Hogwarts: Don't call me the Staff Maker

Chapter 714 The Sword of Gryffindor

Chapter 714 The Sword of Gryffindor

That's strange.

Sirius looked at Snape and Dumbledore, who were behaving unusually, and raised an eyebrow curiously.

Logically speaking, Snape should have been one of the people who most wanted Dumbledore to completely remove the curse. Before today, he had asked Shiron more than once when the unicorn's soul could be summoned again.

However, because he had promised Dumbledore, Siren kept making excuses to postpone it.

But now that Dumbledore has finally come to his senses and decided to completely remove the final curse, Snape seems reluctant again.

Unfortunately, neither of the two people present seemed inclined to explain the matter to him.

"Believe me, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I know what I'm doing, and I know it's the right thing to do, all for the sake of victory."

"Yes, of course I believe it," Snape said, but with a mocking sneer on his face.

However, he didn't say anything after that, he just slammed the bottle containing the potion on the table.

A dull thud came from the table, and Xiren instinctively worried that he might have broken the bottle—fortunately, the glass bottles in the potions office were all very sturdy, and that didn't happen.

What happened next was much simpler. Dumbledore calmly drank the potion, and milky-white, ghost-like spirits appeared around his body.

However, compared to last time, his soul was not perfectly repaired this time, and fine, shiny cracks could still be seen.

However, everyone present knew that this was already the limit.

His soul was forcibly torn apart twice. If it were anyone else, they would probably have fallen into a coma, or become like St. Mungo's Longbottom, confused and disoriented.

But Dumbledore not only did not fall into a coma, but he was also fully conscious, which was already quite remarkable.

Dumbledore was prepared to endure the pain once again.

When the unicorn passed through his body—well, this time Principal Phineas Black didn't shout that classic line again.

Because Dumbledore had the foresight to turn his portrait upside down beforehand, he's currently sitting under a windmill, sulking.

Dumbledore didn't want to do this either, but it wouldn't be good to let him do it.

After all, everyone in Hogwarts knows that he was "killed" twice by a student—and the news came directly from the headmaster's office, so it's absolutely true.

To preserve his last vestige of reputation, Dumbledore felt that this could not happen a third time.

Although he unsurprisingly fainted this time, Phineas, who wasn't deliberately causing trouble, and the other principals all knew what had happened, they just gathered around curiously to watch.

Perhaps he had gotten used to it, because this time Dumbledore woke up faster than the previous two times, slowly opening his eyes after only twenty minutes.

He looked with difficulty at his right hand—it had fully recovered, and there was no trace of charred blackness left.

"Truly remarkable magic," Dumbledore said softly. "Even knowing the answer beforehand, seeing it with one's own eyes is still incredibly astonishing—before this, I always thought that such a curse could not be removed by magic."

"Magic always brings miracles, Headmaster," Siren said. "You're the one who said that."

"Yes, magic always brings miracles." Dumbledore struggled to his feet from the cushion (which Snape had conjured with magic the moment he lost consciousness).

"I'll go get the potion," Snape said curtly, turning and leaving the headmaster's office.

"Professor, are you alright?" Siren asked, looking at him. "You don't look too good."

Having his soul torn apart three times, Dumbledore appeared to have aged considerably. His once beautiful silver-white hair and beard had become dull, withered, and seemed much thinner.

At this moment, Dumbledore didn't look like the universally acknowledged most powerful wizard and the chief wizard of the International Magical Federation at all. Instead, he looked more like an ordinary old man on his deathbed, whose life could be taken by any spell.

"No, Sirius—" Dumbledore shook his head slightly, but this simple action almost exhausted all his strength.

"I think I'm just fine as I am now," he said.

Why?

"Because I look very weak," Dumbledore said softly. "In fact, I am very weak, which is exactly what Tom wants to see."

"Oh, right, I also promised you something: when you turned the Horcrux into a wand, I would help you keep an eye on Tom—"

"Well—I'm not in a hurry," Xilun said.

Dumbledore's current appearance is utterly unconvincing. Even if Voldemort himself came, or even just a Death Eater, he could probably kill him with ease.

It's uncertain who will protect whom at that time.

"I may really need to rest for a few days," Dumbledore said.

"It's alright, Professor, I'm really not in a hurry," Siren said. "To be honest, I haven't found anything that can leave a mark on the locket yet, not even magic runes—"

Xilun was stunned before he could finish speaking.

I don't know if it's a coincidence, but just now the sun appeared outside the principal's office window, and sunlight shone in from outside, falling on something on the shelf.

It was a silver-white sword with a dazzling ruby ​​set in the hilt, gleaming brilliantly in the sunlight, making it impossible to look away.

"The sword of Gryffindor—" Siron whispered.

"Ah, yes, you're right." Dumbledore followed his gaze. "The most precious legacy left by Godric Gryffindor, only a true Gryffindor can draw it out to fight when needed."

The greatest wizard left behind a sword—what normal wizard would fight with a sword?

Xilun didn't ask the question, but instead thoughtfully stroked his chin.

"Principal, this sword is very sharp, isn't it?"

"Of course," said Dumbledore. "It's the goblins' prized creation, and they've always wanted it back, even though Godric Gryffindor has already paid for the sword."

"So, can it leave a mark on a Slytherin locket?" Siron asked again, this time with a noticeably more urgent tone.

"I haven't tried it," Dumbledore said, "but as far as I know, it should be possible. There's a book that says that over a thousand years ago, Godric Gryffindor once cut Salazar Slytherin's locket in two during a duel."

Xilun's eyes lit up.

"Professor, may I borrow that sword?"

Dumbledore was taken aback, seemingly not expecting Siren to make such a request.

"I have no objection," he said after a moment, "but as I just said, only a true Gryffindor can use it when needed."

"So, whether or not you can obtain and use Gryffindor's sword is not up to me, but up to you."

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