aircannonsinc Chapter 239 The fight will continue until the blood runs dry
Chapter 239 The fight will continue until the blood runs dry
Chapter 239 The fight will continue until the blood runs dry
Picking up where we left off, Harry was very curious after hearing Hermione's words.
He pondered for a long time, then said, "This is truly strange! If what you say is true, then could it be that Yama, the King of Hell, and the God of Death share the same body and the same heart?"
"If we think about it more broadly, we might find that the gods, Buddhas, immortals and saints of the East and West are actually from the same source."
Upon hearing this, Hermione immediately imagined a red-faced, long-bearded man in green robes and golden armor being nailed to a cross.
She shivered, quickly regained her composure, and shook her head. "Maybe I'm just overthinking it."
The two walked and talked, following Dumbledore to the headmaster's office.
Looking up, one could see that the two doors were blown to pieces, resembling the gate of a dilapidated temple. The interior was even worse, as if it had been ransacked by highway robbers.
Dumbledore stopped and remained silent, only glancing at Hermione's face with his deep blue eyes.
Although Hermione knew that the desolate scene was mostly the work of the Death Eaters, her heart was pounding and her face showed signs of fear.
She coughed lightly and said, "Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore, let me help you fix it up."
Having said that, he stretched out his arm, spread his five fingers, and suddenly a powerful magical force surged from his palm, sweeping across the room.
All that could be seen were broken bricks and stones, cracked wood and broken beams, which rustled and flew up on their own, like weary birds returning to their old haunts.
In just a few breaths, the entire office was restored to its original state. The beams and pillars were in perfect order, the objects were neatly arranged, and even the portraits of past principals on the wall were hung upright in their original places, without a trace of damage.
Dumbledore observed this for a while, then slowly walked back to his chair and sat down. He first took a bottle of potion from the cabinet and took a big gulp before looking up at Hermione.
"You took the Elder Wand?"
"Um.
""
"Was it Grindelwald who helped you?"
"Um."
"Has the Elder Wand merged into your Animagus form?"
"Um.
""
"When did you start eyeing the Elder Wand?"
"—Last summer vacation."
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes slightly, rubbed his brow, and sighed, "It seems I've been played for a fool by you and Grindelwald for a whole year."
Hermione felt increasingly uneasy as she heard this. Although she tried to remain calm on the surface, her ears were burning. She said, "In fact, Professor Dumbledore, I originally planned to discuss this with you after the final competition."
"It's just that Voldemort and the Death Eaters came too suddenly, and the Elder Wand is the only way I can think of to save my life."
Dumbledore's eyes snapped open. "You mean, Voldemort's target in attacking Hogwarts was you?"
"To be more precise," Hermione reached into her robes, took out the Death Journal, and placed it on the table, "it's another Horcrux of his."
He then recounted in detail Voldemort's plot and the Death Eaters' nighttime attack on the castle.
Harry, who had been listening nearby, spat on the ground and cursed, "I always thought this bald thief was a man of principle, and that he'd eventually come to settle things with me!"
"Who would have thought he was all show and no substance, only daring to gather a bunch of hooligans and bullies, targeting only the youngsters to wreak havoc!"
Dumbledore remained silent, stroking the cover of the demonic book thoughtfully, and said, "Is it simply because it's a Horcrux—?"
After a moment of silence, he suddenly pushed his death diary forward again.
"Please keep it safe, Miss Granger. I believe you are capable of doing so now."
Hermione was taken aback at first, but then she understood and put the death diary into her bosom.
After dealing with Hermione, Dumbledore turned to her and asked, "Harry, you fought Voldemort, didn't you? Has he changed at all?"
Upon hearing this question, Harry's expression hardened, and he exclaimed, "More than just changed, it's a complete upheaval!"
He then recounted in detail how he encountered the undead Andros and how he witnessed Voldemort resurrecting many of his former Death Eaters.
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore's face grew heavy with worry. After a long silence, he slowly said, "He probably needs the dead themselves as a medium to resurrect them. Voldemort may very well have stolen the remains left behind by Andros."
Having said that, he finished the half-bottle of magic potion in his hand.
"I think we should perhaps consider implementing cremation."
"Voldemort will very likely lead the Death Eaters to start tomb raiding, searching for those powerful wizards in life."
Upon hearing this, Harry thought to himself: If the professor is right, that guy is definitely going to do some tomb raiding.
Why don't I set up a trap, lure that thieving bird into the snare, and then finish it off when it comes to me?
Just as he was pondering this, Dumbledore suddenly said seriously, "Harry, I think you're ready to fight Voldemort, aren't you?"
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Harry crossed his arms and bowed to his chest. "I hadn't even enrolled in school yet, but when I heard that Voldemort was dead and nowhere to be found, I was already preparing."
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Upon hearing this, Dumbledore's expression softened. He stood up and walked straight to the door, saying, "If possible, Harry, I would like you to assist Minerva with the cleanup."
"Of course, don't forget to pick up Severus and the others. I used teleportation to get back ahead of them; they're still behind."
""
Harry asked in surprise, "What is the professor going to do?"
"Kill the Death Eaters."
Dumbledore strode to the door, gripped the brass handle, and creaked open a crack. Just as he was about to step out, he stopped abruptly, turned back, and said, "Miss Granger, could you erect a knight statue beside my desk?"
These words came out of the blue, and Hermione paused for a moment before nodding and replying, "Of course, Professor Dumbledore."
Immediately, with a gentle wave of her hand, countless fragments of bluestone outside the corridor seemed to receive a military order and gushed in through the crack in the door, just like hundreds of rivers flowing into the sea.
The stones piled up and interlocked in mid-air, gradually forming a human shape amidst the rustling sounds.
A moment later, a magnificent stone statue of a knight in full armor stood beside the table, the fine details of his armor plates clearly visible.
Dumbledore looked the statue up and down, nodded slightly, and then said, "It would be nice if it held a sword in its hand."
Upon hearing this, Hermione quickly channeled her magic and, in the blink of an eye, conjured another stone sword, which she then placed into the statue's palm.
Dumbledore, however, stroked his beard and pondered, "In fact, I prefer the style of ceremonial armor from the French style of the sixteenth century."
If you asked someone else this question, they would probably be completely bewildered.
Hermione, however, had chosen to take Muggle Studies and consistently topped the exams. She was also knowledgeable about the evolution of Muggle armor and knew exactly what Dumbledore desired.
The magic was then activated, and the stone statue rustled as it was reshaped inch by inch, from its helmet to its boots. In a short while, it transformed into a sixteenth-century French ceremonial armor.
Hermione turned her head again and asked, "Is this the style you want, Professor Dumbledore?"
"Ah, exactly what I was thinking. But let it hold the sword with both hands, there are already enough knight statues with swords in the castle."
Upon hearing this, Hermione's eyelids twitched incessantly, and she felt that this old man was holding a grudge against her for stealing the Elder Wand and had come to amuse her.
However, upon further reflection, realizing that he was in the wrong, he said no more and instead used his magic as instructed.
The stone statue loosened its grip, raised its arm, and adopted a respectful posture of holding a sword, resembling a loyal and brave family general guarding the gate.
Dumbledore had no further objections this time. He nodded slightly to the two men and strode away.
Once he was out of sight, Hermione let out a long sigh of relief, turned to Harry, and said, "Let's go, Harry, let's go help."
Harry raised his hand to stop her, "Wait a minute, sister, let me take a look at that Marauder's Map first."
Hermione took a piece of parchment from her bosom and handed it to Harry, who unfolded the picture and examined it closely.
Seeing that the names of the entire Weasley family were all on the map, except for Ron, they breathed a sigh of relief.
The two left the principal's office and went on a journey to repair the broken walls and corridors, comfort students from other schools, and then called on everyone to carry the corpses to the castle hall. They were on the move without stopping.
As the two men carried the seventh-year student from Badgerhouse to the front of the hall, they saw several dusty figures standing inside. These were the same group of people who had accompanied Dumbledore to kill Voldemort.
Snape's face was taut as iron, his dark eyes scanning the dilapidated hall with a bone-scraping gaze; Flitwick swayed a few times, staring blankly at the corpses scattered on the ground as if his soul had left his body; Lupin clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his whole body trembling uncontrollably, like autumn wind sweeping away withered leaves.
"Harry!"
Black suddenly shouted, and Firefly rushed forward, searching Harry's shoulders and arms from head to toe, urgently asking, "Professor McGonagall just told us that Voldemort attacked Hogwarts—are you alright?"
Harry cupped his hands in greeting and replied, "Father, don't worry. What kind of trash is Voldemort? He couldn't possibly harm me in the slightest."
Just then, Ron burst out from the crowd and grabbed Harry's arm.
"Harry! How are my parents—I remember they came to watch the Grand Final!"
Harry grabbed his arm and reassured him, "Brother, don't worry. I just saw it on the Marauder's Map. The Chief and his wife's names are there. I think they're all safe and sound."
Upon hearing this, Ron breathed a sigh of relief, his chest still heaving.
Although they had a thousand words to say, the hall was filled with a desolate and mournful atmosphere, a scene of sorrow and sobbing, not a place for conversation.
So Harry called Ron and Hermione, and the two left the castle and headed straight for the Quidditch pitch.
It was around 11:00 AM, about the second watch of the night. The sky was as dark as if pine soot had been spilled, and you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.
Harry drew his wand and cast a glowing spell. Ron also drew his willow wand and lit a fire on the tip.
Hermione simply stretched out her hand, and a bright light suddenly appeared in her palm, as bright as a jade plate and as radiant as daylight, illuminating the area within a radius of ten feet.
Ron stared, speechless, dumbfounded. "When did you learn to cast spells without a staff?!"
"I don't cast spells without a wand," Hermione shrugged. "In a sense, I am the wand."
He then recounted in detail how he had become one with the Elder Wand. Ron listened with burning envy and clicked his tongue, saying, "No wonder you haven't drunk the Animagus potion. You were waiting for the Elder Wand."
Hermione sighed slightly and said, "If I could bring the dead back to life, I would rather not have the Elder Wand."
Upon hearing this, all three fell silent, with only the mournful sound of the night wind.
After a long silence, Ron clapped his hands and encouraged everyone, "Don't forget what the last Deathly Hallow is."
"Maybe if we find the resurrection stone, we can bring everyone back to life—what's going on?!"
As Ron was speaking, he suddenly shouted, startling Hermione so much that her shoulders trembled.
When the group looked closely, they realized that there was a corpse lying three feet in front of them.
The neck was now just a gaping hole the size of a bowl, the surrounding flesh ripped into tiny fragments, black and sticky under the moonlight.
Harry frowned, scrutinizing the headless corpse from head to toe. The brocade robe, embroidered with gold and purple, was stained with blood, its stitches and patterns ostentatiously exaggerated, yet it looked increasingly familiar.
After staring at him for a while, his eyes suddenly narrowed, and he exclaimed, "Damn it! Isn't this Lockhart?!"
Upon hearing this revelation, Ron and Hermione looked again and indeed saw that the appearance and clothing of the corpse were superimposed on Lockhart's image in their minds.
"Lockhart is dead?" Ron asked, still somewhat incredulous. "He should have hidden the moment the Death Eaters broke in."
Harry remained silent, his face grim as he glanced around. Suddenly, he saw Moody lying unconscious on the ground not far away.
He lunged forward, checked her pulse, then raised his staff and shouted, "Seize her spirit and control her thoughts!"
In an instant, Moody's memories unfolded like a revolving lantern.
First, he was subjected to Voldemort's Imperius Curse, and then that guy sealed Crouch's remnant soul into his body.
When Crouch Jr.'s affair came to light, he pretended to be frightened and claimed that he "didn't trust anyone else," thus fooling the second round of questioning.
Upon seeing this, Harry immediately realized that Moody was Voldemort's true mole.
His anger flared up, and he cursed inwardly:
Damn it! This bald thief is the most cunning and treacherous birdman in the magic world!
Then I turned back the page to the events that unfolded at the Quidditch stadium tonight.
A few breaths later, Harry's expression suddenly darkened, and he spat out a sentence through gritted teeth.
"They died because of me."
Ron was gathering the pieces of flesh on the ground when he heard this and was stunned. "What?"
Harry said nothing, simply hoisted Lockhart's headless corpse onto his shoulder, and strode back towards the castle.
Upon reaching the hall, one could see a flickering lamp, and in the dim light, numerous corpses were arranged in dense layers.
Upon closer inspection, each person had a look of impending doom on their face.
Some stared in terror, some gaped in bewilderment, some were furious; their souls had long since vanished, leaving only their physical bodies lying stiffly on the ground.
There were a total of eighty-three corpses, sixty-two of whom were Hogwarts heroes.
Only one of the professors was killed, and that was Lockhart.
The surviving students huddled together around the perimeter, shoulder to shoulder, heel to heel, but not one of them uttered a word.
Only intermittent sobs could be heard, carried by the wind, like the murmuring of a spring from the earth. A chilling wind swept through the hall, making one's chest feel heavy and unable to breathe.
McGonagall stared at the corpses scattered on the ground, her eyes already moist. Her lips trembled for a moment, and she tried to speak several times, but she couldn't utter a single word.
Finally, he turned sharply to Harry and whispered, "Say something, Mr. Potter."
Harry strode forward, wand in his left hand and knife hilt in his right. He glanced around; the faces around him were half unfamiliar and half familiar, all staring intently at him.
He took a deep breath and roared, "The fight will not end until all blood is spilled!"
As soon as he finished speaking, people around him echoed his words.
The echoes arose from one place to the east and another to the west. At first, they were scattered and disorderly, but gradually they merged into one place, growing louder and louder, like an echo in a valley.
In no time, upstairs and downstairs, old and young, men and women, students and professors, hundreds of voices all converged into one.
"The fight will continue until the blood is spilled!"