Chapter 446: The Difficult Practical Lesson

Now, the first obstacle has been resolved.

But Wizard Sean Green felt no relief.

Before Will used magic to open the box, before Professor Quirrell destroyed the ring with Fiendfyre, Wizard Sean Green observed the outside of the house intently.

“Professor, if possible, please preserve the Resurrection Stone.”

Wizard Sean Green said.

“Ah… I shall obey your will.”

Quirrell answered without hesitation.

To him, the value of the Resurrection Stone mattered nothing; Green’s will must be carried out.

Wizard Sean Green turned his gaze back to the outside.

He felt a faint doubt… had he misunderstood?

His thoughts returned to the Resurrection Stone.

The magical world holds a fact easily noticed but rarely known: Salazar Slytherin was very likely a descendant of Cadmus Peverell, one of the three brothers.

The tale of the three brothers predates the founding of Hogwarts, and the Gaunt family was both Slytherin’s descendant and a descendant of the three brothers.

From this, it is not hard to infer that Slytherin likely once possessed the Resurrection Stone.

Ravenclaw’s memories in Wizard Sean Green’s mind confirmed this.

Ravenclaw had studied Slytherin.

Not just his Parseltongue, but also his Resurrection Stone ring.

The Resurrection Stone, a legendary stone from Death said to bring the dead back to life.

In truth, it cannot truly resurrect the dead—it only summons a substance more real than a soul, yet more ethereal than a body, like the Riddle who emerged from the diary.

But it clearly involves the secrets of a wizard’s soul.

From Ravenclaw’s research, Wizard Sean Green easily drew a conclusion.

The Resurrection Stone does indeed interfere with a wizard’s soul, but its interference resembles a terrifying, brutal ancient magic.

This powerful alchemical artifact can pierce the Veil and summon souls that should have passed on.

But that is all—it summons only a hollow shell, missing the most essential element.

Without it to link to the wizard’s soul, the Resurrection Stone can summon only a “magicless” wizard.

—Neither possessing a wizard’s wisdom nor a wizard’s emotion.

It was meant to be an object Death used to mock the greedy; now, it seemed to hold an unexpected possibility.

It can summon a wizard’s soul.

In dreams, this was a power Wizard Sean Green desperately needed.

On the other side, Quirrell had begun cautiously; he roared, and the room filled with rolling, surging sounds.

What had been a small cluster of flame rapidly expanded, and soon the fire took shape into a horde of beasts made of flame:

Salamanders, Chimeras, and dragons, rising and falling, rising again.

The accumulated trash in the room was hurled into the air, swallowed by their fanged mouths, crushed beneath their clawed feet, and finally consumed by hellish flames.

The fire beasts surrounded the ring inside the box, closing in tighter, their claws, tentacles, and tails snapping, heat waves forming walls around it.

At this moment, Wizard Sean Green was especially cautious, for Fiendfyre was extremely difficult to control, and Professor Quirrell could not be disturbed.

Wizard Sean Green looked again toward the outside—quiet, pitch-black, broken only by the occasional cry of startled birds.

It seemed he had guessed wrong.

Headmaster Dumbledore did not enjoy tracking young wizards so much.

Soon, smoke and heat grew thick enough to choke; before Wizard Sean Green, the evil fire devoured the Gaunt shack, the filthy walls, all the secrets within the room.

Amid the collective shrieks of the monsters, a heart-rending scream rang out.

“Damn thing—”

The voice howled, shaking Wizard Sean Green and Professor Quirrell’s eardrums with a deafening buzz.

Professor Quirrell clearly recognized the thing—he trembled uncontrollably, his whole body shaking like a sieve.

As the pitch-black, twisted face surged forward, Quirrell’s veins bulged; he roared, and flame erupted from the tip of his wand.

The fire surged visibly stronger; the thing’s shriek grew louder.

Had Wizard Sean Green not cast a Muffling Charm long ago, every villager in Little Hangleton would have been awakened.

Wizard Sean Green did not wish to be discovered, did not wish to be summoned by the Ministry; he also knew that the more corrupt an institution, the more it craved to display its power.

Quirrell was still trembling, his eyes bloodshot, fixed unblinkingly on the black mist shaped like a human head.

“Come on, damn it!”

He cursed, as if released.

The struggle lasted minutes; finally, the Fiendfyre burned out.

A ring fell to the ground.

Quirrell collapsed, trembling, his body supported by a pair of hands.

“Professor, you’ve worked hard.”

A voice said beside his ear.

“Ah…”

His throat was hoarse; he could not speak.

His body had not suffered severe damage, but his spirit had just endured a trial.

Voldemort—Voldemort himself…

“Ah, I’ve arrived just in time?”

An unexpected voice sounded.

Wizard Sean Green instinctively curled his fingers, retrieving the Resurrection Stone into the Book of the Wizard.

“Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Wizard Sean Green looked up.

The old wizard with long, white beard stood at the door, gazing kindly at Wizard Sean Green.

Wizard Sean Green sighed—it seemed Headmaster Dumbledore did enjoy tracking young wizards.

They had destroyed the Horcrux, but that did not mean they had destroyed the curse.

Wizard Sean Green had thought he had plenty of time to break it; if he failed, they could still destroy the Resurrection Stone. Now it seemed time always liked to mock.

“Professor, do you remember what we discussed?”

Wizard Sean Green whispered to Professor Quirrell.

“Of course.”

Recovered, Quirrell stood instantly beside Wizard Sean Green, together with Puckidge the butler, watching Dumbledore warily.

“This will be dangerous.”

Wizard Sean Green said.

“For your will.”

Quirrell spoke slowly, each word deliberate.

At the door, the aged voice spoke again:

“We must talk?”

Dumbledore’s smile vanished; he suddenly looked much older.

“Yes.”

Wizard Sean Green gripped his wand tightly.

True, he had learned many spells, some quite powerful, but facing Dumbledore, he had no confidence.

“I searched for it for so long… I had to learn to live with guilt and unbearable sorrow—that was the price of my shame… but now, is there a chance?”

Dumbledore said in a hoarse voice.

Wizard Sean Green saw that Dumbledore’s eyes no longer sparkled with wisdom; he knew this greatest of wizards was, to some degree, already ruled by overwhelming emotion.

“Even if it is dangerous?”

Wizard Sean Green asked.

“Even if it is dangerous.”

Dumbledore’s deep eyes were like an endless ocean.

“Child, I want you to understand: this is my choice.

Love and death are always one; the will to love is the will to die.”

He said.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, would you be willing to give me a practical lesson?”

Wizard Sean Green asked suddenly.

“Of course.”

Dumbledore smiled.