Douglas Holmes switched the Magic Detection Radar to a different mode, then carefully inserted the mithril probe into the ground.
Dumbledore watched with keen interest, his eyes fixed on the glowing display. "And what does this mode do, Douglas? I must say, your magical gadgets are always full of surprises."
Douglas was just about to explain when a three-dimensional black region materialized on the radar's screen.
He frowned. "There's an area beneath us, shielded by layers of Dark Magic. The deeper the black, the stronger the curse. I'd say we're in the right place."
Dumbledore nodded, then patted Douglas on the shoulder.
"Douglas, you've done more than enough for today. Leave the rest to me."
He paused, glancing at the radar. "You mentioned this device can pinpoint weak spots in area protection spells. Mind if I borrow it for a moment?"
Douglas slipped the Magic Detection Radar back into his pocket with practiced ease. He knew Dumbledore meant well, but there was only one radar, and truth be told, he didn't fully understand all its inner workings—he'd simply grafted this world's magic onto a framework borrowed from elsewhere. If Dumbledore ever took it apart, some questions would be impossible to answer.
Dumbledore caught the motion and let out a hearty laugh, not pressing the issue.
But then he noticed Douglas pulling out something that looked suspiciously like a Muggle grenade. Dumbledore's brow furrowed in curiosity.
"Douglas, I recognize that device—but surely you don't expect it to break through the protections Tom set up?"
Douglas grinned.
"This is a Dark Magic Nullification Bomb. It's packed with positive energy and a touch of the lightning magic I used earlier. When it detonates, it disables Dark Magic in the area.
If it's a static curse, the explosion will wipe it out. If you're fighting a Dark wizard, even if he isn't injured, his Dark Magic will be severely weakened for a full minute—maybe even rendered useless.
Best of all, whoever infuses it with magic can set the fuse to detonate at just the right moment."
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with amusement.
"And what exactly do you get up to in your spare time? A radar for ancient tombs, a bomb to erase Dark Magic… I'm beginning to worry about your hobbies."
Douglas put on a show of sincerity.
"Professor, you know my character—I'd never use these for anything shady. Besides, what ancient wizard's tomb in Britain would even tempt me?
Honestly, I made this as a birthday present for Bill—the eldest Weasley. You know he works in Egypt, breaking into ancient tombs. This prototype isn't perfect yet, but when I've refined it, I'll make a few extra—one for you, too."
Dumbledore chuckled and waved for Douglas to proceed.
Douglas tossed the Dark Magic Nullification Bomb down the opening. Thanks to the tracking charm he'd placed on it, he could sense it had reached the bottom. He snapped his fingers.
A dull boom echoed up, followed by a blinding flash of white light from the depths.
Douglas checked the radar again. This time, the display showed only a pale, ghostly image. Satisfied, he nodded.
"Looks like it's safe to go down now."
He stowed his gear and prepared to jump in—only to be stopped by Dumbledore.
"Hagrid tells me your roasted snake is legendary. I've never had the pleasure. Today seems like the perfect opportunity—might I finally get a taste?"
Dumbledore's smile was genial, but there was no mistaking the firmness beneath it. Douglas let out a helpless sigh.
This was exactly what he'd feared. He remembered—if only vaguely—that Dumbledore had been cursed by Dark Magic when retrieving the ring. Even though Douglas had just destroyed the traps, there was no guarantee the curse on the ring itself was gone.
After a moment's thought, he produced a stone box from his pocket—crafted from Anti-Magic Stone and purchased from the System Shop. In this vast and mysterious world, even Dumbledore might not recognize every magical artifact, so Douglas wasn't worried about awkward questions.
He handed the box to Dumbledore, his tone grave.
"If you insist on going alone, please promise me this: whatever you find, put it in this box immediately and bring it back up so we can study it together.
Don't open the box unless you're sure you've found the right item. And no matter what, don't touch it with your bare hands."
Dumbledore, now thoroughly unfazed by Douglas's endless trove of magical gadgets, met his earnest gaze and smiled.
"I really must be getting old. No wonder everyone fusses over my health these days.
Very well, I promise. But when I return, I expect your cooking to live up to its reputation!"
Douglas arched an eyebrow with confidence.
"You have my word!"
Ten minutes later.
Douglas looked for all the world as if he were on holiday—table set, grill assembled, seasonings at the ready…
He was just leisurely turning a skewer of snake meat when a sharp crack split the air. Instinctively, he grabbed his wand and aimed toward the sound.
He relaxed as soon as he saw Dumbledore, who was holding the stone box and smiling.
"Excellent reflexes."
Douglas eyed Dumbledore up and down—no missing limbs, no strange marks on his hands. Relieved, he asked,
"Professor, you look delighted. Did you find something?"
Dumbledore's expression grew complicated. He glanced at Douglas.
"How did you come by this box? Not that I'm accusing you—I just think it's best not to let too many people know you own such a thing..."
Douglas understood immediately—the Anti-Magic Stone box looked ordinary, but once opened, it created a magic-dead zone within a meter. No matter how powerful the wizard, they'd be as helpless as a Muggle inside it, unable to cast spells or use magical items.
Fortunately, for wizards in this world—whose power comes from bloodlines—the effect was only temporary and non-harmful. It simply suppressed their magic and disabled magical objects within its range.
Douglas didn't bother opening the box, just set it down and offered his own seat to Dumbledore, perching atop the box himself.
As he continued grilling, he said,
"No one's seen this thing except you, Professor. As for where I got it…
Well, you know I traveled a lot after graduation…"
He coughed to change the subject.
"Anyway, did you find anything down there?"
Dumbledore hesitated, then said,
"Douglas, have you ever heard of 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'? Oh, right—you grew up in the Muggle world. Perhaps you've never heard this wizarding children's story…"
Douglas sprinkled seasoning on the snake meat, the aroma instantly filling the air. He replied offhandedly,
"Of course I know it—it's the story of the Deathly Hallows. Plenty of people through history have searched for them.
Take Grindelwald, for example—the symbol of his followers was the mark of the Hallows.
Harry's Invisibility Cloak? If I'm not mistaken, it's the very one that belonged to the third brother, Ignotus Peverell.
That wand in your hand? It must be the Elder Wand, crafted for the eldest brother, Antioch Peverell.
The only one left unaccounted for is the Resurrection Stone, which belonged to the second brother, Cadmus Peverell…
Come on, Professor, you know I'm a writer—I do my research, even into obscure wizarding history."
As he spoke, Douglas drew the symbol of the Deathly Hallows in the dirt—a triangle enclosing a circle, bisected by a vertical line. The line stood for the Elder Wand, the circle for the Resurrection Stone, and the triangle for the Invisibility Cloak.
Dumbledore stared at the symbol for a long, silent moment, lost in thought.
At last, he looked up, his expression conflicted.
"But no history book ever claimed I possessed the Elder Wand. How did you…"
Douglas handed him a skewer of freshly roasted snake, grinning.
"Since you looked into my background, you've probably heard about my wand from Ollivander. Both our wands are made from elder wood—I'd never mistake the feel of it."
Dumbledore's hand paused mid-reach, a hint of embarrassment flickering across his face.
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