"Get that thing away from me, quick!" The person in the portrait screamed, feeling a primal fear, since the components of the portrait were all flammable. eight ? ?
"You're feeding your broken bird here again. One day I'm going to complain that your behavior is damaging the Hogwarts Headmaster's office! And showing disrespect to the portraits of past headmasters!" Phineas was furious, but helpless, because he was just a portrait now, unable to do more than deliver messages.
This was one of the costs of seeming 'eternal.'
Fawkes, curled up on his perch, immediately perked up when he saw the flame. He spread his wings and pounced on his food. The flame wasn't too big; he swallowed the whole thing with a slight opening of his beak, then exhaled some smoky ash and let out a satisfied burp. Then he flew back to the shelf, squinted, and began to sleep.
"I didn't have pets like that when I was in office," Phineas said with a sour look, then straightened up, abandoning his previous casual demeanor. "Dumbledore, have you noticed anything lately..."
"If you're asking about your descendant, he recently infiltrated Hogwarts, causing quite a stir," Dumbledore said, as if knowing the question in his mind, giving the answer in advance.
"I've said many times, the Black family can't produce a coward. My descendant wouldn't be a traitor. His escape proves his innocence. The people of the Black family never evade responsibility after making mistakes!" Phineas said sonorously, it was hard to imagine a painting doing so with such vigor.
Even though Black had announced his disownment from the family, in the old man's eyes he was still just a slightly rebellious descendant.
"If, and I mean if, he can be caught by me or another teacher, then at the Wizengamot, I will ensure he receives a fair trial." Dumbledore didn't want to express his opinion on Sirius's innocence or guilt, although his intuition told him something was fishy. He had some doubts in his heart about arresting Sirius and throwing him into Azkaban without a trial back then, but if Sirius was really innocent, how could he explain his manic laughter at the scene of the explosion and his twelve years in Azkaban?
At least for now, he couldn't find a reason to convince himself why an innocent man had never cried out for justice.
"Dumbledore..." Phineas wanted to continue arguing about the issue, but stopped abruptly, revealing a playful smile: "That descendant I admire is here. What do you say, should we let him in?"
A knock sounded at the door.
"An educator rarely refuses a student's request for a meeting."
Dumbledore glanced at the portrait and then said to the door in a warm voice, "The password is 'Licorice Snap,' come in."
The door opened, and Malfoy quickly bypassed the exquisite silverware that was puffing smoke, coming directly to Dumbledore's desk.
"Child, have you encountered any problems?" Dumbledore asked kindly, as if facing any ordinary student, but a dark tide gradually surged in his heart.
He clearly knew that the student in front of him was full of wariness towards him, and showed unusual learning ability and intelligence compared to most students.
He hadn't expected that a student could learn Occlumency in their first year.
This was also one of the main reasons for his miscalculation.
A misunderstanding perhaps caused an indelible animosity.
Apart from that one urgent exception last year, Dumbledore had never actively probed any student's memory.
When he first met this little fellow, he only wanted to roughly understand the child's thoughts at the time.
After all, Malfoy had taken the Philosopher's Stone away, and he needed to know something deeper no matter what. He wouldn't casually probe the memory of an ordinary student. Since the students respectfully called him Headmaster, he naturally had to live up to that trust.
He only hoped to obtain some signs of emotion. He was still thinking about whether all of this could have been prevented if he had paid more attention to Tom Riddle back then and noticed his hatred and greed.
But he, who had no intention of probing deeper, was fiercely counterattacked, and was unexpectedly affected by a hallucination when he was completely unprepared.
No one can remain calm after witnessing their own death.
Even if he is Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard of today or history.
Of course, he trusted Snape as always. He believed it was just a hallucination, even if that scene seemed undeniably real.
As for now, Dumbledore was starting to trust the boy in front of him more and more.
Because not long ago, he had seen Pansy's Patronus on the Quidditch pitch, which surprised him immensely.
This was the best proof that the students staying by his side were gradually changing, and in a good direction. Otherwise, with that girl's family background and her parents' influence, she might never have had the chance to cast a Patronus Charm in her life.
Moreover, Malfoy had proved his position during the Chamber of Secrets incident last year. Malfoy's last words before fainting had also troubled him for a long time. Finally, he vaguely guessed the boy's intentions and decided to violate his principles.
Everyone hates lies, but sometimes, they are a necessary means.
As for now, he could only try his best to mend their relationship. He couldn't be too enthusiastic, as that would only arouse the student's suspicion. All he could do was treat the student with a normal heart and let the rift disappear over time.
Unfortunately, his normal heart didn't last long.
"I can solve the problem of those Dementors," Malfoy said slowly, but the words he spoke were shocking.
"Hmm?" Dumbledore's silvery-white eyebrows rose high, as if he had heard something astonishing. Of course, the matter itself was indeed worthy of astonishment.
He put his fingertips together and fell into thought.
After a long while, he adjusted his half-moon spectacles and said, "You always manage to surprise me, Draco. So please, can you tell me the method? And what do I need to do?"
Malfoy was about to speak, but was inadvertently interrupted by Dumbledore's smiling words: "Oh, don't tell me to personally take out the Dementors' nest. Otherwise, maybe tomorrow's headline in the Daily Prophet won't be the collective disappearance of the Dementors, but that this old man is unemployed."
"Besides, that's too tiring. There are quite a few Dementors in Azkaban. You can sympathize with an old man, right?" Dumbledore now tried to make his expression serious, making the joke he just made even more comical.
Sometimes being childlike isn't really a compliment.
"What I'm talking about is solving the problem of Dementors, not the Dementors themselves." Malfoy's eyes narrowed. He knew that this old man, whose mental age had suddenly plummeted, was joking with him, but he still had to patiently explain, indulging his dark humor.
Dumbledore was a necessary link for him to solve the Dementor problem, and it was also another action he took to show his position.
"If you are really willing to help me, then in the following time, your identity will temporarily become a bodyguard, a witness, and an Auror. Oh, right, and my supervisor, if you don't trust me."
"That would be a great honor!" Dumbledore blinked, said happily, deliberately ignoring Malfoy's somewhat dissatisfied words.
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Fallen streets, dirty streets. Prosperous streets, noisy streets.
The night was like water, and the orange lights intertwined with the greasy rouge, exuding an ambiguous atmosphere. The colorful neon lights of the hotels on both sides of the street were dazzling. This is a paradise for the rich, whether they are wealthy, powerful, decadent, or dissolute. They can all choose to spend their boring time on this street and comfort their empty flesh.
Beneath the glamour lies sin and cruelty.
Gangs, gunfights. Women, .
In the depths of a certain hotel, there may even be power and money transactions that are even more difficult to imagine.
Compared with the extravagant and drunken revelry of these gold-selling caves, the dilapidation and decline of the nearby blocks seem even more ironic.
More people struggling below the poverty line can only do the most humble jobs or even illegal activities to maintain their lives, such as theft, pimping, or even more sinful ways to maintain their livelihoods.
Who can see the darkness under the prosperity?
And today, this street that never sleeps seems to have welcomed a strange guest.
Because he is a bit young.
"Little brother, this is not a place for you to come." A heavily made-up woman greeted him, dressed extremely revealingly. If you wanted to, you could see a glimpse of her white and greasy chest at any time.
Malfoy didn't look sideways, just walked forward on his own.
"Ah, I didn't expect you to be quite handsome." The woman leaned closer, carefully looking him up and down. Light gold hair, gray pupils, and slightly thin cheeks all fit the public's aesthetic. Plus the seemingly expensive clothes and slender figure, all of this made her heart flutter.
Trying out a young and fresh guy shouldn't be a problem, right? Even if he doesn't pay, I'll still be making a profit. And judging by his appearance, this boy has a lot of temperament, maybe he's a fat sheep.
Thinking of this, her eyes narrowed, revealing a common dissolute smile, and she fiddled with her somewhat rustic gold earrings, preparing to use her soliciting skills on this underage boy.
"Oh ho ho, you're so sweet, how about I call you sweetheart?"
"Big sister can take you to do many interesting things, oh."
The passers-by all looked blankly at the woman teasing a street lamp, and besides being surprised, they also felt a little interesting, and couldn't help but applaud.
"The competition for streetwalkers is too fierce now, they're even forced to practice soliciting customers to street lamps, but this spirit is still quite dedicated." This is what the masses thought in their hearts.
After about a few more minutes, the woman woke up from her intoxicated appearance, looked at the surrounding crowd, and her face turned pale and red.
Was she just bewitched? Flirting with a street lamp?
Now she could clearly see that there was a somewhat old street lamp above her head, emitting an orange-yellow halo, shining straight on her face. The originally gentle tone now felt particularly dazzling to her.
Besides being sad, her pungent side was revealed again.
"What are you looking at? Haven't you seen a street romance before?" The woman said fiercely, scaring a group of people on the street away like birds and beasts.
Malfoy never expected that his casual confundus charm would bring so many episodes, but even if he knew, he wouldn't care.
He has more important things to do now.
For example, keeping an appointment.
Walking past the brightly lit streets, the surrounding prosperous districts were filled with desolate areas, abandoned factories, and old buildings, all indicating the desolation and desolation of this place, which was in stark contrast to the brightly lit lights in the distance, giving people a sense of deformed incongruity.
Malfoy seemed to casually stop in front of a building, stopped his steps, and then slowly walked towards the stairwell, climbing the stairs one by one. His goal was the top floor.
"You've come." In the stairwell, an old man, tall and thin, stood outside the iron gate. His long silver hair and beard looked particularly conspicuous in the dim environment. The old man was looking at him with a complex expression.
"No one escaped, right?" Malfoy asked.
"Of course." Dumbledore nodded slightly, appearing very calm.
But this was only on the surface. His heart hadn't been stirred up like today for a long time, to the point of causing a monstrous wave. The last time his heart fluctuated so much was probably when the current Voldemort hadn't completely died.
Today, he and this student had done too many shocking things together.
For example, he was a witness once.
As a highly respected senior in the wizarding world, he had witnessed many oaths. Wizards used various spells to restrain each other's behavior and reach agreements. He had been a swearer and had also served as too many witnesses, but the testimony not long ago made him feel chills in his heart.
"I can guarantee to provide endless food and habitat for your clan. Can you guarantee to restrain your clansmen from attacking Muggles or wizards other than those I provide in the future?"
"I..... am..... willing." In the dark room, Malfoy stood in the empty center, and opposite him was floating a Dementor. The same hood, cloak, scabbed palms, and the cold aura that emanated at any time. The difference was that his figure was larger than other Dementors. After hearing the first oath, he slowly responded, not knowing where his voice came from, because he had no facial features. The only thing he knew was that his voice was full of emptiness and nothingness, echoing throughout the room.
Dumbledore also stood beside the two, silently watching, without saying a word. (To be continued.)
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