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[Marvel's Hogwarts Professor] Chapter 526 - 530
🕑 Added 2025-02-24 01:00:04 +0000 UTCChapter 526
Bang! Bang! Bang!
On the grassy dueling field, Wanda’s crimson whip cracked through the air with a sharp snap, striking mercilessly toward Ian.
Ian’s eyes narrowed. With a swift step, his enchanted boots shimmered with a green glow, and he vanished from the whip's trajectory, retreating like a gust of blue wind. His movements were fluid, swift, and precise.
Without wasting a breath, Ian flicked his wand, sending a barrage of scarlet spells streaking through the air—each one humming with power.
The air sizzled. The fiery whip and Ian’s spells collided mid-flight—Bang! Bang!—bursting into flashes of magical sparks. Wanda’s whip, imbued with her chaotic magic, shattered most of the incoming attacks.
Yet, several spells pierced through—Repelling Hex! Disarming Charm! Crushing Curse!—their red flares colliding against Wanda’s form.
Her enchanted robes flared with a protective shimmer, absorbing the brunt of the spells. However, the impact forced her back several paces, boots skidding across the earth. Wanda’s golden eyes flashed with a mixture of irritation and challenge. She glared at Ian.
“No mercy, huh?” Ian quipped with a smirk. “Such a beauty, but completely ruthless.”
Snap!
With a sharp flick of her fingers, Wanda’s eyes ignited, their hue shifting into a blazing golden-red—like a phoenix reborn from fire.
The whip dissolved into countless crimson sparks, scattering into the air before vanishing entirely.
But in its place—
ROAR!
Three colossal dragons, formed from molten crimson flames, emerged behind her. Their serpentine bodies coiled and flickered, exuding waves of searing heat as they prowled the air, circling Ian like predatory beasts ready to strike.
Ian’s smile faded. His fingers tightened around his wand. His emerald eyes reflected the fiery beasts. “Unbelievable…” he muttered. “Such a spell would take me hours to conjure.”
The fiery dragons hissed, closing in. Their molten forms distorted the air with ripples of intense heat.
But Ian was already moving—
With a swift chant, he flourished his wand, and from its tip erupted a dense, icy white mist. The thick fog billowed outward, quickly swallowing the battlefield in a cold, obscuring blanket.
Shhhhhhhh!
The mist spread rapidly, swallowing not only the flaming dragons but also cloaking the grassy plains and a towering figure resting in the distance—a massive Ukrainian Ironbelly with pearlescent white scales.
The dragon, nestled far from the battle, stirred. Its crimson eyes flickered open. It raised its head, nostrils flaring as it caught the scents and sounds of combat—the hiss of magic, the crackle of fire.
Its gaze settled on the distant flashes of flame and the silhouettes of battle within the mist. The beast’s eyes, vast and ancient, softened with a hint of nostalgia.
That human... my master...
The Ironbelly, affectionately named ‘Snow’ by Wanda, had only been under her care for a couple of months. Yet those months had been the happiest days of its long, tortured life.
Gone were the iron shackles and searing whips from Gringotts. Wanda had healed its wounds—both body and soul. Now, its days were filled with leisure: soaring through the skies, carrying its master on carefree rides, and enjoying the envy of passing wizards.
Best of all was the food. Fresh, rich, and tailored to its appetite—far better than the tasteless scraps from its old prison. Life felt... perfect.
But now...
The battle called.
“Snow!” Wanda’s voice pierced the mist, her soul-bond command ringing in the dragon’s heart. “Get over here and help me crush Ian!”
The crimson mark of the bond flared deep within Snow’s spirit, urging it into action.
The dragon’s massive pupils contracted. Its wings flared wide, and rows of emerald-tipped spikes bristled along its spine—signs of readiness for combat.
Its master had summoned it. And no matter how peaceful life had become, Snow would always obey.
Woooosh! Woooosh!
With powerful thrusts of its wings, the Ironbelly surged into the sky, the wind from its ascent dispersing the cloying fog.
Ian, still concealed, sensed the sudden shift in pressure. His heart sank as he felt the massive presence approaching.
“A dragon?!” he blurted. “Oh, come on, Wanda!”
Without hesitation, Ian’s wand pulsed. The lingering mist thickened and coiled into tangible forms—white chains that shot toward Snow, aiming to bind its wings, tail, and legs.
But the moment those chains touched the dragon’s scales—
SNAP! SNAP!
The restraints shattered like brittle glass.
The sudden sensation—chains, cold and binding—triggered a deep, primal memory within Snow. Memories of cold vault floors... relentless whips... and the agony of captivity.
Its eyes burned, but now with something far more primal: Rage.
The Ironbelly let out a deafening, thunderous roar, shaking the very air. Dark green stripes began to ripple across its white scales, and its once-pearl spikes darkened to an ominous emerald hue.
The air around it grew heavy—thick with a dragon’s raw, primal power.
Then—
BOOM!
The beast launched forward, legs pounding the earth with seismic force. It tore through the fog, straight toward Ian, demolishing anything in its path. The ground cracked and trembled under its sheer power.
Ian’s eyes widened. “Oh, hell—”
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The enchanted mist shackles shattered like fragile glass. Ian barely managed a teleporting sidestep, appearing several yards away, his heart pounding.
And in the distance—
“Good job, Snow!” Wanda whooped, her voice bursting with delight. She pumped her fist into the air, her golden eyes sparkling. “That’s the spirit! Crush him!”
Her voice was jubilant, completely oblivious to the sheer ferocity of Snow’s berserk state.
Ian, ducking and dodging through the terrain, felt his lips twitch. “Wanda!” he bellowed, weaving around another destructive claw swipe. “Did you seriously bring your pet to our duel?!”
“Hey!” Wanda shot back cheerfully, “You’re the one who always says ‘Use every tool in your arsenal!’”
“That doesn’t mean calling in the cavalry!”
The earth trembled with Snow’s furious charges, and Ian’s frustration deepened. “You’re unbelievable!”
Shatter to pieces! Repulse quickly!
Ian flicked his wand, firing a barrage of hexes aimed at the dragon’s wings to slow it down.
But—
Zing!
The spells collided with Snow’s emerald-tinted wings, and the magic fizzled out uselessly against the dragon’s thick scales, dissipating in harmless sparks.
Ian’s jaw clenched. “Seriously?! Its magic resistance is insane!”
Snow, undeterred, let out another fiery roar, blasting columns of searing flame toward Ian’s defensive puppets, melting them into slag.
“Snow!” Wanda urged, her voice brimming with excitement. “That’s it! Spit fire! More fire!”
The battlefield blazed, and Ian’s retreat became a frantic scramble. His robes were singed, his brow damp with sweat. Yet, he couldn't suppress a bitter chuckle.
“This is absurd,” he muttered. “First Wanda, now her overpowered pet. Where’s the fairness?”
His heart pounded. He had one more option—dark magic. He knew spells that could tear into a creature’s very soul.
But...
His eyes flicked to the dragon—Wanda’s pride, her companion, her friend.
If he used those curses, the damage would be irreversible. And Wanda… Wanda would never forgive him.
“Tch,” he clicked his tongue in frustration. “Damn it.”
Then—
“Snow! Faster!” Wanda’s voice rang out joyfully. “He’s running! Cut him off!”
The massive dragon, still half-berserk, surged forward—
Ian barely dodged another sweep of the wings, his breath ragged. “That’s it—” he gasped—“I’m done!”
With a frantic wave of his arms, he yelled:
“WANDA, CALL HIM OFF!”
His voice cracked with urgency. “I GIVE UP!”
Chapter 527
“Snow, stop.”
Wanda’s clear voice rang out, firm yet gentle. She raised her hands, forming an intricate magical gesture.
In response, a dark red sigil flashed across the snow-white forehead of the Ukrainian Ironbelly.
ROAR!
The mighty dragon bellowed, its voice rumbling with reluctance, but its wings slowed, and the tension in its muscles eased. With a heavy thump, it descended, claws digging into the grassy earth as it landed with a final, resounding quake.
Ian, still hovering mid-air, let out a long, audible sigh of relief. With a flick of his wand, the thick white mist that blanketed the battlefield began to dissolve, dispersing into the sky until the surrounding plains were clear once more.
Wanda, already at the dragon’s side, placed her palm on Snow’s smooth, cool scales. The dark green lines that had marred its pristine hide faded away, and its jagged spikes softened and retracted, returning to its natural, snowy white form.
“Good boy,” Wanda murmured affectionately, her fingers gliding over the warm scales. She smiled softly, then took a step back, her body lifting effortlessly into the air with a faint pulse of magic. She landed gracefully atop the dragon’s broad head, settling comfortably between the protective ridges.
Ian, descending from the sky to hover level with her, crossed his arms and gave her a flat, exasperated look.
“Really, Wanda?” he said, his voice heavy with disbelief. “This is how you fight now?”
Wanda, unbothered, grinned down at him. “What?” she teased, her green eyes sparkling mischievously. “A win’s a win.”
Ian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You called in a dragon!”
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “Snow is my pet,” she said with mock innocence, “which means he’s part of my strength. If you didn’t want me to use him, you should’ve specified no pets allowed.”
Ian gave her a long, suffering look. He opened his mouth to argue further but stopped halfway, sighing deeply instead. He knew better than to get into a debate with Wanda. She always found a way to twist the rules in her favor.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he muttered, his voice laced with defeat. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
Wanda’s smile grew smug. “Winning’s what counts,” she said breezily. “Besides, Snow deserves a little exercise.”
Her voice softened slightly, though, as she added, “Not that it really helps my combat skills. Snow’s a powerhouse, but I’m a wizard, not a summoner. If I keep relying on him, Master Steve’s lectures will never end.”
Ian gave a half-hearted chuckle. “You’re not wrong,” he replied. “Steve’s got a lot to say about ‘discipline’ and ‘self-reliance.’”
The banter between them fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. Ian floated down to the ground, landing lightly on his feet. He had just begun dusting himself off when Wanda’s voice broke the quiet.
“Ian,” she said suddenly, her tone more serious, “are you free anytime soon?”
Ian raised an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind?” he asked cautiously.
Wanda’s lips curled into a small, hopeful smile—one Ian instantly recognized. It was the smile—the one she used when she was about to drag him into trouble.
“How about you join me in making a request to Miss Carter?” she suggested sweetly.
Ian narrowed his eyes immediately, his posture shifting from casual to guarded. “What for?” he asked, his voice slow and measured.
Wanda met his gaze directly. “I want to take Snow back to his homeland,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “I felt it—especially during the fight. He misses his home.”
She paused, looking away briefly. “I want to grant him that. Let him see his birthplace again. Even if it’s just once.”
Her words were sincere, but Ian’s sharp gaze didn’t miss the slight flicker of guilt in her eyes.
“That’s not your only reason,” he said knowingly.
Wanda hesitated for a split second before sighing. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I do want to see the outside world myself. Ever since we arrived, I’ve been stuck in either Lockhart’s magical suitcase or the Kamar Taj grounds. I’ve never even visited Hogwarts—just Gringotts that one time. I’ve barely seen Diagon Alley, let alone the rest of the wizarding world. Don’t you think it’s time to experience it?”
Ian folded his arms, his eyes thoughtful. He understood her feelings all too well.
But—
“Kamar Taj isn’t a playground,” he reminded her. “You know why we’re under lockdown. We’re a school now, like Hogwarts. Do you think they let their students run off whenever they want?”
Wanda pouted slightly but said nothing.
Ian continued, “It’s been, what, three or four months since Kamar Taj officially opened? We’re barely past orientation. Most of the students aren’t even battle-ready yet. If we start wandering around, we could draw attention to Kamar Taj before it’s prepared to handle the scrutiny. And you know how Lockhart feels about that.”
Wanda huffed, “Yeah, yeah. ‘Don’t provoke the wizarding world,’ ‘Keep a low profile,’ ‘Preserve the dream realm.’ I’ve heard the lectures.”
She kicked a small rock on the ground. “But it’s not like we are ordinary students,” she argued. “You, me, Remy, Vera—we’re his first students. He practically drilled magic into our bones. The rules aren’t as strict for us, right?”
Ian shook his head. “Still need a reason, Wanda. You know Miss Carter. She won’t approve anything without proper justification.”
Wanda pursed her lips, then asked, “So... will you help me or not?”
Ian was silent, considering. She was impulsive, but her heart was in the right place. And truthfully... he wanted to go too.
After a moment, his lips curved into a small, sly grin. “You’re going about this all wrong,” he said, his voice lowering conspiratorially.
Wanda’s ears perked up. “Oh?”
Ian’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Here’s what we’ll do: We won’t ask for a trip.”
“No?” Wanda blinked in confusion.
“We’ll propose a research expedition,” Ian said smoothly. “A field study on the reproduction and habitat of Ukrainian Ironbellies as part of Kamar Taj’s magical ecosystem initiative.”
Wanda’s eyes widened slightly, but Ian wasn’t finished.
“We’ll say it’s for—” He began counting on his fingers, “—gathering ecological data, advancing our knowledge of dragon behavior, and establishing potential breeding protocols for endangered magical species. All in service to Kamar Taj’s biological research division.”
He smirked. “After all, dragons are incredibly rare magical creatures. And right now? Kamar Taj’s bestiary is lacking.”
Wanda’s mouth slowly opened in awe.
“And of course,” Ian continued smoothly, “we’ll request funding support for travel and equipment.”
Wanda’s eyes practically sparkled. “...Free food and fun?” she whispered excitedly.
Ian chuckled. “All expenses covered.”
Wanda pressed her hands to her heart, as if Ian had just proposed to her. “Genius…” she breathed. “Absolute genius.”
But Ian wasn’t done. “We’ll also ‘reach out’ to the local Ministry of Magic using Kamar Taj’s diplomatic channels,” he added. “You know—‘academic cooperation’ and all that. Build some goodwill with the locals while we’re at it.”
Wanda was stunned. Her mind whirled with the possibilities, her previous nervousness forgotten. This wasn’t sneaking out—it was strategy.
Ian gave her a smug look. “See? You wanted a vacation. But now it’s a mission.”
Wanda clapped him on the shoulder with stars in her eyes. “You, sir, are a visionary.”
Ian smirked. “And you owe me dinner if this works.”
Wanda grinned back. “Deal!”
Then, Ian’s voice turned practical. “But… it’ll look more legitimate if we bring in Remy and Vera. Four people—just enough for a proper expedition team without raising eyebrows.”
Wanda nodded quickly. “I’ll get them on board. No way they’ll pass up a free adventure.”
Ian’s eyes narrowed mischievously. “Oh, and… let’s sell the performance a little more. Make it convincing.”
Wanda tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Ian’s grin turned devious. “Have Vera brew up some potions to make Snow look... sickly. Sluggish. We’ll say it’s ‘environmental distress.’”
Wanda gasped, her expression a mix of shock and delight. “A pity card?! Brilliant!”
“Nothing tugs heartstrings like a ‘poor, homesick dragon,’” Ian replied with a wink. “We’ll bring Snow along—visibly unwell—and present our project as urgent for his wellbeing.”
Wanda’s cheeks ached from grinning so hard. “Ian,” she said sincerely, “You’re an evil genius. I love it.”
Ian laughed. “Just remember who’s doing the talking when we get to Miss Carter.”
“You’ve got it!” Wanda declared happily, already flying off to find Remy and Vera. “Leave the hard part to you!”
Ian sighed, shaking his head. “Figures…” he muttered. “She gets the fun part, and I get to sweet-talk the teacher.”
But despite his grumbling, he couldn’t suppress the smirk tugging at his lips.
This was going to be fun.
Chapter 528
Afternoon in the British Wizarding World. The sun bathed Diagon Alley in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows over the cobbled streets. The air buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the occasional burst of magical sparks from street performers entertaining passing children.
Four young figures strolled leisurely through the lively scene—two men and two women. Their striking features turned more than a few heads. Passersby couldn’t help but glance their way, not just for their youthful charm but for the air of power and confidence that surrounded them.
The shopkeepers’ smiles said it all. Each time the group entered a store, the transaction ended with the owner personally seeing them off, beaming with delight. The weight of their purchases had clearly left behind a satisfying pile of Galleons.
Of the four, the most eye-catching was the red-haired witch. Not only for her vibrant hair and delicate features but also for the tiny creature perched on her shoulder—a miniature fire dragon, dazzlingly white, with shimmering scales that glinted like crystals in the afternoon sun. The little dragon flapped its wings from time to time, soaring briefly above her head before settling back down.
The creature’s name was Snow, Wanda’s loyal companion. A powerful Ukrainian Ironbelly, magically shrunken to a pocket-sized form. Should danger arise, Wanda could dispel the shrinking charm in an instant, unleashing Snow’s full, terrifying form.
As the group passed a window display showcasing enchanted brooms, Wanda turned to her closest friend, Vera, her voice brimming with curiosity.
“Vera, what about Hogwarts? Should we visit?” Wanda asked eagerly. “I heard their Forbidden Forest is crawling with magical creatures—centaurs too!”
Vera, tall and poised, with raven-black hair and sharp sapphire eyes, replied without hesitation. “Hogwarts? Forget it.” She shook her head. “You’re not getting in without a rock-solid reason. It’s their top rule—no outsiders allowed.”
Wanda’s face fell. “Seriously?”
Vera nodded. “They’re strict, especially since so many young wizards are studying there. As for the Forbidden Forest… yes, it’s full of magical creatures. Centaurs, thestrals, acromantulas—you name it. But setting foot in there without permission?” She gave Wanda a pointed look. “Either you sneak in or force your way through. And unless you want the Hogwarts professors on your back, I don’t recommend it.”
Wanda’s shoulders slumped. She had been hoping for something exciting.
They had come to the British wizarding world under a formal pretense: Researching dragon ecosystems for Kamar Taj. Ian’s carefully worded proposal, paired with all four of their signatures, had earned them a rare clearance from Peggy Carter, though not without conditions.
"Produce results," Carter had said firmly, "and stay out of trouble. You represent Kamar Taj. If you cause problems, you’ll answer to me."
It wasn’t just about rules. Lockhart’s actions—sneaking into the dream world and stealing its origin—meant that a stable, low-profile environment was crucial. Wanda, Ian, Vera, and Remy understood this well. Their bond with Kamar Taj wasn’t just as students—they were entrusted with its secrets. They knew where the line was.
Wanda might be adventurous, but she wasn’t reckless. Forcing their way into Hogwarts over curiosity? Not worth it.
With Hogwarts off the table, Wanda’s eyes sparkled with a new idea.
“Vera,” she said, brightening, “how about France?” She grinned playfully. “Didn’t you say your father’s a famous alchemist? We could visit his place! I’d love to see his workshop.”
Vera’s face stiffened slightly. Her lips parted as if to reply, but no words came. A flicker of hesitation passed through her eyes before she fell silent.
Before Wanda could press her, another voice, laced with dry sarcasm, cut through the air.
“Wanda,” said Remy, tall and sharp-eyed, his tone dripping with exasperation, “are you seriously not paying attention to world news?”
Wanda blinked, puzzled. “What?”
Remy gave her a long, unimpressed stare. “You do know that Voldemort has conquered France, right?”
The cheerful expression slipped from Wanda’s face. “Oh…” she mumbled, flushing with embarrassment.
Remy folded his arms. “Yeah. So unless your idea of a vacation is being tortured by Death Eaters, maybe skip France.”
Wanda gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Oops. Guess I wasn’t paying attention…”
Remy sighed. “Clearly.”
Wanda, determined to escape her blunder, quickly changed the subject. “Vera,” she said, “how are your parents doing?”
Vera’s tense expression softened. “They’re in Egypt,” she replied. “The Alchemy Association invited them for a research project. Something to do with ancient magical inscriptions.”
At the mention of Egypt, Wanda’s eyes lit up with fresh excitement. “Egypt? With pyramids and everything? That sounds amazing!” Her voice bubbled with enthusiasm. “How about we go to Egypt too? I’ve always wanted to see the pyramids!”
Before anyone could answer, a soft flutter of wings brushed against her cheek.
Flap! Flap!
It was Snow, his little eyes narrowed, his body hovering just inches from her face. Through their soul bond, Wanda felt his displeasure—gentle but unmistakable.
The message was clear.
Egypt? What about my home?
Snow’s home was nowhere near Egypt. His birthplace was the wild, shadowed expanse of the Black Forest of Albania, thousands of miles away.
Wanda chuckled softly, brushing her fingers against the tiny dragon’s wings. “I know, I know,” she teased, her voice light, “I promised we’d visit your hometown…”
But truthfully? She wasn’t in a hurry. The trip was supposed to be about fun. There was plenty of time for Snow’s home—later.
Remy, however, was less amused. “Egypt?” he echoed with a raised brow. “Seriously? And what exactly would you tell Teacher Carter?” His voice carried a familiar edge of sarcasm.
Wanda glanced sideways, “Well… we could say we’re… studying how dragons adapt to desert climates?”
Remy shot her a look so dry it could’ve withered a cactus. “Yeah. Because fire-breathing dragons are totally native to the Sahara,” he deadpanned.
Wanda pouted. “Hey, it was just an idea…”
Vera smirked, amused at their banter. “I’d love to hear Miss Carter’s reaction to that one,” she added with a chuckle.
“Something along the lines of: ‘Are you idiots?’” Remy muttered.
Wanda waved a hand. “Fine, fine, no Egypt.” She sighed. “So, where do we go?”
She didn’t want to plunge straight into the forests or the research. Not yet. She wanted to enjoy their journey—eat, drink, play, then adventure. That was the perfect order.
Ian, who had been quietly watching the sky, finally spoke. “What about Hogsmeade?” he suggested.
Wanda perked up. “Hogsmeade?”
Ian nodded, his voice calm and thoughtful. “It’s right next to Hogwarts. Bustling place. Lots of shops, interesting things to see. Little wizards love it.” He paused briefly, a small grin tugging at his lips. “And if we get tired, we can stop at the Hog’s Head Inn. I used to work there.”
Wanda’s eyes brightened with interest. “You worked at the Hog’s Head?”
Ian chuckled lightly. “Long story. But I know the owner. Good guy. And it’s a nice place to rest and plan our next move.”
Wanda turned to the others. “So, Hogsmeade?”
Vera nodded. “I’m in.”
Remy shrugged. “Sounds better than getting killed in France or roasted in Egypt.”
Wanda clapped her hands together, “Hogsmeade it is, then!”
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through a wooden tunnel, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and moss. Faint torchlight flickered against aged stone walls.
“Harry—Harry, slow down!” called a breathless voice behind him.
Harry Potter’s steps halted. His green eyes, colder than they once were, flicked back over his shoulder. Hermione Granger was trotting to catch up, her breath slightly uneven, her face lined with worry.
She met his gaze, and her heart clenched.
The warmth she had always seen in those green eyes was fading, replaced by something distant and sharp.
Professor McGonagall had warned her—Harry’s being affected by dark magic. His mood, his emotions… they’ll change.
But knowing didn’t mean accepting. This wasn’t the Harry she knew.
A few seconds later, another voice, rough and familiar, rang out.
“Oi, Harry! Wait up!”
Ron Weasley, red-faced from running, jogged up to join them. His eyes flicked between Harry and Hermione, confusion clear on his face.
Harry’s voice was cold. “Let’s go. Hogsmeade is ahead.”
He turned forward again, adding curtly, “I need to buy some potion ingredients. If you want to explore, do it on your own.”
Chapter 529
The familiar, rustic scent of aged wood and firewhiskey filled the air inside Hog’s Head Pub. Dusty glass bottles lined the shelves, and the dim lighting gave the pub a cozy, if somewhat worn, charm. The faint hum of muffled conversations mixed with the occasional clink of glasses.
Behind the counter, a gruff voice called out, breaking the relative quiet.
“Credence! Stop drinking and come help me out—or at least have a chat.”
Aberforth Dumbledore, the aged bartender and owner of the Hog’s Head, glanced toward the corner where a dark-haired young man sat nursing a glass of whiskey.
Aberforth’s hair was now as white as snow, his beard long and streaked with gray—features that made him unmistakably resemble his famous older brother, Albus Dumbledore.
The contrast with his companion was striking. The man sipping his drink looked barely in his twenties—short, dark hair, sharp features, and an air of restrained power. But appearances were deceiving. The youthful figure was none other than Aberforth’s son—Credence Barebone.
Their relationship wasn’t one most would guess at a glance. Father and son? Few would believe it. Yet, wizards had their ways—magic that could preserve youth and extend life beyond normal limits.
Credence, however, needed no magic to be formidable. Once powerful enough to challenge Gellert Grindelwald in his youth, his raw talent had since been honed through years of experience. Now, he was considered one of the strongest wizards in the world.
Still, even with all his strength, he couldn’t fully ignore his father’s summons. With a faint sigh, Credence rose from his seat, glass in hand, and made his way lazily to the counter.
Aberforth poured him a fresh shot of his favorite firewhiskey and, with a hint of fatherly concern in his voice, asked, “How’s the situation in the States? What brought you back?”
The old man’s eyes, lined with years of hardship, softened as he regarded his son. Their relationship, though repaired from the shadows of Credence’s painful past, was more like that of old friends than a traditional father and son. Yet the bond was there, unspoken but deeply felt.
Credence swirled the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip. “The U.S. was a mess,” he replied, his voice low and steady. “The goblins’ uprising caught the wizarding authorities off guard, but things have settled—for now.”
A cold glint flickered in his eyes. “The showdown between Dumbledore and Grindelwald took some heat off the battlefield. People are holding their breath, waiting to see who makes the next move.”
Aberforth frowned, his grip on the glass tightening slightly. “And you? Why’d you come back?”
A flicker of something dark crossed Credence’s face. “Because of Grindelwald.” His voice dropped lower, the air around him tightening with restrained power. “I fought him.”
Aberforth’s eyes sharpened. “Are you hurt?”
Credence’s jaw tensed, his voice laced with frustration. “No. But I couldn’t defeat him.”
Aberforth’s heart pounded despite himself. Credence rarely showed vulnerability—so the bitterness in his voice was telling.
“I thought… if I could break the seal that’s kept him caged all these years, I could finish him for good. But…” His fingers clenched around the glass, knuckles whitening. “That power… it’s beyond anything I expected.”
Aberforth’s protective instincts surged. “You shouldn’t have faced him alone,” he said firmly, his voice rough with concern. “That bastard’s already taken too much from our family. I won’t let him take you too.”
Credence looked away, the fire in his eyes briefly dimming. “He can’t kill me,” he said, his voice tight, “but he made sure I knew how close he could come.”
Aberforth’s lips pressed into a thin line, but before he could speak further, Credence continued.
“There’s more. Dumbledore came to meet me in the States.”
Aberforth stiffened at the mention of his brother. “Albus…” he muttered, his tone guarded. “What did he want from you?”
Credence’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He asked for my help. He wants me to carry out something… for him.”
The tension in Aberforth’s face deepened, his voice dropping to a near growl. “And what exactly is my brother scheming this time?”
The decades of bitterness were unmistakable. Aberforth knew his brother’s brilliance, but he also knew his ruthlessness. Dumbledore moved people like chess pieces—always with a greater game in mind.
Credence hesitated, his brows furrowed in thought. He hadn’t decided how much to trust Dumbledore. The man was family—his uncle—but trust didn’t come easily to Credence, not after his past.
“I…” he began, unsure. “He told me to keep it secret. Not to involve anyone.”
Aberforth’s eyes flashed. “Not even your own father?”
Credence’s lips pressed together. Then—
The sudden chime of the doorbell broke the tension, and a familiar, cheerful voice called out from the entrance.
“Boss! I’m here! And I brought some good friends with me!”
Aberforth immediately looked up. His eyes softened slightly at the sight of the newcomer.
Striding through the door was Ian, his face bright with a friendly smile. Three more figures followed closely behind—two women and one man, each exuding their own unique presence.
Aberforth’s feelings at the sight of Ian were… complicated. He remembered well how Ian had worked here, how he had once cleaned tables and poured drinks behind this very bar. But more than that, he knew Ian’s ties—Kamar Taj and Lockhart. That made things... complicated.
Still, his gruff exterior cracked just enough to offer a warm greeting.
“Ian,” he said, voice gruff but not unfriendly. “Good to see you. What’ll it be for you and your friends?” He paused, then added, “It’s on me today.”
Ian grinned and led his friends to the counter. “Thanks, Boss! I’ve been hyping up your cooking, so they had to come try it for themselves.”
He gestured to his companions. “Let me introduce you. This is Remy, Vera, and Wanda—my best friends.”
Aberforth gave each of them a curt nod. “Welcome to the Hog’s Head,” he said simply. “You’re friends of Ian? Then you’re friends of mine.”
At that moment, Ian’s gaze slid to the man standing beside Aberforth—the dark-haired wizard with an aura that felt… different. Their eyes met, and Ian sensed something potent beneath the surface.
Ian asked, “And… who’s this?”
Aberforth, with a note of pride in his voice, answered without hesitation. “My son. Credence.”
There was a brief silence.
Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait… son?”
She blinked between Aberforth, who looked every bit a grizzled seventy-year-old, and the youthful, twenty-something figure beside him.
Her first thought, unfiltered and blunt, slipped out:
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Did you get stronger with age or something?”
The absurd mental image of Aberforth somehow growing more virile with time flashed through her head.
Credence, having caught her stray thoughts through his natural Legilimency, chuckled aloud.
“Relax, little witch,” he said, his voice smooth with amusement. “I’m over sixty years old. This—” he gestured to himself, “—is just a perk of my bloodline and magic.”
Wanda, momentarily startled by the brush of his mental presence, narrowed her eyes slightly but let her curiosity take over. “Sixty? And you look like that?” Her green eyes sparkled with sudden interest. “How do you do it? Is it something you learned?” Her voice carried the unmistakable excitement of someone who had just found a new goal.
Vera, listening from beside her, perked up as well. A flicker of curiosity lit her usually composed expression. As a witch, the secret to lasting youth was hard to ignore.
Even Remy and Ian—while trying to appear nonchalant—were clearly paying attention.
Credence immediately caught on. Without needing Legilimency, their expressions said everything. He smirked lightly. “Ah,” he said, “that’s what you’re all after, huh?”
Wanda’s eyes gleamed. “So… can we learn it?” She leaned forward slightly, her eagerness barely restrained. “Teach us!”
Vera, more composed but no less intrigued, added smoothly, “We’d be happy to compensate you. Galleons, magical knowledge, artifacts—you name it.”
Credence’s eyes flicked to Vera, and a glint of approval showed in his gaze. “Smart girl,” he said. “You know how to negotiate.”
For a moment, he considered simply brushing them off. His longevity was deeply tied to his bloodline, something no ordinary wizard could replicate. But then his gaze shifted—to Wanda’s shoulder, where the tiny white dragon, Snow, rested.
Something shifted in his expression. His eyes narrowed, and a flicker of recognition passed through them.
“…That dragon,” he said slowly, his voice suddenly sharper. “It’s… different.”
A subtle tension crept into his posture, and his fingers twitched at his side as if he had sensed something he hadn’t expected.
But before he could speak further—
The door opened once again.
A cold draft swept into the room, carrying the faint scent of forest leaves and damp earth. Footsteps, measured and deliberate, crossed the threshold.
Credence’s head snapped toward the entrance, his sharp gaze fixing on the figure that entered. His eyes, burning faintly with black-red flames from his Obscurial power, narrowed as he recognized the newcomer.
A young man, clad in a black wizard’s robe, with a familiar lightning-shaped scar etched upon his forehead. His emerald eyes, dark and cold, swept the room.
Harry Potter.
Chapter 530
tread! tread! tread!
Harry Potter looked indifferent and walked slowly towards the Hog's Head Bar with an unhurried pace.
Hermione and Ron followed closely behind.
No matter what, Harry will always be their friend. Although Harry has changed a lot recently, these are not the reasons for the breakdown of their friendship.
"Drink, drink!"
"It's my brother who has to have a drink today."
"I'm late, please do it first."
"."
Just entering the Hog’s Head Bar, Hermione couldn't help but frown when she heard the noisy sounds of drinking and urging people to drink.
Sure enough, the rumors of black market trading in the Hog’s Head Bar were not false.
It's so chaotic and noisy, so it's perfect for doing some secret transactions.
Just as Hermione subconsciously followed Harry forward.
suddenly
tread!
Harry's footsteps suddenly stopped, and Hermione behind him had no time to react and almost bumped into Harry.
But at the critical moment, Ron gave her a hand.
Bring her to her senses.
And when he was suspicious, he followed Harry's stopped gaze and looked at the bar counter.
He saw 5 figure.
Three men and two women, all outstanding in appearance, subconsciously attracted his attention.
At this moment, Harry followed the sudden sense of alertness deep in his soul and looked directly at Credence.
Looking at the black and red flames in the other person's eyes, following his own instinct, Occlumency began to operate rapidly.
"Harry Potter!" Wanda said in surprise: "Why are you here?"
At the same time, he waved to Harry.
Ian Remy and others on the side were also smiling.
When Harry was at Kamar Taj, his mentor Lockhart had once given him the idea of joining Kamar Taj.
Although Harry finally chose to return to Hogwarts.
But Wanda and others still believe that Harry will eventually return to Kamar Taj and become their companion.
Not because of the invitation from his mentor Lockhart.
But because
They firmly believe that Kamar Taj is the future of the wizarding world!
This is the future, and neither the Dark Lord nor the White Lord, nor the Ministry of Magic, nor Hogwarts can stop this trend from coming.
Harry, in the end, will only enter Kamar Taj and follow them into the new world.
As for Harry's refusal of the mentor's invitation, is there any disgust or anything like that?
There was definitely some surprise, not to mention disgust.
They are not ordinary little wizards, with the resources they enjoy.
Even if you are an idiot, you can become a smart person just by drinking the magic potion.
Not to mention their teachers are all top leaders in various fields.
Being trained by a righteous hero like Steve, will his character deteriorate?
Being taught by a top agent like Carter, will your EQ and IQ be lower?
Will being trained by a powerful wizard like Snape make him less alert in battle?
Will my learning and research skills be poor if I am taught by a famous teacher like Lockhart through words and deeds?
The resources they enjoy, even Kamar Taj in the Marvel world, are considered first-class, even top-notch.
Their talents are not bad, and Lockhart has trained them to be all-round talents and pillars.
If you feel repulsed and disgusted because of such a trivial matter, then you are looking down on them.
"Hello, Wanda."
After a slight hesitation, Harry led Hermione and Ron to the bar and replied to Wanda.
What's more, Wanda was very nice to him when Kamar Taj was there.
Not only did she take him to various places in Kamar Taj, she also took him to explore the world of dreams.
At this moment, Hermione saw the red-haired witch Wanda, who was taller than herself and very beautiful.
For some reason, a sense of vigilance suddenly emerged in my heart.
It was as if his own territory was being challenged.
"Hello, I am Harry's good friend, Hermione Granger. Just call me Hermione." Hermione took Ron aside and introduced: "He is Ron Wesly, and we are both Harry Best friend”
"Hello, Hermione and Ron." Wanda showed a gentle smile, and then introduced the four of them, Ian.
After the introduction, he turned his attention to Credence, hesitated for a moment, and introduced: "This is Credence."
"He is also the owner of this bar."
the bar belongs to Abforth, so his son should also be the owner of the Hog’s Head Bar.
On the side, after hearing this, Aberforth stroked his beard and smiled.
It seemed that he was very satisfied with what Wanda said.
Of course he liked his son's inheritance of the Hog’s Head Bar very much.
But he also knew in his heart that this matter was probably impossible.
Credence is over 60 years old and has experienced as much as him. How can he want to take this place?
Although he didn't know what Credence was doing now, he was definitely better than him.
"Hello, Harry Potter!" Credence stretched out his hand towards Harry politely and said at the same time: "I am from the United States, entrusted by Dumbledore, to come to Hogwarts to teach you some control over yourself. of magic.”
Yes, when Lockhart introduced Harry's current state to McGonagall, McGonagall naturally reported it to Dumbledore.
How Harry was affected by Voldemort's soul, or even when the two merged.
Dumbledore could not help but think of Obscurus.
After all, it was difficult for Dumbledore to think of how to make a child fully accept the negative emotions accumulated by the Dark Lord's killings and evil deeds for many years.
Although there will be rapid progress in all aspects such as strength,
But if an Obscurus situation occurs, it will be really bad.
Therefore, he asked Credence, who was an Obscurus and could control his own condition, to come and teach Harry..
Of course, even though the two were related, he also gave something that satisfied Credence - the library of Hogwarts and some precious clues.
"Hello... Mr. Credence." Although Harry was a little repelled when he heard it was Dumbledore, he shook his hand gently and said hello simply.
Yes, Voldemort disliked Lockhart, but he also disliked Dumbledore.
Harry would naturally be affected, but for some reason, he was just a little repelled and indifferent.
Far from being disgusted enough to want to escape like Kamar Taj and Lockhart.
Well, Harry already occupies the protagonist's position in the trajectory of destiny, and the miracle of soul fusion in the previous period and world consciousness have invested a lot in it.
During this period, Lockhart used the dream world of Kamar Taj to stir up troubles in the dream of the world and steal the origin.
What do you think world consciousness will do?
Harry was just disgusted and wanted to escape. There was already the element of Harry worshiping Lockhart before.
Otherwise, he would have taken action long ago.
You must know that Harry, who has merged with the fragments of Voldemort's soul, is already stronger than before.
Otherwise Dumbledore would not have let Credence come to Hogwarts to serve as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and teach Harry!
Yes, Credence Barebone, aka Aurelius Dumbledore.
Currently serves as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.
