turn souls into ghosts. But the creations within this castle were not like that. They had not been made through malicious means.

That was very interesting.

Ghosts not created from negative energy and portraits without the souls of living people inside them were, in his eyes, as precious and interesting as cats that ate with their asses.

If you were a biologist, you would probably immediately want to study cats that were naturally born eating with their asses.

The Mage could not help sighing that his decision to embark on the road home had indeed been the right one. Not only could he slowly find his way home, but he could also encounter new magic and see new sights along the way. What could be better than that?

Ancient One had once jokingly called him someone afflicted with a thirst for magical knowledge. He agreed.

He paused for a while before a tapestry called Barnabas the Barmy Battered by Trolls, then turned to look at the wall opposite it. Out of a certain sense of courtesy, he did not investigate the magic that resembled folded space without permission and simply continued onward.

Over the next half hour, aside from the students' towers and some professors' offices, he essentially toured the entire ancient castle.

In the end, he stopped before an open window and looked down at the lawn, the forest, and the vast lake. An inexplicable joy filled his heart. Good. This is where it begins.

--

By then, Dumbledore had already Apparated to the Ministry of Magic with Tom Riddle in hand.

Leaving aside the ordinary employees who nearly fainted at the sight of the piece of skin in his hand, even Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, was not much better off. He pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped the sweat covering his face as he looked at the tall old man and smiled weakly.

"My respected Dumbledore, may I ask what this is?"

Dumbledore did not show any scornful expression. He merely made a simple gesture for Fudge to calm down, then placed Tom Riddle on the desk. The Dark Lord, existing as a piece of skin, seemed to make Fudge extremely nervous as well. He was nearly sliding out of his chair.

Seeing more and more sweat pouring from him, Dumbledore had no choice but to explain. "My dear Fudge, can't you tell? This is the Voldemort we have been searching for all these years."

He deliberately spoke that name aloud, and Voldemort's skin immediately began silently cursing again. In truth, he had never stopped, but no one could hear him. They could only guess from the shape of his lips.

Fudge immediately sat upright—not out of excitement, but fear. He instantly drew his wand and pointed it at Voldemort, forcing himself to put on a brave appearance while loudly calling for Aurors.

Political achievements!

While waiting for the Aurors to arrive, he also asked whether Dumbledore could summon reporters. After receiving an ambiguous permission, Fudge's delight was obvious—this would be an exceptionally brilliant accomplishment on his record.

Yet Dumbledore surprisingly showed little emotional reaction.

He felt more relaxed than ever.

Looking back over his life, he had spent its first half entangled with one Dark Lord, then its latter half entangled with another. Now, the old one had been locked in prison for decades, while the younger one had somehow been found at Hogwarts after ten years on the run.

Feeling as though a great burden had been lifted, he had nothing else on his mind now. He only wanted to finish the work quickly.

After dealing with Fudge and the reporters at remarkable speed and with a distracted attitude, he pulled Fudge aside. His expression hardened, turning serious.

"My dear Fudge, I know you intend to make some achievements out of him, but he has not been completely dealt with. Do you understand? You may publicize the news of his capture and see whether any Death Eaters who still refuse to give up come to rescue him, but I need him alive—for now."

After saying this, Dumbledore stopped looking at Fudge. He did not explain anything further. He walked to Fudge's fireplace and vanished amid a burst of flames.

As for the Minister for Magic, after staring blankly for quite some time, he finally came back to himself. Smiling broadly, he returned behind his desk, intending to open a bottle of wine to celebrate.

--

At six that evening, Professor McGonagall saw Dumbledore push open the meeting room door.

Behind him followed the young man she had met that afternoon. Professor Trelawney, seated opposite her, immediately let out a brief cry of alarm, then collapsed onto the table, her complexion so poor that she looked ready to faint.

Professor Flitwick beside her helped her up, preventing her from embarrassing herself before the guest.

As for the famous ghost professor, Mr. Binns, he simply had not come.

Even though Professor McGonagall had spent a long time that afternoon finding him in some corner of the castle and notifying him, it made no difference.

Madam Hooch and Professor Sinistra were quite interested in this handsome man. Only Snape still wore that half-dead expression, looking as though he cared about nothing.

Dumbledore and He Shenyan entered the meeting room. Rather than introducing He Shenyan first, he said, "Please allow me to announce two matters to you all first."

"The disgrace of our school, the notorious Voldemort, Tom Riddle, was discovered at four this afternoon by Mr. He. He had attached himself to Professor Quirinus Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, by some means."

"Forgive this slow old man for failing to notice him, but fortunately, this good gentleman discovered him, ensuring that we did not allow Voldemort to teach our students. He has currently been taken to the Ministry of Magic. By tomorrow at the latest, everyone will be able to see reports of this matter in the newspapers."

Professor McGonagall felt a wave of dizziness, containing both the joy of Voldemort's capture and fear at Dumbledore's words. The other professors began discussing it quietly.

Only Snape's waxy yellow complexion had turned pale, flushed with an unnatural redness. Beneath the table, his hand clenched tightly.

"As for the second matter, our school will undergo reforms and adopt an entirely new method of teaching."

After saying this, he gave a playful wink and turned to He Shenyan beside him. "Your turn."

He Shenyan smiled. He was ready to speak.

--

Late at night, Professor McGonagall sat absentmindedly in her office. At this hour, she would normally have been diligently marking assignments. But now, she had no mind for that at all. Her thoughts were entirely occupied by the miracle that man had displayed during the meeting.

A miracle.

There was no other way to describe it.

Compared to the spells wizards used, the magic he had casually performed—magic he called simple fundamentals—was simply worlds apart.

Snape had initially been extremely skeptical of the claim about another world. He thought Dumbledore had gone senile and believed some wandering con artist. But after they had all been illuminated by that white star, he could not say another word and remained distracted throughout the entire meeting.

Only then did Professor McGonagall notice something—she had been staring at the desktop for over half an hour. Helplessly, she set down her quill and planned to change, bathe, and sleep. But she would probably find it difficult to fall asleep. It was already like that at her age, let alone after receiving such a shock.

At this moment, she actually found herself looking forward to tomorrow. She did not know whether her other colleagues felt the same, but she knew this meant a tremendous transformation for the entire world.

That method of casting spells, that control over Magic Power, utterly fascinated her.

Meanwhile, Snape stood outside the headmaster's office. He looked somewhat uneasy, a rare sight for him. Dumbledore came out, nodded to him, and greeted him. "Severus."

Snape had not even noticed him coming out at first. Only after hearing his voice did he look up. He grabbed Dumbledore's sleeve and could not speak at first. "...You... are you telling the truth? He was captured?"

Dumbledore looked at him and nodded slowly, firmly.

Snape staggered back several steps. Only then did he notice the phoenix standing on Dumbledore's shoulder and the black suitcase in his hand.

Snape asked, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, this? I don't plan on being headmaster anymore."

"What?!"

Dumbledore was very satisfied to see Snape reveal a shocked expression. Wearing that classic smile of a successful prankster, he said, "Just kidding. I'm only moving elsewhere. This office of mine will be used as the place where the teachers hold classes for the next month.

"Once the term officially begins, I'll move back. After all, the students need to attend classes too. At least until the end of this semester, they still have to take those exams."

Snape nodded. He licked his dry lips and asked hesitantly, "He... uh, I mean, Mr. He. Is he inside?"

Dumbledore knew what he wanted to ask, so he nodded decisively. "Of course. He should be preparing lessons inside."

After saying that, Dumbledore knocked on the griffin-shaped brass doorknob, putting it to sleep, then left, leaving Snape standing there alone.

In the dim corridor, the candlelight before the headmaster's office illuminated half his face. That normally expressionless, cold face was now unexpectedly filled with hope.

He slowly pushed open the door, which anyone could enter now that the doorknob was asleep. His heart was filled with complicated emotions he could neither explain nor understand.