"I told Teacher Grindelwald about the prophecy I made about Dumbledore a long time ago, but he didn't care at all."
"What prophecy result?"
Cecatly was very curious. It was really strange that Grindelwald didn't care about Dumbledore.
"I told him that Dumbledore would die."
"…"
Cecatly was silent for a while.
Wasn't that nonsense?
"In this world, everyone will die."
She said, "So your prophecy is basically nonsense. Besides, Dumbledore is already so old."
Jon was also silent. Could he say why Dumbledore would die and when?
Warning Grindelwald was already a very difficult thing to do, alright?
Fortunately, after being together for so long, the two of them could be considered to have a tacit understanding and changed the topic at the same time.
In any case, there were some things that they didn't need to deal with now.
"Okay, let's get started. We have to hurry."
… …
Dumbledore walked in the corridor of Hogwarts.
No one saw him. Myrtle was busy crying, and Ginny, who was running away, didn't notice that someone was behind her and picked up the notebook she threw into the water.
"Not bad black magic item."
After hearing about the Soul Tool, Dumbledore began to check all the records of Jon's subordinates.
No one could hide from the headmaster in Hogwarts, unless the headmaster pretended not to see.
To be able to create something like the Map of Life Points, Naughty Ghost obviously had stronger surveillance abilities than the Map of Life Points. From the day he was created, his mission was destined.
Hogwarts was responsible for all the offensive and defensive facilities, while Naughty Ghost was the best eyesight support and killer.
"But it's still too weak."
Dumbledore threw the notebook under the basin and turned to leave.
If there were no accidents, Harry would get the notebook soon.
Then, the first battle could begin.
… …
"Is Lohat the best flatterer you've ever seen?"
Ron was obviously very dissatisfied with this. He and Harry left the dormitory and began to go upstairs to the castle.
Snape gave them so much homework that Harry thought he would not be able to finish it until the sixth grade.
Ron was about to say that he really regretted not asking Hermione how many rat tails should be added to the Rebirth Potion for it to work, when they suddenly heard an angry shout from upstairs.
"What happened?"
"It's Filch."
Harry whispered.
They hurried up the stairs, where no one could see them, and listened.
"Do you think someone was attacked again?" Ron asked nervously.
They stood motionless, craning their heads in the direction of Filch's voice, which was almost hysterical.
"… You're here to give me trouble again! I've been mopping the floor for the entire night, as if I don't have enough work to do! No, this is intolerable. I'm going to find Dumbledore … "
Filch's footsteps gradually faded away, and they heard a door slam in the distance.
Behind the door, Filch, who had just finished his act, saw the letter for the fast correspondence course that the owl had just delivered to him on his desk, and threw it into the trash can.
Recently, the things that Dumbledore asked him to act were getting stranger and stranger, and he did not have time to practice the introductory magic lessons.
It was strange, but he always felt that he could become a powerful Wizard if he worked a little harder. There seemed to be something in the air calling out to him. That existence seemed to be very powerful, mysterious, and powerful.
But when it came to lessons, he should listen to Jon's advice and find Lohat to learn how to act.
… …
Harry and the others poked their heads out from around the corner.
Filch was obviously standing guard at his usual spot, and they had come to the place where Madam Loris was attacked.
They immediately saw why Filch was shouting. A large pool of water had spread across half the corridor, and it seemed that water was still seeping out from under the door of Crying Myrtle's washroom. Now that Filch was no longer yelling, they could hear Myrtle's cries reverberating through the walls of the washroom.
"What's the matter with her now?"
"Let's go and have a look," said Harry. So they hiked their robes above their ankles and stepped through the spreading water to the door with the "Out of Order" sign.
As usual, they turned a blind eye to the notice and walked straight in.
It was hard to believe that Myrtle's cries were louder and more shrill than ever.
She seemed to be hiding in her usual toilet. The washroom was dimly lit, for the gushing water had put out the candles and dampened the walls and floor.
"What's the matter, Myrtle?"
"Who are you?" said Myrtle in a miserable gurgling voice. "Are you going to hit me with something again?"
"Why should I hit you with something?" said Harry, moving on to her cubicle.
"Don't ask me," cried Myrtle, reappearing with a cry, and splashing a greater stream of water on the sodden floor. "I'm sitting here all right, thinking about my own problems, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me —"
"Even if someone does, it won't hurt," said Harry rationally. Harry said reasonably. "I mean, it could have walked right through you, couldn't it?"
Harry put his foot in his mouth.
"Let's all hit Myrtle with books," shrieked Myrtle, inflating herself. "She won't feel it!
If you hit her in the stomach with a book, you'll get ten points!
Fifty if you hit her in the head!
Very good, ha-ha!
What a lovely game, I don't think so! "
"Who hit you with a book, then?" asked Harry.
"I don't know — I was sitting on the toilet seat, thinking of death, and the book just fell off my head."
"There it is," said Myrtle, glaring fiercely at them. "It's all soaked in the water."
Harry and Ron looked in the direction Myrtle was pointing, and saw a small, thin book lying on the floor. Its tattered black cover was soaked through, like everything else in the washroom. Harry stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly put out an arm and held him back.
"What's the matter?"
Asked Harry.
"Are you mad?"
Said Ron. "It could be dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
Said Harry, laughing. "Don't be ridiculous. How could it be dangerous?"
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