Chapter 330 — Dumbledore's Surprise
It was outrageous.
Truly outrageous.
Dumbledore could never have imagined that everything stemmed from the elegant wand resting before him.
His fingers brushed the old wand hidden within his robes, and an odd smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"So," he said slowly, almost as if he were dreaming, "Voldemort did all this because of a newspaper report?"
"Yes," Arthur Weasley replied hastily. "I only realized it after receiving Ron's letter—The Quibbler."
"The content is… extremely imaginative."
"And my neighbor, Xenophilius Lovegood, happens to be its editor."
"That's why I've developed the habit of reading it from time to time."
Arthur and Lucius Malfoy had rushed over immediately after receiving the letters, choosing speed over replying to their sons.
Arthur glanced at Dumbledore.
"Th-then what exactly is this wand?"
"I bought it in Knockturn Alley," Lucius said coldly.
"But that's not the point." His gaze darkened as it fixed on the wand. "A mysterious wizard has now set his sights on my family. What happens if something happens to Draco?"
He stared at the Elder Wand with barely concealed hostility, as though he wished to swallow it whole.
Lucius Malfoy now hated it just as fiercely as he had once adored it.
Dumbledore pondered for a moment, then raised his wand.
With a flick, a black ceramic ballpoint pen flew neatly into Lucius's hand.
"Take this," Dumbledore said calmly. "If you press it, I'll know you're in danger."
Lucius immediately tucked it into his robes with extreme care.
"What is it?" Arthur asked curiously.
"The core is made from Fawkes's tail feather," Dumbledore explained.
"It's a one-time item. I'll sense it the moment it's activated."
"The magic of a phoenix," he added softly, "is the freest magic of all."
Fawkes ruffled his feathers irritably and pecked at his own back, somehow looking even balder than before.
At last, the mystery of why he entered nirvana so often seemed to have an explanation.
Arthur, watching from the side, adopted a look of utter innocence—as though he had seen and heard absolutely nothing.
"But should our next focus be Azkaban?" Arthur asked.
"According to Harry," Lucius replied, "Voldemort dealt with Azkaban first, then turned his attention to my family."
Even with Dumbledore's safeguard in hand, Lucius couldn't fully relax.
If Dumbledore arrived even a step too late, the cost would be unbearable.
Still, if Voldemort's first step toward resurgence was severed, the Malfoy family might remain safe.
"Don't worry about that, Arthur," Dumbledore said gently. "You've already done everything I asked."
"Yes," Arthur replied quickly.
"I've issued the decree. From now on, aside from Death Eaters and other extreme criminals, all prisoners will be sent to an isolated island near Ireland."
"Very good."
Dumbledore turned to Lucius.
"Do you know why I specifically asked you to bring the wand—and to hold it so openly when you arrived?"
He paused meaningfully.
"Don't you think someone is missing?"
Lucius considered it briefly.
"…Sirius?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"I see." Lucius smiled faintly. "Then there's one more thing I need to do."
"I'll leave the wand with you."
"And when I depart, I'll make sure to display barely restrained dissatisfaction—while leaving empty-handed."
Arthur scratched his head.
"I… don't understand."
"I knew you wouldn't," Lucius said smugly.
It was, in fact, their first real conversation since entering the room.
Since siding with Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy had somehow lost his old instinctive talent for criticizing Arthur Weasley—and Arthur seemed just as restrained in return.
Clearing his throat, Lucius continued more seriously.
"No one outside knows that Sirius has taken control of the Daily Prophet."
"I assume you want You-Know-Who to believe—through the paper—that the Elder Wand is in your possession."
"That way, my home remains safe."
"Sirius must already be acting on your orders," Lucius added confidently. "Otherwise, there's no way he wouldn't show up."
Arthur's eyes widened.
"That's right! How could Sirius stay calm when it concerns Harry? When we arrived, he was already gone!"
Dumbledore smiled faintly.
"The Daily Prophet will quietly circulate extra copies in Yorkshire. They'll appear in Muggle rubbish sites—without leaving any trace."
Arthur and Lucius spoke at the same time.
"Yorkshire?"
"To be precise," Dumbledore corrected, "Rotherham."
"Based on Harry's and Lucius's letters, we've confirmed the wizard who sold the alchemical item—and his location."
"The oldest structure there, Rotherham Cathedral, is where Voldemort died once more."
"And since he survived…"
"He should still be nearby."
"Like a snake."
Dumbledore rose and gazed toward the north.
"Then should we move?" Arthur asked urgently.
"I can dispatch Aurors immediately!"
"No need," Dumbledore replied.
"In his current state, Voldemort cannot be captured."
"And more importantly—there is another wizard there."
"A very dangerous one."
"Neither Ron's nor Draco's letters mentioned his appearance or name," Dumbledore continued.
"Because Harry hadn't dreamed of him at the time."
"But while writing to Sirius…"
"Harry remembered the name."
"Chronos."
A name that should have died long ago.
"And yet—"
"He lives."
Dumbledore's eyes sharpened.
Myths and legends were an inseparable part of wizarding magic.
Spells were born from ancient stories, refined and reshaped through countless generations.
But not all myths could be invoked.
Only the names of dead gods could be spoken safely.
As for those whose death was uncertain—or whose existence might continue—those stories were either erased through large-scale Memory Charms…
…or quietly abandoned, left to circulate among Muggles.
Because to speak the name of a god who still lived was to act as a beacon.
And power would answer.
Curses followed—blood curses among them.
Chronos, the god of time, was supposed to be dead.
Even the Time-Turner borrowed only fragments of His authority.
Yet now—
The power behind that name had stirred.
An American wizard stepping onto the moon.
Resurrected gods.
Voldemort's escape.
Everything astonished Dumbledore.
Yes.
Astonishment.
For the first time in many years—
He felt alive again.
(End of Chapter)
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