RNP Chapter 210 Rectification and Undercurrents
Chapter 210 Rectification and Undercurrents
Chapter 210 Rectification and Undercurrents (Bonus chapter for Yu Tuo Ji Ran's Alliance Leader!!!)
The heavy wooden door to the headmaster's office closed silently behind him, shutting out Dumbledore's deep blue eyes, which seemed to see through everything. Cullen stood at the top of the spiral staircase, not immediately descending.
Voldemort escaped. Bearing the scars of Fawkes's flames, like a venomous snake with a broken spine, he slithered back into the dark corners of the wizarding world to lick his wounds. Dumbledore's choice was to wait for Harry to grow up, to wait for the moment of their fated duel. Perhaps his past experiences had become a shackle, binding the hands and feet of the most powerful white wizard.
Cullen slowly descended the stairs, each step echoing softly on the cold stone. He understood Dumbledore's concerns, the strangeness of the Horcruxes, and the prophetic power of this world. But now that someone outside his story had entered this world, the story could no longer unfold as before. Waiting meant giving that viper a chance to breathe and retaliate. Voldemort had noticed him, sensed the threat. What would a madman with immortal abilities do when he regained his power in the shadows? Especially since Cullen wasn't alone.
Allowing threats to fester, gambling with present security for a "possible" future victory, is too costly. He can't afford to gamble.
They also didn't want to gamble.
Instead of returning to Ravenclaw Tower, he went to the Eagle's Nest. He pushed open the door, and the distinctive smell of the Eagle's Nest—a mixture of old parchment, magical materials, and a faint trace of dragon's blood treatment—was immediately upon him. Wesley and the others were probably still celebrating in the Great Hall or the common room.
This was the perfect place for him to reflect. He walked to the enormous alchemy workbench in the center, its surface still scattered with drafts left over from last night's work on the protective badges and several scraps of dragon hide used for testing. He waved his hand, clearing out an area.
He pulled over a high-backed chair and sat down.
Unconsciously, his fingers tapped lightly on the smooth, wood-grained tabletop.
Horcruxes—Voldemort's Achilles' heel, and also his reliance on "immortality." These include: the diary (in the Malfoys' house), the locket (in the Cavern of Absence in Black's old house), the diadem (in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts), the cup (in Lestrange's vault), the ring (in Gauntlet's old house), and Harry (a living Horcrux). Nagini is likely not yet a Horcrux; the Basilisk is probably Voldemort's newest creation. As for whether there are any newer ones, it's unlikely there will be any in the next two years. Voldemort has only recently created a new Horcrux, and his soul is injured; his priority is to hide and recover.
So what about the main soul? Where is Voldemort's main soul now, which was severely damaged and lost its stable host?
Cullen closed his eyes, his pupils shifting slightly beneath his eyelids, as if summoning the "Eye of Truth" to trace the unseen magical trails, though he knew it was impossible. Voldemort was suspicious, cunning, and utterly insecure. He wouldn't trust anyone, especially when he was so vulnerable. Those Death Eaters who had seemingly cleared their names or were lurking in the shadows? Cullen could almost picture Voldemort's disdain and wariness towards them—those opportunists who would immediately sever ties after his downfall, even turning against him. How could he entrust himself to them in his most vulnerable state?
The forests of Albania? That was where he lingered after his first defeat, but it was likely a place Dumbledore had been closely monitoring, and might not be safe. Some little-known, ancient ruins imbued with dark magic? Or—some dark creature possessed by a powerful, non-human being? Like when he tried to possess Quirrell, or even risked possessing the Basilisk?
Too few clues. Cullen opened her eyes, her brow furrowing slightly. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Given Voldemort's methods, given time, he could always find a way to hide and recover. Time was precisely what Cullen least wanted to give him.
Should he directly destroy the known Horcruxes? The thought flashed through his mind, but Cullen quickly suppressed it. It was too reckless, and the risk was extremely high. Aside from the fortifications of the Horcruxes' locations, more importantly, he wasn't sure if Voldemort's main spirit would sense the destruction once he began. Although the original work speculated that Voldemort might be unable to sense the destruction of other Horcruxes due to his numerous splits, Cullen didn't want to gamble. After all, he could obtain all the Horcruxes. If Voldemort sensed them, it would completely alert him, causing him to hide even deeper, and might even prompt him to take more extreme and unpredictable actions to regain his power.
Destroying a Horcrux rashly before you are certain you can lock onto and kill the main soul in one blow will do more harm than good. However, it is good for research purposes, as long as you do not destroy the Horcrux as much as possible. After all, there should only be one dark wizard in the magical world who can make so many Horcruxes.
He needed a way to directly locate the main soul. A "hound" capable of penetrating space and magical barriers to precisely find the wounded viper. Back at the Quidditch pitch, Cullen was alerted by the soul fragment in his hand—using the unbreakable soul connection between the fragment and the main soul? Resonance? Tracking? This idea had begun to take shape after he separated from Dumbledore in the Forbidden Zone.
As his thoughts gradually cleared, Karen's gaze fell upon the unassuming lead box on the workbench—sealed within were fragments of Voldemort's soul. Dangerous, but currently the only clue; after all, he truly didn't know Voldemort's whereabouts. He needed deeper knowledge of soul magic, the wisdom of Nico and Castor, and the ability to turn this "Resonance Tracker" concept into reality. A wave of fatigue washed over him, and he decided to rest first; these plans couldn't be solved overnight.
The next morning, the front page headline of the Daily Prophet was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, creating huge ripples in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
"Official statement from the Ministry of Magic: Rubeus Hagrid has been exonerated. The charges against him fifty years ago were a miscarriage of justice. His reputation and right to use his wand have been officially restored!"
Below the title is a photo of Minister Fouché's slightly stiff signature and a carefully worded but significant statement.
"Wow!" Lee Jordan was the first to jump up, nearly spilling his pumpkin juice. "Hagrid! He's innocent! But was he convicted before?"
"Hagrid was definitely framed anyway, it should have been done a long time ago!" Angelina loudly echoed.
The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, applause, and the clatter of cups and plates. Hagrid was their favorite gamekeeper, and although they didn't really know how he had been wrongly accused, the fact that he had been exonerated was cause for celebration.
The Hufflepuff table was equally enthusiastic. Cedric led the applause, a genuine smile on his face: "Excellent! Mr. Hagrid deserves this justice!" The Hufflepuffs were filled with affection for this kind, sometimes clumsy, but incredibly sincere half-giant.
They all nodded in agreement.
Ravenclaw's reaction was relatively rational. Penelope put down her newspaper and adjusted her glasses: "Logically, since the real culprit has already been confirmed as Mystic, exoneration is an inevitable outcome. It's just that it's been dragged on for fifty years, which is quite inefficient." Although she said this, there was a hint of relief on her face. The students around her discussed the details and significance of the statement in hushed tones, happy for Hagrid, but their emotions were not as outwardly expressed as those of the Gryffindors.
The Slytherin table was deathly silent, then erupted into undisguised sneers and sarcastic remarks.
"Hmph, what good is it for a half-giant to get his wand back?" Malfoy drawled, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. "Do you expect him to use that little stick to groom a troll? The Ministry of Magic is getting more and more decadent."
“Exactly,” Pansy Parkinson shrieked, wrinkling her nose dramatically. “Just think about the smell he had, and those disgusting creatures—rehabilitate him? What a joke.”
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry jumped to his feet, his face flushed with anger, his green eyes blazing with fury. "What right do you have to laugh at Hagrid? He's a hundred times better than any of you!"
"Oh? Saint Potter is going to uphold justice again?" Malfoy sneered. "What kind of spell has your giant friend cast on you? Or do you want to experience what it's like to be wrongly accused for fifty years?"
"At least Hagrid won't be like your father, rushing to distance himself as soon as Voldemort fell!" Ron stood up as well.
He glared at Malfoy.
"You're not allowed to slander my father, Weasley!" Malfoy's face flushed red. "You penniless wretch—"
"Enough!" Professor McGonagall's stern voice cracked like a whip, instantly freezing the tense atmosphere. She strode over, her gaze sweeping sternly over the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, for speaking disrespectfully to a school staff member who has just been rehabilitated, Slytherin loses ten points each! Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley..."
"A quarrel in public will result in a two-point deduction for each Gryffindor student! Now, sit down and eat quietly!" Her gaze fell warningly on Malfoy, who sat down resentfully, still muttering something silently.
Harry and Ron sat down as well, their chests heaving, but seeing Professor McGonagall's protective stance towards Hagrid made them feel much better. Hermione whispered beside them, "Ignore them. It's enough that Hagrid knows we support him."
Upon hearing the news, Karen and the others were happy for Hagrid. However, apart from Karen, none of them knew that Hagrid had suffered such a crime. They prepared for a whole morning and then carried a large basket to Hagrid's place. Inside were their carefully improved rock bread from Eagle's Nest, which contained a lot of honey, chopped nuts and raisins, as well as several bottles of butterbeer that Karen had ordered by owl. They headed towards Hagrid's cabin.
The door to the cabin was open, and Hagrid's massive figure blocked the entrance, his back to them, his shoulders slightly hunched. As they approached...
Karen saw that in Hagrid's large, fan-like hands, he was carefully holding a wand. It was a very ordinary-looking oak wand, even appearing somewhat short and miniature in Hagrid's hands. Hagrid's fingers gently caressed the smooth wood.
The movement was imbued with an indescribable sense of cherishing and trembling.
"Hagrid?" Karen called softly.
Hagrid whirled around, his eyes red and swollen, his face streaked with tears, but a huge, pure smile, like sunlight piercing through fifty years of gloom, burst forth. "Karen! Children! You've come! Come in! Come in!" His voice was loud but choked with emotion.
He carefully slipped his wand into a specially sewn inner pocket on the breast of his mole-skin coat, patted it, and then opened his arms to give Karen, who was closest to him, an almost suffocating bear hug, followed by Wesley, whose feet were lifted off the ground in the hug.
There was also Fabian, whose glasses almost fell askew, and Ernesto, who coughed twice after being patted on the shoulder.
"Look at this! Look!" Hagrid exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the pocket of his breast pocket and pressing it gently as if afraid of damaging it. "It's back! Merlin's beard! Professor Dumbledore fixed it for me this morning! He said—he said the Ministry of Magic—" He was so excited that he was almost incoherent, his immense joy making him like a child.
"We saw the newspaper, Hagrid! That's great!" Wesley said with a genuine smile, rubbing his sore shoulder.
"Congratulations, Mr. Hagrid," Fabian said with a smile, adjusting his glasses.
"Justice may be delayed, but it has never been absent." Ernesto's tone was Ravenclaw-esque sternness, but his eyes were warm.
"We brought some modified rock crust and butterbeer to celebrate!" Karen placed the basket on the table and lifted the lid.
The golden, tempting cakes, exuding the aroma of honey and nuts, and the bottle of beer that looked incredibly smooth.
"Oh! You good children!" Hagrid was so moved he was about to cry again. He picked up a piece of bread and took a big bite.
His eyes lit up. "Mmm! This is great! Much softer than what I make myself, and it smells wonderful!" He gulped down a large mouthful of beer, sighed contentedly, and then looked intently at Karen, lowering his voice with immense gratitude, "Karen—I know, this time it really all depends on you. If it weren't for your discovery, I might never have recovered—" He patted Karen's shoulder forcefully, so hard that Karen stumbled, "Thank you, child! Thank you so much!"
Karen steadied herself and smiled. "I just did what I had to do, Hagrid. We're all happy to see you get what's rightfully yours back."
Just then, footsteps sounded outside the hut. Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered.
"Hagrid! Congratulations!" Harry shouted first, a bright smile on his face.
"That's great, Hagrid!" Ron and Hermione congratulated him in unison.
The atmosphere in the hut grew even more lively. Harry saw that Cullen was there too and quickly walked over. His green eyes were filled with genuine gratitude, and a hint of subtle complexity—envy of Cullen's powerful abilities, and curiosity about his role in the various events of this term.
“Karen,” Harry said gratefully, “thank you. Hagrid is one of my best friends, and I didn’t even know he had gone through all this before.” He choked up and took a deep breath.
Cullen grasped Harry's hand and said calmly, "No need to thank me, Harry. Hagrid deserves this justice. And, like I told Hagrid, I just did what I thought was right." He paused, looking at Harry's young face, which already bore too much weight, and lowered his voice, offering a friendly reminder, "Enjoy this peace, Harry. The road ahead won't be smooth. You need to become stronger and stay vigilant. The real challenges may have just begun."
Harry paused, stunned. Cullen's words struck him like a stone, creating ripples in his heart. He didn't yet understand their meaning, but he could sense Cullen's kindness—a natural intuition. He nodded firmly. "I understand, Cullen. I will."
Hagrid was immersed in immense happiness, busily distributing "improved rock crust cakes" and butterbeer to everyone, filling the hut with laughter. Watching this heartwarming scene, Karen's plans regarding Horcruxes and Voldemort were temporarily dampened by the warmth. However, he knew this peace was fleeting. Leaving Hagrid's hut and returning to the castle, the lights of the Eagle's Nest and the unfinished tracker blueprints were already clearly etched into his mind.