Chapter 269
The gleaming oak door opened silently.
Only the crisp sound of the griffin-shaped brass knocker and the soft creak of the door itself broke the stillness.
Albus Dumbledore stepped into the office.
The Triwizard Tournament had ended, and he had finally returned.
But now, he looked unusually weary.
The energetic, upright old wizard who always seemed calm and composed appeared visibly exhausted. Even his tall figure seemed slightly bent beneath invisible pressure.
It was obvious—
He was in a terrible mood.
And physically drained.
That was only natural.
For an ordinary wizard, merely surviving a battle against Lord Voldemort would already exhaust every ounce of strength they possessed.
And although this was Dumbledore—
That did not mean he could afford to lower his guard.
Besides, no matter how vigorous he usually appeared, he was still a man over a hundred years old. Compared to his younger days, his stamina had inevitably declined.
"You're back, Professor Dumbledore?"
A young voice spoke from nearby.
The speaker was Draco Malfoy.
At the moment, he was standing beside Fawkes's perch, casually teasing the phoenix.
Fawkes was currently in excellent condition. Its bright crimson feathers shone brilliantly under the light, making it appear especially spirited.
The phoenix hopped happily along the branch because Malfoy was conjuring small blazing fireballs with his wand and feeding them to it.
"Fawkes, that's enough. Be careful—you won't be able to digest any more."
Dumbledore shook his head lightly as he walked over.
Fawkes reluctantly stopped eating, though it still gazed at Malfoy expectantly with its intelligent eyes.
Clearly, its fondness for the boy had increased quite a bit.
Phoenixes were extremely intelligent creatures.
It understood that its master trusted this boy deeply.
Dumbledore had even given Malfoy a separate password allowing him unrestricted access to the headmaster's office.
So Fawkes no longer reacted with suspicion toward him.
Otherwise—
A phoenix would not mind acting as a terrifying guard against unwanted intruders.
"Well then," Malfoy said as he casually pulled over a wooden chair and sat down, "let's talk, Professor Dumbledore. I'm guessing things didn't go quite as smoothly as we hoped."
"Indeed," Dumbledore admitted with a sigh. "There was an accident."
Malfoy's fingers tightened briefly into fists—
Then slowly relaxed again.
He forcibly suppressed the disappointment and frustration rising within him and asked calmly,
"What kind of accident?"
A plan he had prepared for so long…
Had failed.
The feeling left him strangely empty.
But at the same time—
It felt inevitable.
After all, no one could control everything completely.
Once the butterfly flapped its wings, the resulting storm would only grow larger and harder to predict.
"Voldemort revived himself without using Harry's blood," Dumbledore said quietly, adjusting his glasses. "I still don't know what happened, but he resurrected himself ahead of schedule."
Malfoy frowned immediately, his thin lips pressing tightly together.
"Why?" he asked.
"I don't know." Dumbledore shook his head tiredly.
"What about the snake?"
Malfoy continued pressing for information.
"Voldemort was extremely cautious," Dumbledore explained. "The moment I appeared, he immediately ordered the serpent away from the battlefield. In the end, he even escaped with Peter Pettigrew."
"He seemed able to vaguely sense that I had been observing him," Dumbledore continued. "Though he wasn't certain. I could feel his vigilance, so I didn't dare approach too closely. By the time I realized he had already resurrected, Harry's appearance there had become meaningless."
The old man closed his eyes briefly.
"And by then, the tournament had already begun. I couldn't risk returning to stop it. If Harry had touched the Portkey while I was absent…" Dumbledore's voice lowered slightly. "The consequences would have been unimaginable."
"So I revealed myself directly and attempted to subdue Voldemort instead. Even if the odds were slim."
Dumbledore sighed again.
"At that time, the Death Eaters had already begun gathering around him. He had summoned them using the Dark Mark. Since the original plan had failed, the best option left was damage control. If I could capture him, that alone would have been worthwhile."
"His strength has weakened considerably," Dumbledore added.
Under normal circumstances, that should have been good news.
"Of course it weakened," Malfoy said inwardly.
Years ago, he had secretly replaced part of Voldemort's father's ashes in advance.
His purpose had always been simple—
Weaken Voldemort as much as possible.
He could have removed all of the ashes entirely.
But that might have forced Voldemort to devise another resurrection method, introducing even more dangerous variables.
Trying to completely eliminate Voldemort while he existed only as a wandering soul fragment was practically impossible.
Defeating him—
And truly killing him—
Were entirely different things.
After surviving as a fugitive for over a decade, Voldemort's ability to escape had become terrifying.
And that wasn't all.
Malfoy had even tampered with Peter Pettigrew.
While everyone praised him publicly as a heroic champion, Wormtail had secretly been ingesting countless potions specially prepared by Severus Snape.
Everything had been done for one purpose:
To reduce Voldemort's restored strength to a manageable level.
And by Dumbledore's judgment—
That objective had succeeded.
Unfortunately—
Human hearts were unpredictable.
Neither Malfoy nor Dumbledore had expected that Pettigrew's hatred, mixed with sheer coincidence, would completely derail their expectations.
Because of that mistake—
Voldemort had lost his "perfect" resurrection.
And they—
Had lost the opportunity to place a fatal weakness upon him.
"But in the end, he still escaped, didn't he?" Malfoy said quietly.
"He'll do anything necessary to restore his strength. Not only through his own body… but through external means as well."
He stared directly into Dumbledore's blue eyes as he spoke.
"External means…" Dumbledore repeated softly.
Then his expression changed.
"Wands?" he asked abruptly.
A second later, the old man's face paled.
Voldemort would inevitably notice the abnormality between the twin-core wands.
And once he discovered it—
There was no telling what he might do.
With his mastery of Legilimency and interrogation magic, extracting information from others was one of Voldemort's greatest strengths.
"So you've realized it, Professor," Malfoy said calmly. "At the moment, I have two possible plans. Would you like to hear them?"
"Of course," Dumbledore replied immediately. "Tell me everything."
…
After a long silence—
"That's too cruel," Dumbledore finally said softly.
He walked over to Fawkes' perch and gently stroked the phoenix's feathers, as though trying to steady his thoughts.
"Perhaps," Malfoy replied casually. "But I think it's acceptable. Having one more experience isn't necessarily a bad thing."
Then his tone shifted slightly.
"But while I'm gone… I hope you'll help take care of it."
"Of course." Dumbledore folded his hands together and answered solemnly.
"That is my responsibility."
Behind the half-moon glasses, his blue eyes shone with startling intensity.