The spellbook Arthur took out was nearly ten centimeters thick.
Despite its heft, it actually recorded only a handful of basic glintstone sorceries.
Glintstone magic was fundamentally different from the magic used in the modern wizarding world.
Wizarding magic had a low barrier to entry. As long as one memorized the incantation and wand movement, even a first-year student could successfully cast a spell or two through self-study.
Glintstone sorcery, on the other hand, demanded a massive amount of theoretical knowledge just to get started.
Back then, even Hermione had spent quite some time studying before she fully mastered the basic glintstone spells Arthur taught her.
Snape took the spellbook from Arthur and flipped through it briefly.
This book was a teaching manual Arthur had personally compiled—covering everything from foundational theory to casting techniques.
It even included animated illustrations demonstrating spell effects.
Those images felt oddly familiar to Snape.
Weren't these the very spells Arthur had used during their duel in Snape's second year?
Although only a small portion was shown, it still made Snape wonder whether Arthur had casually brought out something akin to a family inheritance.
Given how sensitive the topic of magical legacies was, Snape didn't ask any questions. Instead, he quietly continued reading.
Before he realized it, he was completely absorbed.
The theories presented were novel and highly stimulating, offering him a wealth of inspiration.
After all, Snape was someone who had invented Sectumsempra while still a student—his talent in spell creation was second to none.
Given enough time, he was confident he could develop entirely new spells based on the theories in this book.
Seeing Snape so engrossed, Arthur didn't disturb him. He turned and left the office.
All that remained now was to wait until Snape was ready—then choose a night filled with brilliant starlight to carry out the transformation.
After leaving Snape's office, Arthur learned from a student that Dumbledore was looking for him.
That was unusual.
Why wasn't that old schemer chasing after his precious Savior of the Wizarding World—why come looking for him instead?
With curiosity, Arthur made his way to the headmaster's office.
When Dumbledore saw him, he smiled warmly.
"You're here. Sit down, please."
Arthur sat on the sofa.
"What did you want to see me about?"
"Primarily the second task of the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore replied.
"And while we're at it, I thought we might have a little chat."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"What does the second task have to do with me? Don't tell me you want me to be the one waiting underwater to be rescued?"
"Oh?" Dumbledore chuckled. "So you already know what the second task is. Did Severus tell you?"
Arthur waved it off.
"Something like that."
He couldn't exactly say he'd read the script.
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "It's exactly as you suspect. We need you to remain underwater for a while. After all, the person Hermione cares about most is you."
Arthur thought about it. Visiting the merfolk as a guest didn't sound too bad. He was actually curious what Hermione's expression would be when she saw him underwater.
He nodded.
"Alright. I'll go down when the time comes."
Seeing Arthur agree so easily, Dumbledore added,
"If possible, please refrain from harming the merfolk in the Black Lake. Since several of their kin disappeared a few years ago, their numbers have already dwindled."
The words were polite—but the subtext was clear.
Please stop tormenting them. At this rate, they'll go extinct.
Dumbledore had his suspicions about the disappearances. They almost certainly had something to do with Arthur—he just lacked evidence.
And even if he had proof… what could he really do?
Arthur nodded silently.
Truth be told, the missing merfolk were entirely his doing.
Ever since the day the merfolk snatched away his catch while he was fishing, Arthur had unilaterally declared a feud.
From then on, whenever he conducted alchemical experiments or brewed potions, he used the Black Lake's merfolk as test subjects.
Years passed in the blink of an eye, and the merfolk population was nearly wiped out.
Of course, sustainability mattered.
He had already raised a new batch of merfolk in his Zen Garden. Releasing a few back into the lake later would solve the problem.
Come to think of it… did releasing merfolk count as earning merit?
As Arthur's thoughts wandered, Dumbledore, having finished business, finally moved on to his real purpose.
Small talk.
Yes—that was why Dumbledore had summoned him.
It was Christmas, a time meant for family gatherings in Britain.
Yet Dumbledore had no family left—save for a brother with whom his relationship was strained.
Lonely as he was, he simply wanted someone to talk to.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Arthur came to mind.
To be honest, Arthur was the most inscrutable person Dumbledore had ever met.
When Arthur first arrived at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had only thought him a prodigy.
But in just a few short years, Arthur's growth had become downright terrifying.
A year or two ago, Dumbledore had already realized he could no longer gauge Arthur's true strength.
That alone meant Arthur was at least his equal.
Yet despite being so powerful—and so young—Arthur had never gathered followers like Voldemort, never preached ideals, never sought to carve out a place in the wizarding world.
Instead, he remained at Hogwarts, as if genuinely intending to complete all seven years of schooling.
That contradiction fascinated Dumbledore.
He wanted to understand Arthur's way of thinking.
Today just happened to be the perfect opportunity—but he didn't dive straight into the question.
Instead, he smiled and asked casually,
"By the way—how exactly did Miss Granger manage to obtain the golden egg? Would you indulge an old man's curiosity?"
Dumbledore was well-versed in dragons—he'd even identified twelve uses for dragon blood.
So he was deeply curious why the Chinese Fireball had been so terrified of Hermione.
Arthur replied,
"Have you heard of bloodline suppression from higher-tier dragon species?"
Dumbledore's eyes lit up.
He'd encountered the term in ancient texts—legends spoke of superior dragon species whose mere presence could suppress lesser dragons.
Seeing that Dumbledore understood, Arthur continued,
"Hermione was carrying a scale from a high-tier dragon."
Dumbledore immediately thought of the strange lizard that often perched on Arthur's shoulder.
Not Laya—but Ifrit.
Ifrit loved resting on Arthur's shoulder, folding her wings to resemble a red lizard with unusual markings.
She wasn't there now, largely because she disliked winter and preferred the eternal spring of the Zen Garden.
Dumbledore also remembered Draco having a similar creature—though far less impressive.
He probed carefully,
"That little one on your shoulder… she wouldn't happen to be a high-tier dragon, would she?"
"Mhm," Arthur nodded.
"And Mr. Malfoy's?"
Arthur waved it off.
"That one isn't. It's just a Welsh Green Dragon reduced in size by a special spell."
He didn't bother explaining runes—Dumbledore wasn't his client.
Hearing Draco's wasn't genuine, Dumbledore actually relaxed.
One true high-tier dragon appearing in this era was already miraculous—two would've been absurd.
Otherwise, he might've been tempted to ask Arthur how to get one himself.
Noticing Dumbledore drop the topic, Arthur asked curiously,
"That's it? Knowing Ifrit's a high-tier dragon, you don't want a scale or two for research?"
Dumbledore chuckled.
"So her name is Ifrit—the spirit of flame. A fine name."
Then he countered,
"What sort of thoughts do you imagine I'd have?"
"At the very least, wanting a scale to study?" Arthur said.
"I'd like to," Dumbledore admitted,
"But between managing the Triwizard Tournament and guarding Harry from Voldemort, I hardly have time for research."
Then he changed the subject.
"Speaking of Voldemort—when do you think he'll make his move on Harry?"
Arthur replied calmly,
"Who knows? Probably when we're most off guard."
In the original timeline, Voldemort struck the moment Harry touched the Triwizard Cup, activating it as a Portkey and sending him to the Riddle family graveyard.
What method he'd use this time was hard to say.
If he followed the same plan, Hermione—with her current strength—would reach the Cup faster than Cedric ever had.
Which meant the first to trigger the Portkey would undoubtedly be Hermione.
The real question was whether Barty Crouch Jr., currently masquerading as Moody, had accounted for that possibility.
Advance Chapters Available on Patreon
patreon.com/WhiteDevil7554