Chapter 448

Deep within the collapsed forest.

A stone hand entwined with vines rose from the earth like a giant’s limb; even at a glance, its diameter exceeded twenty meters.

More terrifying was the fact that the giant hand was covered in intricate magical circuits, proving this was no simple transfiguration.

It was composed of at least three advanced transfiguration spells working in unison.

This far surpassed Wizard Sean’s limits.

Yet fire still burned in his vertical pupils.

Cat’s eyes allowed him to see in the dark, and also helped him understand something else.

He knew some things were higher than others.

“I leave the rest to you.”

Wizard Sean said to Professor Quirrell.

At this moment, Quirrell had frozen, staring as the giant hand emerged from the earth like a divine miracle, trapping the greatest white wizard of the century.

He was still dazed.

“For your will.”

His subconscious had already answered for him.

“Thank you, Professor…”

Wizard Sean smiled in relief.

“Vine and Stone Shelter!”

The young wizard chanted loudly.

The vines had appeared without warning; Will and Quirrell only knew that as the vines surged like a storm, the giant hand was layered with one transfiguration after another.

This was precisely Wizard Sean’s method to counter restoration magic: continuously adding advanced transfigurations, forcing the opponent to match him head-on.

That is, whenever the opponent undid it, he reinforced it.

Unless the opponent could destroy all his transfiguration circuits in an instant—like the fire dragon’s wingbeat just now—it was impossible to break free from Vine and Stone Shelter.

“Excellent transfiguration. Seven minutes left, dear Mr. Green.”

Dumbledore’s voice drifted from nowhere.

The surroundings were pitch black; it was hard to see beyond the glow of the darkfire.

But Wizard Sean saw it: Dumbledore had opened a one-meter-high hole in his Vine and Stone Shelter, point to surface.

Wizard Sean had no time to wonder how Dumbledore had done it—his body was already trembling on the verge of collapse.

“Help me, Professor Ravenclaw.”

He said then.

“You know this is only a lesson.”

Wizard Sean faintly heard a voice; he felt dizzy, as if back in the hospital wing a month ago.

“Professor Ravenclaw, please.”

Wizard Sean said to the voice.

“I’ve never seen you beg like this before—so why not?”

The voice put Wizard Sean at ease.

So what, then, is magic composed of?

If a wizard possesses all the knowledge and the same mental will built from identical memories as another wizard, can he achieve the same level of magic?

Ravenclaw said: What else?

“The second round begins.”

The black-haired young wizard raised his wand again.

A faint, mischievous smile curled at his lips—the kind typical of Ravenclaw students.

Come to think of it, Ravenclaw had unanimously voted Mr. Green “the least Ravenclaw of Ravenclaws.”

He showed neither Ravenclaw’s unbridled obsession with knowledge nor the house’s typical arrogance.

He was quiet, unassuming, like an endless, boundless ocean.

“If there were judges, I’d call this outright cheating.”

Dumbledore walked forward step by step, speaking casually, as if they were chatting over drinks.

Will drew his bow, watching Dumbledore approach Wizard Sean without defense or cover, and tensed his body rigidly.

“The greatest wizard of the century?”

The young wizard smiled.

“Oh, that’s all exaggeration,” said Dumbledore.

“Three minutes, how about it?”

The young wizard considered, then said.

“A reasonable time.”

Dumbledore nodded in approval.

“I owe him an explanation. He shouldn’t have used it here—there aren’t many chances left.”

The young wizard smiled warmly.

It was a deep, seasoned smile, yet on his face it looked sly.

“A rose rushing to become another rose isn’t a good thing.”

Dumbledore studied him closely, his smile openly revealed.

“Who knows? Do you have a timer? Has three minutes passed?”

The young wizard added.

Dumbledore’s conversational rhythm was broken; his smile froze on his face.

He looked toward the nearby house, nearly consumed by fire.

“Ravenclaw’s wisdom…”

Dumbledore sighed.

“Our student, you still have much to learn.”

The young wizard murmured softly, then collapsed into Quirrell’s arms, swaying.

The young wizard whispered softly, then collapsed limply into Quirrell’s arms.

Quirrell bellowed, then fixed his glare on Dumbledore.

He no longer cared to ponder the strange scene moments ago; veins bulged as he commanded the darkfire to burn hotter.

He knew clearly he could not burn away the curse—he couldn’t stop Dumbledore for even a second.

But he must fall before Dumbledore reached the Resurrection Stone.

“You’ve changed greatly—and well, Quirinus.

It proves that wizards live better without such intoxicating things as power.”

Dumbledore flicked his wand lightly; Quirrell and Puckridge the butler found themselves frozen in place.

They could only watch as Dumbledore walked toward the house, toward them.

Dark flames burned continuously in the gloom; thick, suffocating smoke circled the house; evil fire beasts devoured everything without restraint.

Without Quirrell’s control, they would soon devour the Resurrection Stone along with the curse.

Yet in this critical moment, Dumbledore stopped walking.

He looked slyly at the young wizard gripping his wand, and whispered:

“How is it that a wizard can grip his wand so tightly while unconscious?”

Wizard Sean opened his eyes; his vertical pupils slowly widened, shifting into normal pupils.

Wizard Sean opened his eyes; his vertical pupils slowly expanded, transforming into normal ones.

Wizard Sean asked softly, gazing at the still-burning house.

“Respected Rowena probably didn’t just want to talk to me?”

Dumbledore changed the subject.

“Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore. I still have some magic left.”

Wizard Sean spoke frankly.

He had always known he could ask Ravenclaw to substitute for him—he possessed most of Ravenclaw’s memories.

But the problem was, doing so carried severe consequences—the wizard’s soul would undergo utterly unpredictable changes.

The logic was like how dark magic alters a wizard’s personality.

So Wizard Sean had never intended to use it.

Unless absolutely forced.

“A fine practical lesson. I’d give you a perfect score.”

Dumbledore smiled warmly.

“Thank you… but… in the end, does forgetting make everything beautiful?”

Wizard Sean asked carefully.

“Not quite, child. Love and forgetting are bound in a knot—it will never release us, even when rusted.”

“It’s not like that, child. Between love and forgetting lies a knotted tie—it will not let us go until it rusts away.”

Dumbledore blinked kindly.

"So..."

"So I entrusted everything to you, child."

"Do you remember? Elders ignoring the abilities of the young is arrogance and folly."

"I still have time, child; I was not without choice."

"So it is I who thank you, dear Wizard Sean."

"Hope—that is something as precious as honey."

Dumbledore's eyes shimmered.

Wizard Sean believed they held stars inside.