Mysterious Journey

Chapter 1012: The Witch's Little Thoughts

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Tower and I temporarily swapped identities this morning."

"No one here is interested in your apology, Professor Dumbledore—"

Eileen raised an eyebrow, tapping her small leather shoe impatiently on the carpet in front of the headmaster's office, and said gently.

"What we all want to know is the necessity of this, and what kind of family joys the two of you enjoyed during the identity swap, and why this happened. If I remember correctly, this isn't the first time, is it? Do the two of you think... you're being humorous?"

For a long time, Newt tried to avoid Eileen as much as possible, minimizing his interactions with the young succubus.

However, today's situation was obviously special.

Just as only magical creatures can truly defeat magical creatures, similarly, only a Dark Lord can deal with a Dark Lord.

After returning from the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets, an enraged Newt Scamander didn't hesitate to board the Hyperion, proactively seeking an alliance with the Third Generation Dark Lord, and even dragged in Nicolas Flamel and Lockhart, who were equally kept in the dark, marching menacingly towards the headmaster's office, ready to demand an explanation—as for the three probationary Great Arcana, Eileen simply brought them along for some pre-job political education.

"Oh, that's what I've been wanting to know too, Albus."

Nicolas Flamel said calmly, his gaze directed at the two "young people" who had just passed their hundredth birthday not long ago.

In his memory, Dumbledore and Grindelwald used to be quite playful, but that was all half a century ago.

You know, just now in the Hogwarts Great Hall, he had been focused on "Abo-Ocalypse" professor, fearing that bad news would come from the chamber below while the First Generation Dark Lord, freed from his restraints and his best friend, would suddenly go mad and drag everyone down with him.

For an old wizard who had just celebrated his 666th birthday this year, such startling emotions were really terrible.

"Uh, so, what exactly happened—"

Lockhart looked at the tense Great Arcana in the room, bewildered.

Dumbledore looked up, glanced at Grindelwald standing by the bookshelf with his hands in his pockets, and hesitated for a moment.

Then, he shook his head helplessly and began to explain softly.

"This morning, I mean, perhaps before breakfast, I suddenly realized a very important thing, that coordinating multiple spellcasters and dealing with magical creatures is not my forte—more importantly, I might hesitate."

"No, you're lying."

Eileen said, narrowing her eyes, suddenly looking at the old wizard standing to the side.

A strange, very strong anger surged in her heart, and she instantly realized the source of her anger.

"These are your words, aren't they? Respected, clever, brave Apocalypse professor?"

Dumbledore wasn't the type to avoid things, especially in a place where there might be a life-threatening situation.

In Eileen's original plan, Dumbledore was supposed to face the basilisk, while Grindelwald was to coordinate the Hyperion above in a large-scale extermination battle. The result of this kind of identity swap was likely only something the cunning First Generation Dark Lord could instigate.

"See, Albus?"

Grindelwald grinned, raising an eyebrow triumphantly, "Never try to fool this child a second time. See, she's angry, she's really angry this time. She hates things being out of control and beyond expectations, just like you and me. I told you, you couldn't help me take the blame for this—"

"Alright, Professor Apocalypse," Dumbledore said.

He leaned back, interrupting Grindelwald's analysis impatiently, and glared at him.

"I understand. Then you explain it, the all-calculating Professor Apocalypse."

Dumbledore said unhappily.

From the start, Dumbledore thought this idea was terrible.

If it wasn't for this guy threatening and implying things in various ways since last night, Dumbledore wouldn't have agreed to swap identities.

After all, both of them knew that the attacker at the bottom of the chamber was the most dangerous part.

More importantly, if Grindelwald hadn't provoked and played with poor Newt at the last moment, this identity swap could have successfully deceived everyone, instead of being forced to explain things here—it was the first time in so many years that he had been exposed by a student.

"Our previous plan wasn't the optimal solution, was it, Miss Fool?"

Grindelwald shrugged, wiggling his fingers as he said, "Obviously… you used some childish tricks in the personnel arrangements. You certainly knew I was more suitable to direct the hunt at the bottom of the chamber, and more suitable to be the one sacrificed, but you pretended to forget that."

"As for the reason, let me think—"

Grindelwald pretended to ponder for two or three seconds, smacked his hand, and looked at Eileen in surprise.

"Oh, my goodness, are you worried about my safety? Miss Kaslana wouldn't really be treating me like her grandfather, would she?"

Eileen stared at Grindelwald expressionlessly, watching the old man's clumsy acting, and felt a certain anger surging and burning inside her, just because of a certain Dark Lord's lack of gratitude, and his understated, seemingly casual performance and explanation.

"Worried about your safety? What are you talking about?"

Eileen said, her voice slightly higher than usual, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

"Professor Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts. Counting his time as a student, he's lived in this castle for almost a hundred years. He's obviously more suitable to lead the team in exploring and hunting in the narrow, hidden chamber beneath the castle. If you die down there, what about all those old guys outside? From Salzburg to Hyperion, from Moscow to the Succubus Capital, can you guys think a little further ahead before sacrificing each other?"

"Okay, then I'll ask you a simple question," Grindelwald said calmly.

"If it was Albus who died down there, not me, have you thought about the future plans for Hogwarts?"

"Of course, Professor McGonagall, as the deputy headmaster, will take over Professor Dumbledore's current position."

Eileen answered without thinking, her lake-blue eyes staring straight at the old Dark Lord.

"Hmm, what about the incredibly important position of 'Pope'?"

Grindelwald grinned, casually picking at the dirt in his fingernails, and continued to ask calmly.

"Leaving aside how to absorb and persuade Minerva McGonagall to join the Great Arcana, what about the voices from the International Confederation of Wizards, the influence from the Ministry of Magic, the educational reforms after Hogwarts, and the maintenance of relationships with merpeople, werewolves, and centaurs? Who will take over?"

"Don't—use—questions—to answer—questions—a saint who's lost their spiritual leader is more troublesome than all of that..."

Eileen's expression faltered slightly, and she said sternly, as if squeezing the words out from between her teeth.

"Alright," Grindelwald shrugged helplessly, "Then I'll answer your previous question first—those foolish, stubborn old guys will either go back to their respective homes and reopen their shops or live in seclusion in the non-magical world, or continue to collect their salaries from Destiny Corporation—as the Goblin Queen of Gringotts, the eldest daughter of Destiny Corporation, Miss Theresa Apocalypse can handle all of this, right?"

"Besides, from the results, it's obviously more suitable for me to play Dumbledore, to transition and deal with the Ministry of Magic officials..."

Grindelwald said calmly, pointing to the floor below, calmly stating the facts.

As soon as the news of the successful basilisk hunt reached the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge and a group of Ministry officials finished the pile of "extremely thorny and complex work" in their hands in almost half an hour, and came to Hogwarts Castle with the reporters who had heard the news.

When Cornelius arrived, the search in the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets had just ended a few minutes ago.

In the dilapidated, chaotic stone hall, the basilisk's fishy black blood was splattered everywhere. The basilisk's headless body lay limply in the jumbled marble thorn traps, its green-glowing scales covered in scars, all telling of the fierceness of the previous battle.

Hogwarts naturally enjoyed the right to dispose of the basilisk's body, after all, it was Salazar Slytherin's legacy.

However, as Minister of Magic, it wasn't a problem to pose for a few photos.

Even "Dumbledore" was willing to guide and supplement a few angles to make sure every Ministry of Magic official's publicity still looked realistic.

And for Cornelius Fudge and others, this was the gift they wanted most—to announce this good news to the entire magical world in the next day's *Daily Prophet*: under their efforts, the Ministry of Magic had completely solved the monster in Hogwarts that threatened the lives of students.

Obviously, if it hadn't been for Grindelwald playing Dumbledore, the scene wouldn't have been so harmonious.

"In short, Miss Fool, your strategic vision is very trustworthy, but—you're obviously not objective enough in certain areas. At least in this matter, you don't have enough reasons to convince us, right? Explanation complete. Is there anything else you don't understand?"

Grindelwald said softly in a steady tone, his gaze falling on the little girl who was angry but unable to lash out.

"Today is Christmas, as the head chef of Hogwarts, aren't you going to go to the kitchen to keep an eye on things?"

"Christmas... dinner?"

Eileen raised an eyebrow and said slowly.

"Thank you for the reminder. You and Professor Dumbledore must—"

"Hmm, don't worry. Tonight, there won't be any distinction between professors, students, or outsiders, the Ministry's Aurors, as well as Ministry officials, reporters, and the professors who are returning to school one after another, everyone will sit at the long table together and enjoy Hogwarts' sumptuous Christmas dinner."

Grindelwald grinned and said, his fingers drawing a small arc in the air.

"Unfortunately, dear Miss Fool, and the three probationary Great Arcana, you may have to endure a little longer and return to the Hyperion or stay quietly in the kitchen, or in your dormitories, and not wander around the castle—after all, the hunt isn't over yet. You'll have to wait until the Ministry of Magic officials leave before you can enjoy your Christmas vacation in the castle."

"Cough, speaking of which, it's almost time, isn't it?"

Grindelwald cleared his throat and took out a pocket watch from his pocket to take a look.

Then, he drew his wand and tapped it on the fireplace in the headmaster's office, throwing in some floo powder.

The flames instantly surged, turning into pale green magical flames.

"Oh, and one more thing..."

Just then, Dumbledore suddenly coughed softly and said slowly.

"Miss Kaslana, since tonight's Christmas banquet in the hall is attended by all adult wizards, I asked the kitchen to prepare some regular alcoholic beverages—but minors are not allowed to consume alcoholic beverages. Please don't make things difficult for the house-elves. I've prepared sweets for you..."

"Let's go, Hermione, Hannah, Luna. The Hogwarts kitchen—"

Before Dumbledore could finish speaking, Eileen puffed out her cheeks and glared hatefully at the two old wizards.

She turned around and walked straight towards the fireplace, dragging the little wings who were holding back their laughter behind her.

After all, she did have a tiny bit of personal thoughts in her personnel arrangements, and now she had a few feelings of being embarrassed into anger.

Since Old Potato was willing to sacrifice himself for Old Turnip, even going so far as to say it out loud to cut off Eileen's subsequent questioning, then she had no reason to continue standing here waiting for the situation to escalate further—anyway, she had plenty of time to take care of those two hundred-year-old wizards in their old age.

As for the remaining time, let Newt and Flamel go and demand justice and reason, it was all unrelated to her.

"N-no, Professor Dumbledore, your behavior is too..."

Watching "Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World" being angered away by Dumbledore and Grindelwald working together, Newt, who had been transparent since entering the door, opened his mouth somewhat awkwardly, subconsciously turning to look at Nicolas Flamel beside him, quickly giving him a look.

What are you waiting for? Say something!

Nicolas Flamel's gaze swept over the black and white Dark Lord duo not far away, and the corner of his eye couldn't help but twitch.

He wasn't a young and energetic, lively and adorable Veela hybrid. As the longest-lived wizard in the magical world today, one of the secrets to his longevity was to not always be angry and to learn how to reconcile with the world. Of course, he wouldn't suddenly think about making trouble at this time.

Nicolas Flamel pondered for two seconds and said tremblingly in Newt's expectant gaze.

"Cough, cough. Don't do that again. At least tell us in advance."

"..."

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

The headmaster's office suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

Newt's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he couldn't say it.

"Alright, Newt, you have to forgive me—someone has to keep an eye on 'Tower'. Think about it, if we really encountered any dangerous situations underground, wouldn't the wizard lineup responsible for assisting you above be much more stable if I were there? It can't be helped."

Dumbledore stood up and walked over, patting Newt's shoulder gently and sincerely.

"As for keeping it from you before, wasn't that also because I was worried you'd overthink things? If something unexpected happened, I'd regret it for the rest of my life."

"Humph—"

Not far away, Grindelwald made a soft humming sound.

It sounded like an echo, or perhaps a somewhat disdainful snort.

"This is the last time—Dumbledore, I'm serious, absolutely no joking!"

Newt Scamander said seriously and unhappily, involuntarily being pushed towards the door by Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore! If there's a second time, I'll pack my bags and leave immediately! You have to swear! I'm serious this time. I'm not the impulsive youth I was decades ago, Dumbledore, don't even think about it this time—"

"Alright, alright, we have to deal with those bureaucrats from the Ministry of Magic..."

"Don't fob me off with the Christmas banquet—"

"Oh, and I also notified Tina, she should be arriving soon. It's a rare Christmas, relax a bit."

"T-Tina? Wait, you didn't tell her about me going to the chamber, did you?"

"Well, no, but it's possible that the Ministry of Magic and the reporters will—"

"Dumbledore! Oh, no—you can't do this!"

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Yay!