Chapter 196: Jackdaw Probe! The Snake is Faking Sleep
"What if it were me?"
Harry stopped in the middle of the corridor, his voice as thin as if it had been ground by a blade.
Ron had been clutching his wand just now, shouting until he was hoarse.
He said that if that thing came out, he would be the first to cast a spell.
But now, Harry only asked one question—what if the one who comes out is me?
Ron's throat suddenly seized up.
McGonagall stood before him, her expression stern, but with worry suppressed deep in her eyes.
The portraits in the corridor all fell silent, and even the sound of the wind through the gaps in the armor seemed to be cut off.
The back of Ron's hand was white with tension, and his wand was nearly snapped in his grip.
After a long while, he said hoarsely, "Then I would call your name first."
Harry's eyes flickered for a moment.
It wasn't a promise to save him.
Nor was it a promise to kill him.
It was to confirm first whether he was still Harry after all.
This sentence hurt more than any comfort.
Snape approached from the shadows, his black robes sweeping across the flagstones.
He stood behind Harry, his wand not put away, his voice as cold as ice.
"Go inside once the touching drama is over. Potter, don't expect others to feel the pain for you."
Harry did not talk back.
The Ethereal Blue Brand on his forehead flashed under the light, as if something were opening its eyes beneath his skin.
The door to the Room of Requirement opened.
The light inside was more dazzling than the corridor.
Inside the Truth Workshop, everyone was waiting for him.
On the long table lay the Jackdaw, Stability Ring, crystal vials, Dementor core fragments, and Boggart core debris.
Those black-silver crow feathers were neatly arranged on the containment rack, as quiet as a row of small knives.
Hermione stood by the blueprints, her face haggard, but her back held very straight.
Draco leaned against a test rack, his fingertip tracing a droplet of water, his gaze complex.
Lupin had already arrived, his face paler than usual.
Dumbledore stood at the other end of the long table, the smile gone from his blue eyes.
Cassius sat in the main seat, his fingertip tapping the silver console.
Once.
Twice.
As if waiting for a late material.
Harry walked in, seeing the Jackdaw first, and then Hermione's blueprints.
Among the dense annotations, one line was heavily circled.
—Preserve Harry's active consciousness.
Harry's breath caught sharply.
Deep in his mind, the remnant soul chuckled.
"Do you see? She treats you like a detachable object, and she even wrote it so seriously."
Harry stared at those words.
In the past, he might have become angry immediately.
But this time, he didn't believe it right away.
Hermione noticed his gaze and said softly, "That was my requirement."
Harry looked up at her.
Hermione gripped her quill, her knuckles turning white.
She didn't explain, nor did she defend herself.
Harry's voice was very soft: "Thank you."
Hermione's grip tightened further.
She didn't say "it's okay."
Because this matter wasn't something that should be brushed off with an "it's okay" in the first place.
Cassius interrupted them: "Sit down."
Harry looked at the operation chair.
It wasn't a hospital bed.
It looked more like an interrogation chair surrounded by alchemy tools.
The armrests, headrest, and foot restraints were all engraved with fine, intersecting blue and silver patterns.
This wasn't treatment.
This was surgery.
And he would be awake for it.
Harry's face grew even paler, but he sat down anyway.
The moment the metal restraints clicked shut, his fingers twitched instinctively.
Snape stood behind him, his wand never lowered.
Dumbledore said in a low voice, "Cassius, before we begin, explain the risks."
Cassius looked up, eyeing Harry.
His voice held no comfort, nor did it try to frighten.
There were only results.
"The Jackdaw test has three possible outcomes."
The workshop fell silent instantly.
"First, a portion of the remnant soul is clipped off. You fall into a brief coma, and upon waking, you'll have a headache, mental fatigue, and possibly short-term memory confusion."
Harry nodded.
"Second, the remnant soul fights back and takes control of your body."
Cassius's fingertip paused on the console.
"At that point, I will first disable your mobility, then forcibly suppress it."
Hermione's face tightened.
Harry's fingers also stiffened.
Cassius continued: "Third, the remnant soul is too deeply entangled with your consciousness. The treatment is suspended."
Harry looked up: "What's the worst-case scenario?"
Dumbledore was about to speak.
Cassius had already answered: "You will die."
The air in the workshop felt as if it had been plunged into ice water.
McGonagall's expression changed.
Lupin closed his eyes for a moment.
Hermione bit her lip, nearly drawing blood.
Cassius looked at Harry and added another sentence: "But I will ensure that the one who dies is the thing that reached out its claws first."
Dumbledore said softly, "Harry, what Cassius means is—"
"No need to sugarcoat it for him."
Harry interrupted him.
Dumbledore's eyes darkened for a moment.
Harry did not look away.
He stared at Cassius and said, "At least Malfoy didn't lie to me."
Snape remained silent.
Sadness flashed in McGonagall's eyes.
The sentence wasn't loud, but it was like a needle, pricking everyone's heart.
Harry took a deep breath: "The test can begin."
He paused, his fingers gripping the armrests tightly.
"But tell me what is happening at every step."
Cassius nodded: "Agreed."
Hermione stepped forward and fastened the Stability Ringaround the outer edge of the Ethereal Blue Brand on Harry's forehead.
Her fingertips were shaking.
But her movements were not erratic.
White lines of unicorn horn powder pressed against the skin.
Red dots of dragon blood powder were hidden within the ring.
The silvery-white residual light left by Lupin's Patronus shrouded the edges of the scar like a thin mist.
Hermione lowered her voice: "If you can still hear me, count prime numbers. Don't respond to it."
Harry was stunned for a moment.
Back in the first-year library, Hermione was always like this.
Using logic to suppress chaos.
Back then, he thought she was too bossy.
Now, however, he felt this voice was steadier than any comfort.
Harry forced a small smile: "Do you really think this is a good time for math problems?"
Hermione looked at him: "Yes."
She said each word deliberately: "Because it doesn't like you thinking."
Cassius raised his hand.
The first dummy core was pushed into the attraction slot.
The Jackdaw didn't swoop down immediately; it only let out a very soft cry.
Beneath Harry's forehead, a wisp of dark red mist slowly emerged.
It didn't rush toward the dummy core.
It only circled the edges, shrinking and trembling.
As if it were truly too weak to move.
Draco frowned: "It doesn't seem to be reacting."
Luna shook her head, her voice airy: "The snake is faking sleep."
Cassius sneered: "I know."
The next moment, he opened a nearby crystal vial.
A trace of a Dementor's aura of despair leaked out.
As soon as the cold touched the edge of the scar, the dark red mist instantly changed.
Like a starving insect, it lunged violently toward the dummy core!
The unicorn horn powder on the outer layer of the dummy core lit up with white light.
The dark red mist shrieked as it was scorched.
The sound was as thin as a needle, piercing straight into everyone's eardrums.
Harry's body suddenly tensed, his jaw clamped shut, and the taste of blood immediately spread over his tongue.
Hermione said sharply: "Predatory response confirmed! It's not weakness, it's baiting!"
Draco's expression also changed.
This thing was acting just now.
It had nearly fooled everyone.
Cassius raised his hand to press down on the console.
Ethereal blue patterns locked down layer by layer, like chains pressing the dark red mist back to the edge of the scar.
Harry's vision went black.
All the sounds around him grew distant.
He gripped the armrests deathly tight and began to count.
"Two..."
Deep in his mind, the remnant soul let out a malevolent hiss.
"They are cutting you, Harry."
Harry's teeth chattered: "Three..."
"They want to strip you bare."
"Five..."
"To leave behind an obedient empty shell."
"Seven..."
The voice crawled along his consciousness.
"Hermione is on his side."
Harry's breathing hitched.
"Ron is afraid of you."
"Eleven..."
"Dumbledore has been using you all along."
The Stability Ring gave a sudden jolt.
A fine crack began to spread from the silvery-white edge.
Hermione's face changed drastically: "Internal emotional fluctuations are intensifying!"
Cassius stared at the dark red mist, his gaze frighteningly cold.
The remnant soul wasn't attacking the Jackdaw.
Nor was it in a hurry to break through the Stability Ring.
It was tearing at the deepest things in Harry's heart.
Humiliation.
Jealousy.
Resentment.
And that tiny bit of doubt that even Harry himself didn't dare to admit.
The Jackdaw could clip the remnant soul.
The Stability Ring could wall off the corruption.
But they couldn't choose for Harry—
Whether or not he would continue to stand his ground.
Chapter 197: The remnant soul Speaks! Call His Name
"Cassius, do you think you are saving him?"
Harry's lips moved.
But the voice was not Harry's.
Young, smooth, with a hint of a smile.
As soon as that smile emerged, the temperature in the workshop seemed to be drained away.
"You are only teaching him to see one thing —"
"He will never be better than you."
Snape's wand raised instantly.
Lupin stood straight, McGonagall covered her mouth, and the hint of weariness in Dumbledore's eyes was suppressed by a chill.
Harry's whole body twitched violently.
A crack on the Stability Ring spread with a "snap".
Hermione stared fixedly at the detection crystal, her voice taut: "It's not an external backlash!"
"It's an internal emotional collapse!"
"It is making Harry actively refuse treatment!"
The remnant soul, using Harry's mouth, laughed slowly.
"Do you see, Harry?"
"Your friends are all standing by, recording how you are being torn apart."
Hermione turned pale.
The remnant soul continued to twist the knife: "Grangerdoesn't care if you hurt or not, she only cares if the blueprints can work."
"And Weasley?"
"He can't even get through this door, what can he use to save you?"
This sentence was like a hook, digging directly into Harry's heart.
Draco gripped the water droplet, his eyes turning cold: "Shut up."
The remnant soul turned to him, laughing even more softly.
"Little Malfoy, you are even more ridiculous."
"You always stand behind him, like a dog waiting for its master's praise."
Draco's eyes sharpened, the water droplet at his fingertips tightening suddenly.
Cassius raised his hand, blocking in front of him.
"Don't be led by it."
The voice was not loud, but it pressed Draco back to his place.
The remnant soul's smile lowered, as if drilling in right next to Harry's ear.
"They are all afraid of you, Harry."
"Afraid you'll lose control, afraid you'll be a burden, afraid you'll become me."
Harry squeezed a groan of pain from his throat.
The remnant soul was even gentler.
"But I'm not afraid of you."
"I know what you want."
"You want to win."
"You want to step on Cassius."
"You want Dumbledore to admit he was wrong."
Dumbledore's fingers gripping his wand tightened slightly.
"He treats you as a pawn, yet cannot cultivate anyone who can truly protect you."
Veins popped on Harry's forehead.
"Stop..."
The voice was as low as if crushed.
The remnant soul did not stop.
"Why not?"
"You are jealous of Granger, because she got Malfoy's workshop."
Hermione's fingers trembled violently.
"You are jealous of Draco, because he has a family, has brothers, has people who would overturn the entire school for him."
Draco's face was terrifyingly dark.
"You are jealous of everyone who is chosen."
"And you?"
"You are just a boy thrown out by fate to block a knife."
Snap.
A second crack opened on the Stability Ring.
Hermione rushed to the console, pressing both hands on the protection spell circuit.
The white line of unicorn horn powder began to dim.
She gritted her teeth and shouted: "Cassius, you can't clamp it directly!"
"Harry's consciousness hasn't stabilized yet!"
Snape stepped forward half a step, his voice like the back of a blade slamming down.
"Potter!"
"Count!"
Harry heard it.
But his vision was already a mess.
The staircase cupboard.
The disgusted look of his aunt and uncle.
That casual glance from Cassius in Diagon Alley.
The blood from the Basilisk being torn apart by hand in the Chamber of Secrets.
The fake applause in the Great Hall.
Everyone called him The Savior.
But Harry knew better than anyone.
He hadn't achieved anything.
A collision suddenly came from outside the door.
"Move!"
McGonagall's voice was urgent and angry: "Mr. Weasley!"
The next second, Ron broke through the obstruction, stumbling into the workshop.
His face was flushed red, his eyes full of fear.
But he still rushed to a position where he could see Harry.
"Harry!"
Ron shouted at the top of his lungs: "You losing to Malfoyis not because you have no value!"
This was not a pretty thing to say.
It was even absurdly clumsy.
But somehow, it smashed right into Harry's torn-open wound.
Harry's green eyes brightened briefly.
The remnant soul screamed: "Don't listen to him! Pity is weakness!"
Ron was so anxious his voice trembled.
"Who's pitying you!"
"If you lost, you lost!"
"But losing doesn't mean you're trash!"
He roared out in one breath: "We all lost to him! The whole school lost to him! What's shameful about that?"
The workshop was dead silent for a moment.
Draco's mouth twitched: "Weasley, you really know how to comfort people."
This wave of comfort was as hard as a brick.
But Hermione's eyes reddened instantly.
Harry's lips trembled.
The remnant soul's voice was shrill and piercing: "Shut up! He's lying to you!"
Harry squeezed a voice from between his teeth.
"Thirteen..."
Hermione looked up suddenly: "He's back!"
"Seventeen..."
Harry's voice was very soft.
But those two words were like nails, nailing him back into his own body.
"Nineteen..."
A deep blue light suddenly lit up in Cassius's eyes.
He spat out only two words.
"Now."
Jackdaw officially activated.
On the storage rack, the black-silver crow feathers flew up silently, falling above the traction slot.
There was no explosion.
No dazzling light.
Only a short, Jackdaw call.
"Caw."
The tip of the crow feather pierced directly above the Stability Ring.
The deep blue seal instantly locked onto the dark red mist.
The gray-black core pressed down from the side, like an iron hook snagging rotting fabric, pulling it out hard.
Harry arched his body violently.
As if his whole person was being dragged out from his bones.
Lupin gritted his teeth and raised his wand.
A wisp of silver-white wolf shadow barely appeared, blocking the edge of Harry's consciousness.
Hermione pressed both hands on the console.
High temperature and chill bit into her fingers at the same time, yet she adjusted the protection spell grid by grid.
"Do not touch the silver-white circuit!"
"Only pull the dark red edge!"
She looked sharply at Cassius: "The left traction is too strong!"
Cassius did not frown, nor did he refute.
His fingertips shifted.
The Jackdaw traction moved half an inch immediately.
A wisp of dark red mist was forcibly pulled off.
Screams exploded on the spot.
All the crystal bottles in the workshop vibrated simultaneously.
The Dementor fragments in the bottles were like insects smelling blood, crashing frantically against the bottle walls.
Draco's face turned pale, but he didn't step back an inch.
Right in this chaotic noise, a thin dark red line crawled out along the ground, rushing straight toward the storage cabinet.
The target — the core of despair.
Draco's eyes turned cold.
"Trying to steal?"
The water droplet at his fingertips instantly stretched into an extremely thin Water Cut.
Swish.
The water line sliced through the air, precisely severing that thin dark red line.
The thin line fell to the ground, like a scorched insect, twisting twice.
Cassius pressed down casually.
Deep blue magic fell, crushing it into ash.
The remnant soul was furious: "Do you think you can win?"
Cassius looked calmly at the dark red debris in the crystal bottle.
"Already won one piece."
The second crow call sounded.
The gray-black core of the Jackdaw tightened again.
Harry's eyes rolled back, veins popping on his forehead.
Hermione's voice was hoarse: "Harry, keep counting!"
Harry could barely hear.
But Ron was still shouting.
"Harry!"
"Harry! Keep counting if you can hear me!"
Ron's throat was almost broken from shouting.
"Twenty-three..."
Harry's voice was broken beyond recognition.
But he was still there.
The Jackdaw pulled violently.
The second remnant soul fragment was forcibly clamped out.
The dark red fragment twisted in mid-air, desperately trying to shrink back into Harry's forehead.
The deep blue seal pressed down on the spot.
The white line of unicorn horn powder also lit up with a faint white light, locking it tightly.
Cassius raised his hand, pressing the fragment into the crystal bottle.
The bottle seal closed.
Everyone thought this phase was finally over.
But just before the seal was completely locked.
In the center of the dark red fragment, a broken image suddenly emerged.
An old house.
Damp walls.
A thin, small boy squatting in front of a stone crevice.
In the boy's hand, he hid a black ring.
Dumbledore's expression changed drastically.
Cassius narrowed his eyes.
Hermione's quill stopped in mid-air: "What is that?"
Snape stared at that ring, his voice sinking.
"A memory."
Luna stood by the storage rack and said softly: "The little black bird didn't just pull out a bug."
"It also pulled out the old nest where the bug was hiding."
Harry had already fainted.
But his fingers suddenly gripped the edge of the table tightly.
Creak.
Fine marks were gouged into the table edge.
Before anyone could react, Harry slowly raised his head.
Those green eyes had no focus.
But the corners of his lips slowly pulled apart.
Revealing a smile that did not belong to Harry.
Chapter 198: The Invitation Reveals Itself! Shadow of the Black Ring
"What you found isn't a clue; it's an invitation."
Harry's voice was very low, yet it sent a chill down the spines of everyone in the Workshop.
Snape's wand was pressed almost directly against the center of Harry's brow.
McGonagall's face was deathly pale, and Lupin's silvery-white wolf shadow trembled on the spot.
Dumbledore stared at the fragmented memory surfacing within the remnant soul shard, the shock in his eyes no longer concealable.
Cassius did not look at Harry.
His gaze fell upon the dark red shard in the center of the crystal bottle.
An old house.
A thin, small boy.
A black ring within a crack in the stone.
Cassius, of course, knew what that was.
The Gaunt Shack.
The Resurrection Stone ring.
One of the Horcruxes.
Voldemort had torn his soul into fragments, hiding them within relics he deemed noble.
The diary had already been tortured by Cassius to the point of near-dissipation.
The piece inside Harry's forehead was currently being stripped away by the Jackdaw.
And now, the Jackdaw had torn a clue about a Horcruxfrom the remnant soul.
This was far more valuable than simply extracting the remnant soul.
And far more dangerous.
Because the remnant soul was not an unconscious lump of flesh.
It could set traps.
Dumbledore spoke in a heavy voice, "Severus, don't move."
Snape did not lower his wand. "Principal, it is still speaking through Potter."
"Precisely because of that, do not provoke it." Dumbledore's voice was much lower than usual.
Harry's hands were still gripping the edge of the table, his fingernails turning white from the pressure.
The remnant soul smiled through that pale face, its voice sounding as if it came from a great distance.
"Albus, you are still so easily attracted by secrets. Seeing a ring, does it remind you of those old stories? Death, resurrection, atonement, regret... You always have no resistance to these words."
Dumbledore's fingers stiffened slightly.
Snape noticed immediately, and his expression changed.
Hermione also looked up sharply.
Cassius finally spoke: "Don't chat with it."
The remnant soul turned toward Cassius, its smile deepening. "Don't you want to know? Don't you love tearing everything apart to see what's inside? I can give you more. The ring, the cup, the locket, the diadem... every single one is more interesting than that little bird in your hand."
Hermione's pupils constricted.
Draco cursed under his breath, "It's setting bait."
Cassius raised his hand.
Ethereal blue magic pressed down on Harry's shoulders; it didn't harm him, but it rendered the body unable to struggle further.
"I said, stop talking nonsense."
The remnant soul's smile faltered.
In the next instant, the Jackdaw pressed down on the crystal bottle once more.
The dark red shard twisted frantically inside the bottle, and the memory images began to blur.
Dumbledore suddenly took a step forward. "Wait."
Cassius looked sideways at him.
Dumbledore's voice was tight. "That memory must be preserved."
Cassius said coolly, "It is using the memory to lure you in."
Dumbledore did not deny it.
"I know."
Cassius's eyes grew a bit colder. "You know, yet you still reach out?"
Dumbledore looked at the image of the black ring, the exhaustion on his face showing a crack that was almost painful for the first time.
"There are some things I must confirm."
Snape frowned. "Albus."
Dumbledore did not look at Snape.
Hermione suddenly interjected, "We can copy the image without touching the shard itself."
Everyone looked at her.
Hermione forced herself to calm down, quickly pointing to a blank crystal slide next to the console. "Use an observation crystal to record the outer images. Don't read the internal memory, and don't let anyone's magic directly touch the dark red shard. As long as the images aren't contaminated, we can at least preserve the clue."
Cassius gave Hermione a look.
"Do it."
Hermione set to work immediately.
Draco cooperated by pushing the sealing crystal over, Norahanded over a recording clip, and Luna stood nearby staring at the crystal bottle, saying softly, "It's happy. It thinks someone is about to bite the hook."
Cassius sneered, "Then we'll dismantle the hook as well."
Threads of ethereal blue magic extended from Cassius's fingertips, precisely latching onto the outer layer of the dark red shard.
It wasn't reading; it was sealing the edges.
Hermione pressed the observation crystal against the bottle wall; with a flash of silver light, the images of the old house were imprinted.
The footage was very short.
It only showed the thin boy hiding the ring in the stone crack and glancing back once outside the door.
The boy's face was blurred, but that look in his eyes—a mix of vigilance, malice, and pride—told everyone present exactly who it was.
Tom Riddle.
The moment the observation was complete, the remnant soul suddenly shrieked.
The dark red shard swelled violently, attempting to contaminate the crystal bottle.
Hermione's expression changed. "It's going to self-destruct!"
Cassius closed his fingers.
The ethereal blue seal thickened instantly, and the pull from the grey-black core of despair latched onto the dark red shard in reverse, pinning it back to the bottom of the bottle.
The crystal bottle emitted fine cracking sounds.
Draco immediately snapped a spare goblin steel ring onto it.
"It's not holding!"
Cassius pressed down with his hand, and the entire bottle was wrapped in ethereal blue patterns.
The dark red shard was compressed until it was only the size of a fingernail, yet it was still laughing.
"You will go."
The remnant soul's voice was as thin as a poisonous needle.
"You will definitely go. Because you all want to win. Albuswants to atone, Potter wants freedom, Granger wants to prove herself, and Malfoy wants to dismantle me."
Harry's body suddenly went limp, falling back into the operating chair.
The remnant soul's voice vanished.
Only the sound of the crystal bottle's faint vibration remained in the Workshop.
Madam Pomfrey rushed forward immediately to check on Harry.
"He's alive, but his consciousness is very weak. He must be sent back to the Hospital Wing."
Hermione's face was terrifyingly white. "The Stability Ringhas forty percent damage, but the silver-white circuits are still there. Harry's consciousness hasn't been drained."
Madam Pomfrey glared at her. "I don't need to hear these fancy words. I want him to wake up and still know who he is."
Hermione pursed her lips and did not argue.
Dumbledore stared at the image of the old house in the observation crystal, looking as if he had aged many years all at once.
Snape saw Dumbledore's expression, his tone growing even colder. "You recognize that place."
Dumbledore said softly, "Perhaps."
Cassius placed the sealed remnant soul shard onto the storage rack.
"Not perhaps. The Gaunt Shack."
Dumbledore looked sharply at Cassius.
Snape also turned his head.
Hermione was stunned. "You know?"
Cassius did not explain how he knew; he simply pushed the observation crystal in front of Dumbledore.
"The clue it gave might not be false. The real trap lies in how you choose to go and get it."
Dumbledore fell silent.
McGonagall said uneasily, "If that is a Horcrux, we cannot allow it to remain out there."
Cassius said indifferently, "Whether we can allow it depends on who goes."
Dumbledore understood his meaning.
If Dumbledore went personally, then the words the remnant soul just spoke were not nonsense.
It knew Dumbledore's weaknesses all too well.
Death, resurrection, atonement, regret.
To Dumbledore, these were never just ordinary words.
Snape said coldly, "So the best outcome tonight is that we've ripped a piece of the Dark Lord's soul out of Potter's head, only to gain a trap specifically designed for the Principal?"
Draco whispered, "Sounds very Hogwarts."
McGonagall glared at Draco.
Lupin rubbed his brow tiredly. "What about Harry?"
Cassius looked at the Ethereal Blue Brand on Harry's forehead.
The brand was still there, but the dark red mist was significantly less than before.
This proved the Jackdaw was effective.
But the remnant soul had also completely stopped hiding as of tonight.
"We continue tomorrow," Cassius said.
Madam Pomfrey said angrily, "No! He needs to rest at the very least."
Cassius looked at her. "Then let him rest until he is awake enough to hear the risks."
Madam Pomfrey's expression softened slightly, but she remained stern. "I will put that statement in the records."
Cassius didn't care.
Hermione walked over to Harry and said in a low voice, "I will modify the Stability Ring. Next time, I won't let it strike through his emotions so easily."
Snape said coldly, "You'd best remember, Miss Granger, that Potter is not your alchemy project."
Hermione looked up, her eyes tired but firm. "I remember. That is exactly why I will continue to modify it."
Outside the door, Ron heard that Harry was still alive and slid down against the wall, finally able to breathe.
Luna looked at the Jackdaw on the storage rack and said softly, "The little black bird has eaten snake scales. Next time, they will fly even truer."
Cassius picked up the observation crystal.
Within the crystal, the shadows of the old house were still.
Yet the black ring in the stone crack seemed to flash faintly in the darkness.
Dumbledore reached out to take it.
Cassius did not give it to him immediately.
Their gazes met under the Workshop lights.
Cassius spoke calmly, "If you want to go to the Gaunt Shack, fine. But this time, don't mistake your old wounds for judgment."
Dumbledore's hand stopped in mid-air.
Just then, on the bottom layer of the storage rack, the old bottle containing the remains of the diary's remnant soulsuddenly developed a silent, fine crack.
A wisp of dark red mist seeped out along the fracture.
Chapter 199: The Cracked Old Bottle! That is the Regret Medicine Feeding You
"Tick."
It was so faint it was almost inaudible.
But amidst the vibration of crystal bottles and the echoes of screaming remnant souls throughout the room, this sound was like an ice needle piercing everyone's eardrums.
The Workshop fell into instant silence.
Hermione's quill stopped in mid-air.
Ink dripped, blooming into a black spot on the parchment.
Snape gripped his wand, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
His gaze snapped away from the unconscious Harry, pinning like a blade to the bottom shelf of the storage rack.
There, an old crystal bottle had cracked.
The label on the bottle had already yellowed, yet it was so piercingly bright it made one's heart turn cold.
—Extremely Dangerous: T.M. Riddle diary Remnants.
A fine crack silently spread across the body of the bottle.
A wisp of dark red mist slowly seeped out from the crack.
It did not dissipate.
It circled and contracted in the air like a venomous snake that had just woken up, searching for its first prey.
Even more eerie was—
All the crystal bottles in the Workshop containing Dementor fragments stopped at the same time.
The bottles that had been vibrating, crashing, and screaming just a moment ago were now as quiet as dead things.
It felt as if a pack of hyenas tearing at their prey had suddenly caught the scent of a lion king.
"Damn it!"
Snape stepped in front of Harry and Ron, his wand held horizontally.
His expression was so dark it looked like it could drip poison.
Dumbledore's face also darkened.
The agitation brought by the memory of the black ringhadn't yet dissipated, and now it was being suppressed by this even older, colder aura.
That chill wasn't aimed at the body.
It was aimed at the soul.
Lupin's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice sounding raspy: "It's awake."
It wasn't that he hadn't seen a Dementor before.
But the pressure brought by this wisp of mist even surpassed the combined total of the dozens of Dementorfragments from earlier.
Professor McGonagall's knuckles turned white from gripping so hard.
Hermione, however, was staring intently at the Recording Crystal beside the workstation.
Silver light flickered.
Her pupils suddenly contracted.
"Something's wrong!"
Her voice trembled, but she forcibly suppressed her fear.
"Its target isn't Harry!"
Everyone's hearts jolted.
That wisp of dark red mist didn't pounce on the nearest person, Harry.
It twisted and stretched in mid-air, actually beginning to mimic the outline of that black ring memory from just now.
The shadow of a dilapidated house.
Damp cracks in the walls.
A cold doorframe.
It was reconstructing the Gaunt Shack!
"What is it trying to do?" McGonagall said, her voice failing her.
The next second, Cassius moved.
He didn't retreat.
Nor did he raise his voice.
He walked straight to the storage rack and reached out to press down on the cracked crystal bottle.
*Click.*
The bottle was firmly pressed back into its storage slot by him.
Eerie blue magic patterns instantly covered the bottle, locking into the cracks like chains and forcibly sealing the gap.
But Cassius did not crush the wisp of dark red mist that had already escaped.
Everyone watched him.
Not destroying it at a time like this?
Is he mad?
Cassius didn't even blink.
"Don't let it go to waste."
His voice was as cold as a blade scraping across ice.
"Since it crawled out on its own to show us the way, then record every step it takes."
The air in the Workshop suddenly froze.
What others saw as a catastrophic disaster,
In his eyes, was actually experimental material delivered to his doorstep.
This move was ridiculously dangerous.
But it was also ridiculously high-yield.
Hermione bit the tip of her tongue hard, forcing herself to stay sharp.
She restarted the observation crystal.
"Hum—"
The silver light focused, locking onto the wisp of dark red mist trapped in mid-air by an invisible force field.
In the next instant, an incredible change occurred.
That ancient remnant soul from the diary actually resonated with the new remnant soul fragment just stripped from Harry's forehead!
The image of the Gaunt Shack on the observation crystalsuddenly became clear.
Water seeping from damp stone cracks.
That ominous black stone on the ring.
The blurred snake-shaped carvings on the doorframe.
Every detail was imprinted and magnified, as if someone had forcibly brightened a blurry nightmare.
Hermione sucked in a cold breath.
"Oh my god..."
Her fingers pressed against the edge of the crystal, her voice shaking uncontrollably.
"It's completing the intelligence?"
Draco stood to the side, his face pale.
That feeling of having one's soul seen through from the inside out made him almost want to retreat.
But he forced himself not to move, only cursing in a low voice:
"It's not being that kind."
These words were like a bucket of cold water poured over everyone's heads.
Dumbledore, however, was already staring fixedly at that ring.
His gaze was no longer calm.
The carvings on that black ring were like a hand reaching out from the depths of memory, clutching his throat.
He subconsciously took a step forward, his hand reaching toward the observation crystal.
*Hum!*
An eerie blue seal appeared in front of him.
Dumbledore's hand stopped in mid-air.
Cassius turned and looked at him.
"Principal."
Two words, without respect, but also without provocation.
Only a reminder.
Dumbledore did not withdraw his hand.
his fingertips trembled slightly.
Cassius stared into his eyes, enunciating every word:
"It is not giving you clues."
The Workshop was so quiet that only the sound of magic flowing remained.
Cassius continued:
"It is feeding you regret."
This sentence was like a hammer smashing into Dumbledore's chest.
The old man did not argue.
His face, which always carried a gentle smile, now held only suppression.
Pain welled up from the depths of his eyes, only to be forcibly pressed back down by him.
But everyone saw it.
He had almost lost control.
Snape's eyes darkened, and he understood instantly.
That black ring.
What it involved was by no means an ordinary clue.
It was a past that Dumbledore would rather take to his grave than let anyone touch.
The remnant soul's trap had not been aimed at Harry from the very beginning.
The person it truly wanted to bite was this seemingly invincible White Wizard.
"Hermione."
Cassius's voice cut through the dead silence.
Hermione snapped back to her senses: "Here!"
"Propose a plan."
Just four short words compressed all the fear into a command.
Hermione took a deep breath.
Her brain whirred at high speed under the extreme pressure.
"We can seal the reactions of the two remnant souls separately!"
She spoke quickly, but without a single word out of place.
"On one side, use the observation crystal to continue imprinting the images 'fed' out by the diary remnant soul, maximizing the preservation of clues."
"On the other side, use this newly stripped remnant soulfragment to test the stripping method for the 'Memory Shell'."
"As long as we find a way to locate Horcruxes without triggering the traps, we can reverse-track them!"
This plan was very greedy.
It wanted to consume the intelligence sent out by the remnant soul while also bypassing the hook it had buried.
But right now, this was the optimal solution.
"Approved."
Cassius did not hesitate for even half a second.
He turned to the group, his orders clicking together like gears.
"Draco, Protective Waterline."
"Any trace of magic leakage: cut it, evaporate it."
Draco's eyes sharpened.
Water droplets condensed at his fingertips, instantly stretching into a ring of invisible sharp blades surrounding the storage area.
His lips tightened as he said in a low voice: "Understood."
"Nora."
Cassius looked toward the corner.
"Record all abnormal fluctuations of the Dementorfragments."
"I want to know the resonance frequency of these two types of dark creatures."
The consistently quiet Nora Holt nodded.
She flipped open a fresh sheet of parchment, and her quill immediately began to move rapidly.
"Yes."
"Luna."
Cassius finally looked at the silver-haired girl.
Luna was still staring at the crystal bottle.
Her gaze was drifting, yet it was as if she were seeing things others could not.
"Watch it."
Cassius said.
"Tell me exactly who it's trying to deceive."
Luna blinked her protuberant eyes and said softly:
"It wants to trick an old bird who has worn too many rings."
The voice was very light.
Yet it made a chill run down Hermione's back.
She abruptly looked at Dumbledore.
The answer was already before her eyes.
The trap was still there.
And because the diary remnant soul had awakened, it had become even more lethal.
At this moment, the Jackdaw Workshop was no longer a temporary laboratory.
It began to operate.
The observation crystal locked onto the remnant soul.
The Protective Waterline cut off leakages.
The parchment recorded fluctuations.
Everyone was pushed into their positions like precision-fitted parts in a war machine.
And the commander of this machine stood before the most dangerous remnant soul.
He was calm, cold, and did not even have a trace of superfluous emotion.
It was as if the thing sealed in the bottle was the prey.
As if the person truly dominating the chessboard had never been that Dark Lord.
But Cassius.
Chapter 200: The Dean's Wrath! The Savior's Self-Doubt
The door to the Hospital Wing was slammed shut heavily.
"Bang!"
That sound seemed to cut off all further questioning.
Madam Pomfrey stood before the hospital bed, her wand held across her chest, her eyes so fierce she looked ready to bite.
As Albus Dumbledore took a step forward, her wand was already pointed at him.
"Six hours!"
Her voice was extremely low, yet more terrifying than a shout.
"Mr. Potter must sleep for at least six full hours!"
"Until then, no one—and I mean no one—is allowed to mention a single word about 'Jackdaw'!"
Snape's expression was gloomy.
Dumbledore remained silent.
But this time, no one contradicted Madam Pomfrey.
Because Harry, lying on the bed, was as pale as paper.
He had woken for a fleeting moment before being brought here.
At that time, his ears were filled with a jumble of words.
"Gaunt Shack."
"the ring."
"Horcrux."
He didn't understand any of the words.
Yet every word felt like a cold hand, tightly strangling his throat.
He didn't rush to ask questions like he had in the past.
He didn't ask if he had saved someone again.
Nor did he use that paranoid courage to prove he could still stand.
He only used his last bit of strength to grab Ron's sleeve.
"Ron..."
His voice was so soft it was almost swallowed by his breath.
Ron immediately bent down.
"I'm here, Harry, I'm here."
Harry stared at him, his emerald eyes filled with fear.
"Just now... was I still me?"
Ron froze.
This question was more cruel than any Dark Arts.
His face flushed, his lips moved several times, but he couldn't squeeze out a single word.
He wanted to say "Of course."
He wanted to say "Don't overthink it."
But Harry was looking at him.
Those eyes were waiting for the truth.
Ron swallowed hard and tightened his grip on Harry's cold hand.
"For a moment..."
His voice was raspy.
"No."
The light in Harry's eyes dimmed instantly.
Panic flared in Ron's chest, and he immediately added,
"But later you were!"
He almost shouted it.
"You cursed that bastard's voice back yourself, Harry."
"It was you who cursed it back, no one else."
The Hospital Wing was terrifyingly quiet.
Harry looked at Ron.
This friend, whom he had once found annoying, stupid, and a burden, was currently too clumsy to even fabricate a comfort.
Yet, it was precisely this awkward truth that pulled him back from the edge of the abyss.
Harry did not let go.
Nor did he push Ron away.
He just gave a very, very slight nod.
Ron's hands were rough, his palms still bearing thin calluses from training.
Yet they were as warm as a rope.
The first rope to tether Harry back to himself.
By the bed, Snape rarely didn't open his mouth to mock.
He stared fixedly at Harry's pale face.
That look was like a pot of ruined Potion.
Disgust, fear, irritability.
And a hint of protectiveness that even he himself refused to admit.
A moment later, he pulled two bottles of Potion from his robes and set them stiffly on the bedside table.
The glass hit the wood with two crisp clinks.
"For mental stability."
His voice still sounded like a razor blade.
"Drink them when you wake up."
Harry turned his eyes with difficulty.
Snape looked at him coldly.
"Don't let that thing borrow your mouth to say another word."
With that, he turned and left.
His black robes whipped through the air with a trail of anger.
Harry listened to the receding footsteps, his fingertips tightening slightly.
He could hear it.
Snape hated Lord Voldemort.
That kind of hatred was like it was carved into his bones, impossible to scrape clean.
But this time, he also heard something else.
Very awkward.
Very harsh.
Roughly translated, it meant—
Don't die in front of me and cause me trouble.
This was already the closest thing to concern that Severus Snape could offer.
That night, the Headmaster's Office was as cold as if it were covered in frost.
Dumbledore summoned Snape, McGonagall, and Lupin, who had just rushed over from the Workshop.
Fawkes huddled on his perch, shaking his feathers uneasily.
The silver instruments on the desk were still spinning, but their light was much dimmer than usual.
No one spoke first.
Until Dumbledore took off his half-moon glasses and rubbed his brow.
"Tom..."
His voice was very weary.
"He may have torn his soul more than once."
As the words fell, the air seemed to be sucked out of the Headmaster's Office.
"More than once?"
Snape looked up sharply.
The next second, he slammed a palm onto the desk.
"Bang!"
The silver instruments jumped from the vibration.
"You told me before that it was just an accident!"
Snape could no longer suppress his voice.
"Residue left over from a Dark Arts accident!"
He stared fixedly at Dumbledore, fire almost burning in his eyes.
"But now you're telling me the Dark Lord might have torn his soul more than once?"
"Albus, what on earth are you thinking?!"
Lupin's face was white.
Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed into a thin line.
Snape took a step forward, his voice even colder.
"You let a child walk around your school for two whole years with a damn soul fragment of the Dark Lord!"
"Two whole years!"
As these words crashed down, even the portraits went silent.
Dumbledore did not argue.
This was worse than any defense.
Professor McGonagall finally spoke.
"Albus."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was as hard as iron.
"I agree with Severus."
Dumbledore slowly raised his eyes.
McGonagall did not back down.
"We have previously seriously underestimated the risks."
"From now on, every subsequent step of Harry Potter's treatment must have detailed written records and risk assessments."
She spoke word by word.
"And it must be jointly signed by the three of us."
It wasn't a discussion.
It was an ultimatum.
Snape gave a cold laugh.
Lupin didn't speak, but his silence said everything.
For the first time, a rift had appeared in the Professor camp.
Not because an enemy had invaded Hogwarts.
But because Cassius Malfoy had forced the hidden truth out in front of everyone.
Dumbledore looked at them.
He looked at these people who had worked with him for years and stood side by side against the darkness.
The anger and disappointment on their faces required no translation.
He knew.
He was losing their trust.
And the instigator of all this had no interest in listening to the argument in the Headmaster's Office right now.
Inside the Jackdaw Workshop, Cassius stood alone before the observation crystal.
In the crystal, images of the Gaunt Shack surfaced repeatedly.
The dilapidated eaves.
The cold, dark corridors.
And that the ring entwined with dark energy.
Cassius's fingertips brushed across the cold crystal surface.
There wasn't a single flicker of emotion in his eyes.
The diary.
The the ring.
The locket.
The golden cup.
The ravenclaws diadem.
Harry.
And that snake.
Seven Horcruxes.
Not a single one missing.
All of them were on his map.
Tonight, the others were desperately trying to pull a single clue out of the darkness.
But for Cassius, this web had long been spread out.
The question now wasn't "Are there any?"
But—
Which one to slaughter first.
On the other side, Hermione was still organizing data.
Her quill moved rapidly across the parchment, the ink marks almost merging into one.
She forced herself not to recall Harry's eyes that had briefly turned into those of a stranger.
The more she thought, the colder she felt.
The colder she felt, the more she had to write.
"Gaunt Shack..."
Hermione said in a low voice.
"I think I've seen a similar description in 'Hogwarts: A History'."
"That place might be related to the source of the Slytherinbloodline."
Cassius did not look back.
He only said flatly:
"Horcruxes. There is more than one."
The quill stopped abruptly.
The tip tore through the parchment, dragging a jarring ink stain.
Hermione looked up.
The color in her face faded away completely.
"More than... one?"
Those words were like a hand pressing directly onto the back of her neck.
Tonight, they had exerted all their strength just to tear a remnant soul fragment off Harry.
They had only just stabilized the reaction of the diary's remnant soul.
They had only just touched the shadow of the Gaunt Shackand the the ring.
And now, Cassius was telling her—
This was just the tip of the iceberg.
Voldemort's soul might still be hidden in various corners of the wizarding world.
In the form of items.
In the form of curses.
Even in the form of human lives.
Hermione's knuckles tightened bit by bit.
The parchment was crumpled in her grip.
Her breathing was erratic for a few seconds.
Only for a few seconds.
The next moment, she picked up the quill again.
The tip fell heavily.
"Then 'Jackdaw' must be changed."
Her voice was raspy, yet incredibly steady.
"It can't just be about stripping the remnant soul."
"It must be changed to a version that can strip the memory shell."
She looked up at Cassius.
Traces of fear remained in her eyes, but they were already suppressed by something sharper.
"As long as they have been hidden, they must have left a trail."
"If there's more than one, then we dig them out one by one."
"It's worth it."
Cassius finally turned his head.
The cold light of the Workshop fell into his eyes, reflecting a very faint smile.
Fear had not crushed her.
The truth had not frightened her away.
Instead, it had made her start upgrading the weapon.
This was the partner he wanted.
Not a hero who only shouted slogans.
But someone who, after seeing the abyss, could still pick up a pen and calculate how to dismantle it.
In the observation crystal, the image of the Gaunt Shackflashed again.
That the ring gleamed slightly in the darkness.
Like some kind of invitation.
And also like some kind of warning.
Cassius withdrew his hand, his voice very soft.
"Then upgrade Jackdaw."
"Next time, we won't wait for the Horcrux to speak."
"We will make it spit out its secrets itself."