The spellbook Arthur took out was nearly ten centiters thick.
Despite its heft, it actually recorded only a handful of basic glintstone sorceries.
Glintstone magic was fundantally different from the magic used in the modern wizarding world.
Wizarding magic had a low barrier to entry. As long as one morized the incantation and wand movent, even a first-year student could successfully cast a spell or two through self-study.
Glintstone sorcery, on the other hand, demanded a massive amount of theoretical knowledge just to get started.
Back then, even Hermione had spent quite so ti studying before she fully mastered the basic glintstone spells Arthur taught her.
Snape took the spellbook from Arthur and flipped through it briefly.
This book was a teaching manual Arthur had personally compiled—covering everything from foundational theory to casting techniques.
It even included animated illustrations demonstrating spell effects.
Those images felt oddly familiar to Snape.
Weren't these the very spells Arthur had used during their duel in Snape's second year?
Although only a small portion was shown, it still made Snape wonder whether Arthur had casually brought out sothing akin to a family inheritance.
Given how sensitive the topic of magical legacies was, Snape didn't ask any questions. Instead, he quietly continued reading.
Before he realized it, he was completely absorbed.
The theories presented were novel and highly stimulating, offering him a wealth of inspiration.
After all, Snape was soone who had invented Sectumsempra while still a student—his talent in spell creation was second to none.
Given enough ti, he was confident he could develop entirely new spells based on the theories in this book.
Seeing Snape so engrossed, Arthur didn't disturb him. He turned and left the office.
All that remained now was to wait until Snape was ready—then choose a night filled with brilliant starlight to carry out the transformation.
After leaving Snape's office, Arthur learned from a student that Dumbledore was looking for him.
That was unusual.
Why wasn't that old scher chasing after his precious Savior of the Wizarding World—why co looking for him instead?
With curiosity, Arthur made his way to the headmaster's office.
When Dumbledore saw him, he smiled warmly.
"You're here. Sit down, please."
Arthur sat on the sofa.
"What did you want to see about?"
"Primarily the second task of the Triwizard Tournant," Dumbledore replied.
"And while we're at it, I thought we might have a little chat."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"What does the second task have to do with ? Don't tell you want to be the one waiting underwater to be rescued?"
"Oh?" Dumbledore chuckled. "So you already know what the second task is. Did Severus tell you?"
Arthur waved it off.
"Sothing like that."
He couldn't exactly say he'd read the script.
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "It's exactly as you suspect. We need you to remain underwater for a while. After all, the person Hermione cares about most is you."
Arthur thought about it. Visiting the rfolk as a guest didn't sound too bad. He was actually curious what Hermione's expression would be when she saw him underwater.
He nodded.
"Alright. I'll go down when the ti cos."
Seeing Arthur agree so easily, Dumbledore added,
"If possible, please refrain from harming the rfolk in the Black Lake. Since several of their kin disappeared a few years ago, their numbers have already dwindled."
The words were polite—but the subtext was clear.
Please stop tornting them. At this rate, they'll go extinct.
Dumbledore had his suspicions about the disappearances. They almost certainly had sothing to do with Arthur—he just lacked evidence.
And even if he had proof… what could he really do?
Arthur nodded silently.
Truth be told, the missing rfolk were entirely his doing.
Ever since the day the rfolk snatched away his catch while he was fishing, Arthur had unilaterally declared a feud.
From then on, whenever he conducted alchemical experints or brewed potions, he used the Black Lake's rfolk as test subjects.
Years passed in the blink of an eye, and the rfolk population was nearly wiped out.
Of course, sustainability mattered.
He had already raised a new batch of rfolk in his Zen Garden. Releasing a few back into the lake later would solve the problem.
Co to think of it… did releasing rfolk count as earning rit?
As Arthur's thoughts wandered, Dumbledore, having finished business, finally moved on to his real purpose.
Small talk.
Yes—that was why Dumbledore had summoned him.
It was Christmas, a ti ant for family gatherings in Britain.
Yet Dumbledore had no family left—save for a brother with whom his relationship was strained.
Lonely as he was, he simply wanted soone to talk to.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Arthur ca to mind.
To be honest, Arthur was the most inscrutable person Dumbledore had ever t.
When Arthur first arrived at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had only thought him a prodigy.
But in just a few short years, Arthur's growth had beco downright terrifying.
A year or two ago, Dumbledore had already realized he could no longer gauge Arthur's true strength.
That alone ant Arthur was at least his equal.
Yet despite being so powerful—and so young—Arthur had never gathered followers like Voldemort, never preached ideals, never sought to carve out a place in the wizarding world.
Instead, he remained at Hogwarts, as if genuinely intending to complete all seven years of schooling.
That contradiction fascinated Dumbledore.
He wanted to understand Arthur's way of thinking.
Today just happened to be the perfect opportunity—but he didn't dive straight into the question.
Instead, he smiled and asked casually,
"By the way—how exactly did Miss Granger manage to obtain the golden egg? Would you indulge an old man's curiosity?"
Dumbledore was well-versed in dragons—he'd even identified twelve uses for dragon blood.
So he was deeply curious why the Chinese Fireball had been so terrified of Hermione.
Arthur replied,
"Have you heard of bloodline suppression from higher-tier dragon species?"
Dumbledore's eyes lit up.
He'd encountered the term in ancient texts—legends spoke of superior dragon species whose re presence could suppress lesser dragons.
Seeing that Dumbledore understood, Arthur continued,
"Hermione was carrying a scale from a high-tier dragon."
Dumbledore imdiately thought of the strange lizard that often perched on Arthur's shoulder.
Not Laya—but Ifrit.
Ifrit loved resting on Arthur's shoulder, folding her wings to resemble a red lizard with unusual markings.
She wasn't there now, largely because she disliked winter and preferred the eternal spring of the Zen Garden.
Dumbledore also rembered Draco having a similar creature—though far less impressive.
He probed carefully,
"That little one on your shoulder… she wouldn't happen to be a high-tier dragon, would she?"
"Mhm," Arthur nodded.
"And Mr. Malfoy's?"
Arthur waved it off.
"That one isn't. It's just a Welsh Green Dragon reduced in size by a special spell."
He didn't bother explaining runes—Dumbledore wasn't his client.
Hearing Draco's wasn't genuine, Dumbledore actually relaxed.
One true high-tier dragon appearing in this era was already miraculous—two would've been absurd.
Otherwise, he might've been tempted to ask Arthur how to get one himself.
Noticing Dumbledore drop the topic, Arthur asked curiously,
"That's it? Knowing Ifrit's a high-tier dragon, you don't want a scale or two for research?"
Dumbledore chuckled.
"So her na is Ifrit—the spirit of fla. A fine na."
Then he countered,
"What sort of thoughts do you imagine I'd have?"
"At the very least, wanting a scale to study?" Arthur said.
"I'd like to," Dumbledore admitted,
"But between managing the Triwizard Tournant and guarding Harry from Voldemort, I hardly have ti for research."
Then he changed the subject.
"Speaking of Voldemort—when do you think he'll make his move on Harry?"
Arthur replied calmly,
"Who knows? Probably when we're most off guard."
In the original tiline, Voldemort struck the mont Harry touched the Triwizard Cup, activating it as a Portkey and sending him to the Riddle family graveyard.
What thod he'd use this ti was hard to say.
If he followed the sa plan, Hermione—with her current strength—would reach the Cup faster than Cedric ever had.
Which ant the first to trigger the Portkey would undoubtedly be Hermione.
The real question was whether Barty Crouch Jr., currently masquerading as Moody, had accounted for that possibility.
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