Magic is a power born out of emotions, mental strength, and physical strength.
So when Dumbledore completely lost his sanity, the magic leaking out of him naturally turned into a dangerous crimson, recklessly tormenting the already devastated little graveyard.
That terrifying magic practically bulldozed and vaporized all the land within dozens of meters around Dumbledore, then began twisting and mutating, forming into ghostly claws or tentacles that slammed and exploded, blasting one crater after another into the ground.
In that instant, dirt and bones flew up in violent bursts, shocking Link into retreating all the way back near the house, where he raised a protective wall with his curse power.
Fortunately, Dumbledore's decades of self-restraint still had some effect.
After venting his madness for several minutes, his reason gradually returned.
But even this bit of returned reason was still very limited.
Because Link noticed that he was reaching again toward the Resurrection Stone on the ground.
"Ho… ho… ho!"
A strange noise gurgled from Dumbledore's throat.
With his stiff palm, he picked up the Resurrection Stone, rubbing and stroking it repeatedly.
As he moved, a faint eerie glow suddenly lit up on the originally pitch-black stone, and soon, several semi-transparent figures rose out of it.
It seemed to be a family of three, two weary-looking middle-aged parents leaning against each other, each resting an arm on the shoulders of the young girl standing before them.
Their expressions were sorrowful, but they said nothing, only gazing at Dumbledore.
Most importantly, their faces bore some resemblance to his.
From the moment they appeared, Dumbledore froze completely.
Mouth agape, he stared at the three of them, unwilling to even blink.
Time seemed to stop in that moment.
After a long while, the mother suddenly moved.
With a sorrowful expression, she reached out her hand as if to caress Dumbledore's cheek. But regrettably, that incorporeal hand simply passed straight through his face.
This action was like triggering the switch of Dumbledore's emotions. He finally collapsed to his knees, crying and shouting his repentance toward the three of them.
He spoke a great deal, but Link had no interest in listening.
Because Arkam and Yoyo were both gravely injured.
Especially Yoyo.
Arkam's anti-magic scales at least covered its whole body. The worst injury it sustained was when it bit at the Resurrection Stone ring and the magic currents shredded its mouth a bit.
But Yoyo, a creature that constantly needs to roll up into a shelled ball, had no anti-magic scales at all across its entire front.
What's more, it had just been carrying Arkam as the vanguard, practically breaking through the torrent of magic all on its own.
The result of that was now Yoyo's entire chest and belly flesh had been shredded, its giant fleshy wings torn into tatters. It could only whimper faintly while lying in Link's arms.
At that moment, Link was frantically smearing healing potions from his belt across Arkam and Yoyo's wounds, sometimes even forcing a few concentrated dittany brews down their throats.
Thanks to his efforts, Arkam was basically fine.
But Yoyo's condition was still dire.
Even though Link had used all his carefully brewed potions, and even resorted to the secret elixirs he had shamelessly begged from Snape's Slytherin Grimoire, against wounds as massive as Yoyo's, the effect was still poor.
Looking at the blood-soaked, weakening Yoyo in his arms, Link clenched his teeth, rising to summon the Knight Bus to rush to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies.
Yoyo might not even survive that long journey, but at this point, it was the best, and only, option.
Just then, however, a big hand pressed down on his shoulder, forcing him back down.
"Leave it to me."
Dumbledore had somehow appeared before him, and as he spoke, he plucked Arkam right out of Link's arms.
Under Link's wary gaze, he suddenly pulled a glass tank filled with transparent liquid from his pocket and shoved Arkam inside.
"GRAAAH!!!"
A scream ripped through the night sky, startling dogs into barking in the village below.
The moment the previously limp Arkam was submerged, it jolted upright, thrashing and howling in pain, trying to burst out, but Dumbledore's magic held it firmly down.
This reaction was unsurprising, because the instant its wounds touched the liquid, they began reacting violently.
Countless tiny bubbles surged from its flesh, covering Yoyo's entire front side.
The scene reminded Link of when he used hydrogen peroxide to clean wounds as a child.
Remembering that searing agony, Link involuntarily sucked in cold air, so vividly that Arkam even thought Link was speaking to it, poking its head out to stare at him in confusion.
But even knowing what unimaginable pain Arkam was going through, Link still didn't try to stop Dumbledore.
Because with his supersensory spell, he could see clearly through the froth, Arkam's wounds were rapidly knitting closed.
That unknown transparent liquid was practically performing a miracle, healing Arkam in moments.
Splash!
Once Arkam was restored, Dumbledore yanked it out, shook it twice to fling the liquid back into the tank, then shoved it into Link's arms.
"Wuuuu~"
Back in Link's embrace, Arkam whined like a wronged child, burrowing its head into Link's chest.
Link had no choice but to soothe and pet it, until it finally calmed down. Only then did he glance thoughtfully at the tank and ask, "What is that stuff?"
"Phoenix tears."
Dumbledore's reply was brief. After speaking, he quickly stowed the tank away.
"So it is phoenix tears!"
Link's expression turned odd.
In theory, Dumbledore using such an immense, precious supply of phoenix tears to heal Arkam should have made Link grateful.
Yet the first thought flashing in his mind was, 'Why does this old man have so many phoenix tears?'
'He couldn't possibly be abusing Fawkes, stringing him up and beating him daily just to collect tears, could he?'
Thinking that, Link's eyes toward Dumbledore grew increasingly strange.
"Ahem!"
Seemingly unsettled by Link's gaze, Dumbledore quickly shifted the topic, "I could sense the curse lingering on that ring's remnants. Thank you, Link."
He then bent down to address Yoyo and Arkam, "And of course, thank you too."
The two beasts bared their teeth at him, but Dumbledore wasn't offended. Smiling, he dangled the Resurrection Stone before Link's eyes and asked, "Do you know what this is?"
Link locked eyes with him and said, "The Deathly Hallow, the Resurrection Stone."
"You actually know?" Dumbledore looked a bit surprised, then nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose it makes sense. After all, you are their child."
Link's brow furrowed. From his words, it seemed his so-called father's involvement here went even deeper than he'd imagined.
After all, The Tales of Beedle the Bard may have spread widely, but the truth of the Hallows' existence was scarcely known.
At that moment, Dumbledore's gaze turned serious, "You want it, don't you?"
"You won't give it to me anyway, will you?" Link's voice was calm and expressionless.
He did want the Resurrection Stone. Not just it, he wanted all three Deathly Hallows.
But not because he lusted for their power. The real reason was that just now, when Dumbledore drew near holding the stone, another golden mission prompt had flashed across his retina,
[Mission: Collect the Deathly Hallows!]
[Current progress: 0/3]
[Reward: Unknown!]
The instant he saw it, Link couldn't help but feel excited.
This was the very first time the system had issued him a mission with an actual reward. Unknown though it was, from past experience, it would definitely be worth it.
But as things stood, completing this mission was nearly impossible.
Because all three Hallows were, in fact, already in Dumbledore's possession.
And Link wasn't naïve enough to believe Dumbledore would ever simply hand them over.
Of course, that didn't mean he had no chance of getting them.
It would just require planning.
To his surprise, Dumbledore shook his head and said, "No. I can give them to you."
Link's eyes widened slightly.
"Legend says, the one who possesses all the Hallows is the Master of Death. In my youth, I believed this deeply, and even set out with companions to seek them. So I know how much you must desire them."
His voice was deep and hoarse. As he spoke, three spheres of white light floated from his wand tip.
In the air, they swiftly morphed into a wand, a stone, and a cloak, orbiting him once before combining into a strange symbol, an equilateral triangle enclosing a circle crossed by a line.
"But I can tell you clearly, the Hallows' legend is false. They do each hold wondrous power, but they do not have the might to subdue Death."
"In fact, our research suggests they are nothing more than three powerful artifacts crafted by the Peverell family with unknown methods."
"Mere objects like these, of course I can hand to you. Not just the Resurrection Stone, even the Elder Wand I hold could be yours."
"But not yet. Only when the right time comes. For now, I still need them to accomplish certain things."
"And what's the difference between that and saying nothing?" Link's tone was icy.
"There is a difference. At the very least, this should put to rest some reckless ideas you might have, don't you think?" Dumbledore said with a chuckle.
"Oh, and by the way, I haven't been using Occlumency since just now. You should be able to tell with Legilimency that everything I've said is true, right?"
Link said nothing. There was nothing to argue.
Though he had Occlumency himself, Dumbledore was simply too shrewd.
He hardly even needed magic to intuit what Link was thinking.
Realizing this, Link didn't bother with politeness. He said directly, "You'd better keep your word, and quickly. I don't want to wait long."
His words carried a faintly threatening edge, almost arrogant.
After all, he was speaking to the so-called greatest white wizard of the century.
But Dumbledore wasn't angry at all. Instead, he burst out laughing.
He knew Link truly did have the power to threaten him.
Stroking his beard, he said with a grin, "Good! This is much better. Between us, things should be honest like this. Whatever you want, just tell me directly. If I can give it to you, I will."
"But let me remind you of one thing."
He took out the Resurrection Stone again, his tone grave.
"When you get this, you must never use it. And if you do, you must be cautious."
"Oh? Why?" Link narrowed his eyes.
He'd had theories about the Hallows.
In his mind, the Resurrection Stone's true function should have been to command an army of souls, maybe even revive the dead in some sense.
The fact that it seemed so weak now must be due to its method of use being lost.
So he had planned, once he got it, to research carefully and see if he could restore its full potential.
But it seemed Dumbledore thought otherwise.
"Because the Resurrection Stone is, in fact, a curse," Dumbledore explained. "Each person who uses it can indeed summon the souls of the dead and speak with them.
But those souls will use the sweetest, most tragic words to beautify death, to describe their suffering, and thereby torment the wielder, until in the end, they tempt them into self-destruction.
You may doubt me. But the fact is, every single user of the Resurrection Stone has destroyed themselves."
Link's face grew grim.
Because he knew Dumbledore was not lying.
In the original story, aside from Harry Potter, the author's golden child, every single user of the stone had indeed ended themselves. Even Dumbledore, who died by Snape's hand, in truth had self-destructed.
Lowering his head, Link asked in a troubled voice, "You knew this. So why did you just use the Resurrection Stone yourself?"
"Ha! That's the terror of the Resurrection Stone." Dumbledore laughed bitterly. "I knew perfectly well it would lead me toward death, and yet I couldn't resist."
"After all, what is death, compared to seeing your lost family again?"
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