Chapter 209
Professor, what's wrong with you? "
Devereux's eyes widened and he looked at Dumbledore slowly walking towards the end of the corridor with shock on his face.
At this time, Dumbledore looked extremely embarrassed—no, it could even be said to be weird.
The left side of his body seemed to have been hollowed out by something, and half of his shirt hung limply on his body, as if hanging on an empty clothes hanger.
The hollow sleeves swayed slightly in the wind, which looked particularly dazzling.
What's even more heart-stopping is his face.
The face that was once full of wisdom and kindness was now missing an eye.
The eyes that were originally as bright as sapphires are now left alone staring forward, while on the other side is a dark void, which is chilling.
Devereaux's heart skipped a beat, and before he had time to think about it, he immediately stepped forward and tried to help the old principal.
"Professor, you need-"
"It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter."
Dumbledore smiled slightly, raised his remaining hand, and waved it gently to indicate that he did not need help.
His voice was still gentle, but there was a hint of exhaustion that could not be concealed.
"Having a discussion with an old friend,"
Dumbledore said calmly, as if this was just an ordinary afternoon tea conversation.
"A little injured."
When Devereaux heard this, he was stunned for a moment, and then the corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily.
He looked at Dumbledore's empty sleeves and damaged face, and couldn't help but complain in his heart.
What kind of sparring can cut off an arm?
Are you admirals?
But when the words came to his lips, he still swallowed them.
Dumbledore said this, obviously deliberately understating it, not wanting to make people worry.
But Devereux already had a guess in his mind. The "friend" who could make Dumbledore suffer such a heavy blow was obviously no ordinary wizard.
Eighty percent of them are Voldemort's helpers.
As for who it is, Devereux has some guesses.
After Devereux's eyes lingered on Dumbledore for a moment, he silently opened his system panel and checked the old principal's entry.
Generally speaking, there were no significant changes in Dumbledore's entries, but... Devereaux's eyes suddenly condensed.
He noticed that an important entry was missing——
【Elder Wand Holder】
Devereaux's heart sank. Countless possibilities flashed through his mind.
"What does this mean? Did...Dumbledore lose?"
But the facts before him made him puzzled.
Even after losing this entry, Dumbledore still stood firmly in front of him. Although he was scarred, his momentum was still as unshakable as a towering mountain peak.
Devereux took a deep breath and calmed down.
I don't know what to say at the moment.
At this time, Dumbledore slowly stretched out his remaining hand and took the golden cup imprisoned in the ball of light from Devero's hand.
"Well, you did a great job, Devereaux,"
Dumbledore smiled slightly, with approval in his tone.
"However, now is not the time. You cannot bear this power yet."
Devereaux's expression remained unchanged. He felt that Dumbledore had noticed something, so he smiled.
He was not afraid that Dumbledore would have any thoughts of harming him.
"Professor, when can I get this power?"
Dumbledore looked at him and smiled.
"The time is uncertain. If it's fast, it might be a month. If it's slow, it might be a year. If the reason is..."
Devereaux nodded.
"Professor, you don't have to say it, I believe in your arrangement."
When Dumbledore heard this, the smile in his eyes grew stronger.
He gently patted Devereaux on the shoulder, with a bit of relief and complexity in his eyes, as if he was looking at a junior who has not yet fully grown up, and as if he was looking at a person who is about to take on a heavy burden.
Dumbledore thought silently.
"You can use it when I leave."
But he never said it out loud.
At this time, Devereux took out the small ball containing Voldemort from his pocket and handed it to Dumbledore.
"What is this?" Dumbledore asked softly, with a hint of inquiry in his tone.
Devereux smiled and handed over the smooth ball. Dumbledore took it and looked at it carefully for a few seconds. Suddenly his eyes lit up and he seemed to understand something.
His expression gradually changed from surprise to shock, as if Devereux had done something unimaginable.
"Hahaha, my God, Devereux, you can actually do it to this extent, although I don't know how you managed to smash your body into pieces."
"This breath is like the breath of death...could it be..."
He looked at Devereux in surprise, and gently rubbed the surface of the ball with his fingertips, feeling the faint fluctuations of magic power emanating from it.
"The power of the God of Death! No...it's the reverse power! It's incredible. You can still maintain your sanity after using this level of power. You really exceeded my expectations, Devero."
Dumbledore laughed and shook his head, then seemed to notice something.
"Wait a minute...this magic...ancient magic...ah, that's it. Indeed, this makes sense."
He raised his head, his eyes falling softly on Devereaux, his tone full of sincere appreciation.
"Well, kid, you're really good. You're doing great. Those two things—"
He raised the small ball in his hand and the light ball containing the golden cup.
"I'll keep it in the principal's office for now. If you need it, just come to me anytime."
Deverot nodded, with a faint smile on his face.
He knew that Dumbledore's promises were always reliable.
Dumbledore stared at Deverot for a moment, a hint of ridicule flashed across his eyes, and his mouth slightly raised.
"Haha, so, our fourth generation Dark Lord, is he a werewolf now?"
Deverot was stunned for a moment, and then realized that in the whole conversation just now, he had been using mental magic to communicate with Dumbledore, and Dumbledore responded directly with words.
The communication between the two was so smooth and natural, as if this way of communication across mind and language was normal.
He scratched his head with his furry big paws with a little embarrassment, but still had a smile on his face.
"Professor, there is nothing we can do. The situation was urgent at the time, so we had to resort to this last resort. Haha, I have to thank our dear American professor for teaching me this method."
Unconsciously, Deveraux had become somewhat desensitized to being called the fourth generation Dark Lord by the principal.
A trace of trance flashed through Deveraux's mind, and he always felt that he seemed to have overlooked something important.
"Really? Then I really have to thank him. By the way, your friends should still be waiting for you, right?"
Dumbledore's voice was as gentle as usual, but with a hint of reminder.
Deveraux slapped his forehead suddenly, and then he remembered that Luna was still left in the room. She was still tied up!
