"Variables? What variables?"
Moody became alert at once. "Has our plan been exposed? Or is some third party planning to interfere?"
He knew that Dumbledore's trip out this time had been to see Grindelwald, and he knew about the relationship the two of them had once shared. More importantly, he also knew that Grindelwald possessed a form of prophecy that absolutely could not be underestimated. So for Dumbledore to call something a "variable," and even risk exposure by returning early to inform him that the plan had to be changed, meant it was something worthy of facing with twelve parts vigilance.
"…Neither."
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment before answering. "He provided some information that went beyond my original expectations. I told you before that, according to intelligence I gathered through my own channels, the pure-blood families intend to kill me outright this year. And all this time, I had never been able to understand what gave them the confidence to set that goal, nor how exactly they intended to carry it out… until that person just now told me the specific details."
Avada's pupils contracted.
Under the observation of his magical senses, when Dumbledore spoke those words to Moody, his spiritual state was displaying a faint but unmistakable trace of concealment.
Combined with the question Moody had asked earlier… it seemed Grindelwald had already told Dumbledore—or at least hinted at—the existence of Leach University?
But Dumbledore's attitude toward him had shown no unusual changes before, so he probably still did not know that Avada was already a professor at Leach University, nor did he know that the university intended to recruit him ahead of schedule…
Thank goodness. It looked like Grindelwald had not revealed very much.
"Specific information?"
Moody frowned. "Looks like in the last fifty-odd years, his prophetic ability has improved quite a bit. An ordinary prophecy couldn't possibly show the full course of an event in such detail…"
"…Mr. Ken, would you mind stepping outside for a moment?"
Dumbledore did not respond to Moody's remark. Instead, he suddenly turned to Avada. "Professor Moody and I still have a few matters to discuss."
"I thought he was one of the core figures in this plan."
Moody sounded rather surprised, and even Avada himself was a little taken aback.
He had already brought out the Resurrection Stone, after all—what exactly was left of Dumbledore and Grindelwald's history that needed to be hidden from him?
Or was this act of "sending him away" itself another suggestion from Grindelwald, who had apparently seen yet another fragment of the future?
"All right, Professor."
He nodded without giving anything away, then casually asked, "How is the person playing my role doing right now? Do I still need to attend tonight's ball?"
"He probably won't be back before midnight."
This time it was Moody who answered, since Dumbledore himself had also been absent the whole time Avada's stand-in had been acting in his place.
"You can wait in your room for him. Once the ball ends, he should come hand things over to you. Just remember to put a Disillusionment Charm on yourself ahead of time so nobody sees you."
"Understood."
Avada nodded, then turned and left Dumbledore's office, walked down the long corridor, and returned to his room.
Sitting in a chair and quietly gazing at Durmstrang Castle outside the window, bathed in sunlight, he suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of emptiness.
Voldemort—the terrifying Dark Lord who, in the original story, took a full seven years to be truly killed, who returned to life and plunged the entire magical world into chaos, took countless lives, and even caused Dumbledore's death through the curse he had left behind…
That terrifying Dark Lord had now been silently stripped by Avada of every one of his life-preserving trump cards. It only took the force needed to smash a single glass bottle to kill him completely. And now the bottle containing his soul had already fallen into Dumbledore's hands, making it impossible for anyone to steal it away…
And even if it were stolen, it would be useless.
In the original story, Voldemort's wandering soul had been able to return because his Horcruxes kept his soul lingering in the world, allowing it to exist independently even without a body. That was what made it possible for it to be poured into a new physical form. But this time, the instant Voldemort's soul left the confines of that bottle, the power of Death would seize it in the first moment it touched the outside air, and it would dissipate from the world completely.
So even if the Death Eaters somehow managed to steal the bottle, it would have no value beyond being something interesting to look at. After all, the face of Tom Riddle floating inside it was rather handsome.
So in a certain sense, Voldemort could already be considered dead.
Like a porcelain bowl that had fallen from a shelf in a cupboard and become wedged against the cabinet door—though it had not yet shattered, it could no longer be taken out and used.
Although Avada had already designed the plan to seal Voldemort's main soul as far back as his second year, the instant he truly realized that Voldemort was "basically already dead," he still felt a strange sense of unreality, as if lifetimes had passed.
It was as though he had completely fulfilled some great mission and could now relax forever…
Ha… what am I thinking?
In the end, he shook his head and threw those messy thoughts out of his mind.
The diehard pure-blood faction is still the real problem. Once the existence of the university is made fully public, they'll definitely be among the most violently reactive people. When that happens, I'll be even busier… And then there's the question of coexistence with Muggles after magical society stabilizes. That issue is still a long way off, but I'll definitely live long enough to see that time come…
Oh right, speaking of the university…
Avada suddenly jolted, and a matter he had tossed to the back of his mind for a long time abruptly surfaced in his memory.
Don't I still have to send myself an admission letter in accordance with the university's requirements?
Damn it. I originally planned to use the return trip to school as an excuse to send that invitation over by owl. But because everything was arranged so tightly, I completely forgot about it…
Looks like I'll have to find some way to break through Durmstrang's wards myself and sneak out to receive the letter—great. I'd just been thinking I didn't have anything left to do, and suddenly I've got work again.
He immediately pulled out paper and a pen and bent over the desk, using his magical senses to analyze the restrictions permeating the space around Durmstrang while rapidly calculating.
Simply craking the wards and slipping out unnoticed would not actually be difficult for him. The real problem was figuring out Durmstrang's true location once outside, and then returning to it precisely afterward. Dumbledore had managed it through a specially made Portkey he had prepared in advance, but Avada had no desire to make things that troublesome…