Chapter 1335 Only Dumbledore knows the core secret?
Tonight, the Scottish Highlands sky is devoid of stars, only covered by thick clouds.
Suddenly, something tore through the clouds, and a phantom hovered silently atop the highest tower of Hogwarts Castle.
The cockpit canopy of the Night Voice opened, and Vincent leaped down, landing on the windowsill extending from the principal's office.
Without any spellcasting gestures or incantations, the tightly closed windows opened automatically, as if welcoming his arrival.
The warm tranquility of the principal's office was abruptly shattered. The flames in the fireplace suddenly dimmed, and the portraits of past principals were startled awake from their slumber or deep thought, staring in astonishment at the uninvited intruder.
Fox, perched on a branch, raised its little head, glanced at Vincent, let out a lazy chirp, and then buried its head back under its wing, seemingly quite used to this kind of intrusion.
Dumbledore was sitting behind a round table, with a thick book open in front of him and a steaming cup of honey tea beside him.
He put down his quill, looked up, and calmly looked at Vincent.
"Good evening, Vincent." Dumbledore's voice remained gentle, as if he were addressing a student who always played pranks in the middle of the night, rather than a wanted Dark Lord. "You are as... modest as ever."
Without saying a word, Vincent went straight to the round table and sat down opposite him.
Dumbledore sighed, took off his half-moon glasses, and wiped them with his pajama sleeve. "So, for you to drive that scary thing straight down from the sky and crash into here, something really serious must have happened."
“Hermione stumbled upon something tonight.” Vincent didn’t waste any words, recounting Hermione’s discoveries and deductions, focusing on the Malfoys being coerced by Voldemort.
Dumbledore's expression grew increasingly serious. He leaned forward slightly, put his glasses aside, and placed his fingers interlaced on the table. "Tom always enjoys this kind of ingenious and vicious torture."
Vincent straightened up slightly, the flames in the fireplace illuminating his profile, making it appear even more stern. "It's ironic that Voldemort treated this prophecy as something so important, going to such lengths, even resorting to such despicable means to coerce a student."
He turned his head, his gaze falling on the window, his tone carrying undisguised contempt: "A prophecy is a prophecy because it can reveal a certain possibility or inevitability."
The prophecy that Voldemort treasured was no longer a top secret. I know it, you know it, Snape knew part of it, and many others knew it. Only Voldemort remained trapped in the illusion that 'only Dumbledore possessed the core secret,' making himself and the Death Eaters look like a joke.
Dumbledore keenly noticed the unusual tone in Vincent's voice. This contempt wasn't entirely directed at Voldemort's stupidity; it seemed to also contain a sense of empathetic annoyance and a hint of deeply suppressed anger, which, in turn, wasn't entirely directed at Voldemort.
A startling guess flashed through Dumbledore's mind like lightning: "Vincent, could it be that you..."
Vincent withdrew his gaze and looked at Dumbledore, whose aged face showed an unusual expression of disbelief.
He didn't explain anything, he just remained silent.
And this silence itself is an answer.
Dumbledore's heart sank.
He guessed right; Vincent was likely a witness to a prophecy, or even the protagonist of one.
Only those who have personally experienced the feeling of being pulled by invisible threads, which, regardless of struggle, lead to a predetermined end, can develop such a complex attitude towards prophecy.
Dumbledore slowly regained his composure, but the turmoil within him did not subside.
After a brief silence, Vincent brought the topic back to reality: "Professor, since Voldemort wants it, and the prophecy itself has limited value, then tell the prophecy directly to Draco Malfoy, so that Voldemort can understand just how ridiculous his previous scheming was."
“But…” Dumbledore put his glasses back on, “Tom is too paranoid. We can’t predict what he will do after he knows the full prophecy. He may discard more of the emotions he considers useless, including his pride.”
In that case, Voldemort might use someone else, like Draco, to eliminate his nemesis.
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “Professor, this prophecy has two main characters. One is Voldemort, and the other is the nemesis he chooses to mark. It could be Harry, Henry, or Billy. It was all Voldemort’s own choice from beginning to end. He created Harry and made Harry the other main character of the prophecy.”
Dumbledore shook his head and sighed, "That's right, but the prophecy reveals that the two cannot coexist in this world, and we cannot be sure which one will survive."
Vincent understood Dumbledore's concerns, leaned forward slightly, and said with piercing eyes, "Professor, I gave the prophecy to Voldemort so that he would realize sooner that he was the one who caused all of this. If he wants to smash the stage prematurely because he has seen the last page of the script, then let him do it."
His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a thunderclap, exploding in Dumbledore's ears: "We can't control what a madman will do. What we can do is rebuild him a stage, a stage he can't smash even if he wants to."
A moment of astonishment flashed across Dumbledore's eyes. What he saw in this young man's eyes was not the youthful vigor of a boy, nor the tragic heroism of a martyr, but the calmness of a chess player.
Like him, Vincent also planned to give Voldemort a "farewell".
The most crucial arrangement is those Horcruxes.
Destroy all the Horcruxes without Voldemort's knowledge, and then comes the hardest step: ensuring that Harry can defeat or even kill Voldemort.
Dumbledore looked at Vincent with a complicated expression.
This young man is very opinionated and always manages to surprise people. The stage he prepares may not be better than his own, but it will definitely be more unexpected.
“Alright.” Dumbledore picked up his slightly chilled honey tea and gestured to Vincent. “I agree to give the prophecy to Tom, but I hope there will be fewer sacrifices. We have already lost far too much in this war.”
Vincent narrowed his eyes slightly. "Professor, I think you're the one who's becoming more and more like him. You were originally planning to sacrifice yourself, weren't you?"
This "he" certainly doesn't refer to Voldemort.
Dumbledore paused, a faint smile appearing on his aged face. "Is that so? That's quite true..."
Vincent raised an eyebrow again. "It seems I should leave. I'll have my men keep a close watch on everything that happens at Malfoy Manor."
He said no more, got up and left through the open window.
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