Hogwarts: Bloodline Legend

Chapter 863 244: Baiting with Potter_2

"This is important."

The old headmaster's voice suddenly became extremely serious. His blue eyes stared directly at the young wizard as he gestured for Ian to sit on the visitor's chair while he moved behind the desk. As he passed by Fox, the Phoenix suddenly opened one golden eye, letting out a barely audible chirp.

As if expressing concern for its master.

"I understand, Professor."

Ian nodded quickly, suppressing his curiosity, choosing to be obedient. "I just tried my magic, nothing else happened.

This might seem a bit like trying to cover up.

However, it still brought a slight sense of relief to Dumbledore. He obviously had no intention of explaining anything to Ian, instead opting to change the subject directly.

"Regarding the changes happening to you, I think there's no need for any special treatment for now. Just pay a bit of attention, and I'll try my best to investigate the cause of this situation."

Dumbledore's words always had a calming effect. With his ten fingers touching, he looked thoughtful through his half-moon spectacles, as if making some kind of judgment.

"I will thoroughly investigate your bloodline origin."

The old headmaster's blue eyes flickered slightly behind his half-moon glasses.

He clearly had some speculations based on rumors.

"…"

In response, the little wizard opened his mouth but couldn't find any words to explain.

There's no other way, compared to the possibility of having once been a bird, maybe being considered a super half-blood isn't so bad, at least it's human, isn't it?

Seeing the little wizard looking somewhat dejected, the portrait of Phineas Black on the wall suddenly let out a loud laugh but was immediately silenced by a look from Dumbledore.

"Ah, it's already so late." Dumbledore suddenly turned to the magical clock on the wall, its hands pointing toward the end of the dinner hour. "I think we should continue this conversation another day. The dinner meticulously prepared by the house-elves shouldn't be missed. I believe they have even made your favorite beef tonight."

Such a feeble excuse to bid farewell.

Ian sensitively noticed that perhaps Dumbledore was a bit perturbed. Without saying much, he stood up and slightly bowed to the old headmaster in front of him.

"Alright, Professor, I shall take my leave."

As Ian stood up to bid farewell, the brass door handle felt cold and chilling in his hand. In the moment of turning around, he took one last glance through the crack of the closing door—Dumbledore was still seated behind the desk, the candlelight flickering on his wrinkled face, clearly illuminating the furrows carved by time.

That's aged.

That's old.

And there's a sense of deep melancholy.

"Good night, Professor," Ian said softly.

"Good night, Ian." Dumbledore's voice seemed to come from a far distance.

"Sweet dreams."

He softly blessed.

The atmosphere in the office became increasingly quiet. After the little wizard left, the smile on Dumbledore's face gradually disappeared, replaced by an extremely complex expression.

He raised his magic wand.

The sound of the lock clicking shut was heard.

Only to see the Elder Wand draw a silver-blue arc across the air, twelve magical barriers rose from the corners of the office, sealing the entire space impenetrably.

"Sorry, my old friends."

Dumbledore apologized softly to the portraits on the wall, gently tapping his wand, causing all the figures in the portraits to instantly freeze, even Phineas' raised wine glass halted in mid-air.

This was certainly an incredible manipulation.

To think he could even hide some secrets in these portraits, but now it's unclear why he showed caution against the portraits of past headmasters—of course, perhaps it's not due to mistrust of the headmasters. His distrust might be due to other reasons; anyway, after sealing the office, Dumbledore then stood before the mirror.

He took a deep breath, his expression slightly pained, slowly unbuttoning his clothes, revealing his chest. By now, his chest no longer had the former well-built muscles.

The skin appeared slightly saggy and loose.

Only to see Dumbledore extend a trembling hand, gently wiping his chest. As he moved, when his pale fingertips brushed across the third rib on the left, web-like black patterns suddenly surfaced under the skin—the mysterious black pattern the little wizard had witnessed before reappeared.

Next to it were silver runes sealing this pattern.

It was a terrifying design composed of intersecting triangles, circles, and lines.

Clearly.

Ian did not see wrong.

The design bore a seventy percent resemblance to the Deathly Hallows symbol, but its difference lay in the twisted vines that spread like some parasitic plant among the blood vessels.

"Even divine spirit's power can't weaken it?" Dumbledore gazed at his reflection in the mirror, eyes filled with resignation and fatigue, letting out a slight sigh.

He stared at the mark on his chest. In the reflection, the black patterns were slowly but resolutely corroding the silver rune's defense, like ink spreading on parchment.

Perhaps due to the reactivation of this pattern, Dumbledore's expression showed a hint of pain, prompting the distant Fox to fly over directly.

Its crystalline tears dripped onto the writhing black patterns. As the Phoenix tears touched, the black patterns were suppressed, soon being subdued by the silver runes again.