In the sky, the stone pillars of the corridor smashed onto the lawn, and everyone in the Castle felt the sudden, immense tremor.
And this was a slow release of energy, with huge black flames gushing out wildly.
At the very center of the explosion, Harry and Hermione were slammed against the wall by the massive shockwave.
He stubbornly twisted his body to shield Hermione, while turning his head to look at the flames.
The scorching magical flames were so blinding that in the distorted vision, he could barely make out a black figure.
"Snape…" Harry mumbled, struggling to raise his hand.
The next moment, in front of Snape, the air twisted.
Howl's figure appeared, holding a huge wand.
[Α σ π δ α ν ε ρ θ α ν τ ο υ]
A dark torrent appeared in front of them, contending with the black and green magical flames.
Howl was surprised; he had only spent a little time processing memories, and this guy was already trying to self-detonate.
Moreover, this was absolutely not an explosion caused by chaotic energy.
Instead, it was a logical stimulation of internal energy through some ritual, causing it to erupt in the most violent way.
It was like the difference between a firecracker and C4…
At the same time, a crisp cry rang out.
On both the left and right sides of the corridor, golden flames rapidly pushed back and devoured the black and green magical flames, forcing them to dissipate outside the corridor's ceiling.
A moment later, everything came to an end.
On the left was Dumbledore, and on the right was the Phoenix Fawkes, who, though newly born, still exerted itself to participate.
Howl retreated behind the Shield of Dead Water and quickly turned his head.
At this moment, Severus's front was charred, with granulation tissue pulsing between his skin and flesh, and some shallow bones exposed, showing cracks.
He struggled to turn around and look at Harry.
He looked at those green eyes.
Then, he collapsed.
However, Howl calmly stepped over his ruined body and quickly walked towards another body lying on the ground.
The gaping blood-hole in his chest was so striking.
His soul had already completely drained from this shell, but—
"Uncle Howl, Ron he…"
"You go retrieve Norbert, Ron is fine!" Howl said calmly and deeply, his two fingers placed on the boy's forehead, sensing where his soul had gone.
"The soul still exists in this world!"
Dumbledore raised his hand, and Fawkes quickly flew down, tears appearing in its eyes.
"Go to Severus." Howl said to Fawkes.
With that, a golden coin flashed in his hand.
What followed was the gradual black mist emanating from his eyes, and the golden coin also floated up, radiating a basket-purple starlight flame.
And the skull on the golden coin reflected a dazzling light.
Eerie, powerful, and that strong aura of death…
A lengthy incantation appeared, which Dumbledore could barely understand a bit of, his face filled with surprise.
"In the name of Howl Jenkins, King of the Seven Seas, I Curse Ronald Billius Weasley.
Moonlight and night will strip him of everything—even death!
From now on, Ronald Billius Weasley shall forever fall into the abyss, degenerating into an inferior existence, neither living nor dead!!"
Then, the golden coin fell into his abdominal cavity, slowly stopping in the center of his chest.
Flesh and blood rapidly regenerated and reconnected, and a moment later, his eyes suddenly opened, gasping for breath.
Ron looked at his exposed chest, disbelievingly saying, "I… I'm not dead?!"
"Not dead, but not alive either." Howl smiled wearily.
"To lock onto someone's soul, there's nothing simpler and more effective than a Curse.
Most powerful Curses are related to the soul or bloodline.
So just now, in my name, I Cursed you to never be able to truly die!"
Ron stared blankly at Howl.
...
"Professor, I don't understand…"
Howl plunged a claw into his chest, startling the boy into freezing.
However, a moment later, he looked at the hand penetrating his chest…
"Ah?! I… I'm immortal?!"
Howl withdrew his arm, and the wound began to heal at a visible rate.
"But you also won't feel pain." Howl smiled, "You'll know later, this won't be a good thing."
Saying that, he stood up and looked at Snape, the Phoenix Fawkes standing on his body, constantly shedding hot tears, while Dumbledore waved his elder wand, continuously casting healing spells.
"Looks like the problem isn't big."
Dumbledore smiled bitterly and shook his head: "Mostly just superficial wounds… The internal injuries have little to do with the magical flames; he must have drunk at least three Potions.
It's a pity, though, he might not make it past Christmas.
Let's go to the infirmary first."
After speaking, he looked at Harry and Hermione.
"I imagine you two would like a draught of exhilaration."
Harry and Hermione nodded stiffly, both children feeling quite unwell at the moment.
"What happened here?!" Professor McGonagall's surprised cry rang out, her face pale, filled with worry.
At this moment, the corridor was scorched black, all the magical paintings in the entire corridor were burned to ashes, and the window glass was shattered.
As for the walls and floor, they were completely charred.
As for Pettigrew, he had long turned to dust, with no remains left.
"Minerva, would you mind helping us deal with the aftermath?" Dumbledore looked at Professor McGonagall seriously.
McGonagall was somewhat stunned, but seeing Severus's tragic state, she could only nod.
"Okay!"
...
...
In the infirmary, after listening to the three children's accounts, Howl was a bit surprised.
"I initially thought he was very loyal."
"Riddle told him a self-detonation spell and disguised it as a so-called ritual to gain great power?!" Dumbledore was also somewhat surprised.
"And then he wanted to kill Weasley…"
The two conversed back and forth, finally turning their gaze to Ron Weasley.
He was currently troubled by one thing.
Everyone said the draught of exhilaration tasted like their favorite thing.
Hermione shared that she tasted new books and the scent of the lawn.
And Harry said he tasted a faint woody scent, like the lingering smell of cinnamon after being lit.
But he… tasted nothing, like drinking plain water, no, even more tasteless than drinking plain boiled water.
Although he couldn't describe the taste of plain boiled water either…
Meeting the gazes of the Principal and Professor Jones, he smiled very puzzledly: "What's wrong, Professor?"
"Ron, why did Pettigrew want to kill you?" Howl slowly spoke.
"He… didn't he say he was sacrificing me, abandoning his last bit of conscience, in exchange for power?" Ron was completely bewildered.
Howl sighed helplessly.
He didn't know if Ron hadn't heard his and Dumbledore's conversation at all, or if he hadn't understood the meaning of their conversation.
"That was fake; the deep logical chain of that ritual was a self-detonation Curse.
The person behind Pettigrew could have woven this fake Curse in a million simpler ways, but why… why did he specifically guide him to kill you?!" Howl said.
"What did you do? Or rather… what do you know?" Dumbledore's tone was slow.
"What do I know? This…" In Ron's mind, countless memories began to surface.
Under Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes flickered.
A moment later, his aura subtly changed, then he slowly reminded: "For example, some strange Dark Arts objects? Necklaces, ornaments, or… books?"
"Strange Dark Arts objects…" Ron pondered deeply…
After a long while, he suddenly shouted: "It's that notebook!!"
"Weasley, you must be quiet!" Madam Pomfrey's reprimand sounded.
"Oh." He shrunk his neck, then quickly whispered: "Riddle! Riddle's diary!! Professor, did you just mention that name? Oh my goodness… How… how did I just realize…"
Howl's pointed ear twitched.
He stood up, suddenly pulled open the white curtain, and looked at the figure lying on the hospital bed.
"When you said the words 'Riddle's diary,' you seemed a bit strange just now… Mr. Flint!"
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