"Why doesn't that sound right?" Tony said, rubbing his chin. His tone had beco casual, more relaxed. "You just died—or, well, sacrificed yourself. That ans there's a serious threat, right?"
He leaned back slightly, thinking aloud.
"If soone managed to kill the White Demon King, then whoever we're dealing with must be insanely powerful..."
"Since he's the opposite of the White Demon King, would that make him... the Black—"
Tony paused mid-thought, completely unaware of the awkward shift in atmosphere the mont he said White Demon King. Every Professor nearby twitched at the term.
Malrick cleared his throat sharply, interrupting the conversation.
That nickna might be fine in private, but saying it out loud like that? Definitely a no-go.
"It's Voldemort, right?" Malrick said calmly, eyes flicking to Dumbledore. "He's returned. The Death Eaters are tearing through Britain again."
Dumbledore chose not to acknowledge the unfortunate nickna and nodded solemnly.
"Yes. Once again, our world is overshadowed by his darkness. Even Hogwarts is no longer safe."
He glanced at the group.
"My advice: wait until this storm passes before returning here. When peace is restored, we'll welco you back with open arms, and every wizard will wear their finest robes to greet you."
Tony raised a brow. "So... you're confident you can beat him?"
Dumbledore's beard twitched, the faintest of smiles forming at the edge of his lips. It was the question he'd been waiting for.
"I'm afraid not," he replied gently.
"As you saw, had Malrick not intervened tonight, I would've returned to dust. Voldemort's power has only grown."
He let out a weary sigh.
"His influence runs deep. Almost every pure-blood family has ties to his followers. This won't be a war—it'll be a slaughter."
"Now, gifted a second life, all I can do is stand in resistance… until Death calls again."
Dumbledore's voice, though calm, carried a deep sorrow. He spoke of Voldemort's cruelty and the horror of the Death Eaters in quiet detail. There was no grandstanding—just the heavy weight of reality.
His words struck everyone.
Even Tony found himself staring silently, sensing there was more to Dumbledore's tone than just warning.
Mordo, Wong, and Banner, standing nearby, were visibly affected. Their sense of justice flared.
But Malrick simply crossed his arms and shook his head, unimpressed.
Did they really not see through this old man?
Dumbledore had been a master manipulator since the days of Grindelwald. The man had played chess with lives and politics since before Tony's great-grandfather was born.
Malrick sighed. "Dumbledore… you're asking for our help, aren't you?"
The old wizard blinked, surprised by how direct Malrick was. But seeing no reason to pretend anymore, he nodded.
"Yes, Malrick. I can sense the strength you carry. If you were to help us, I believe our chances of surviving this war would drastically improve."
Malrick gave a small nod. "If you want help, ask. Don't dance around it. We're not mind-readers."
Dumbledore's sharp, clouded eyes locked onto Malrick. "Then... what is your answer?"
Malrick clapped a hand on the wizard's shoulder. "Voldemort? Please. He's not even worth a war."
"Let's take care of him now, then we'll talk about your magical resources—like, say, full access to your library."
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up—but a smile spread across his face.
"Of course. No objections at all. Magic should be shared freely and used for good."
He extended a hand. "Now then, esteed guests from afar, shall we head inside? Dinner at Hogwarts is not to be missed."
McGonagall and the others, who had been quietly watching, smiled at the remark. She began guiding the students toward the castle.
But Malrick gently pushed Dumbledore's hand away.
"No ti for dinner."
Before anyone could respond, he grabbed Dumbledore's robe and took off into the air.
"Now is the best ti to deal with Voldemort."
The two soared across the grounds, heading to the open lawn beyond the castle walls.
Professors and students blinked, stunned, then scrambled after them, pouring out of the courtyard in droves.
Tony activated his armor and flew up, carrying Wong and Mordo, with Banner on his back. The crowd below watched in awe as they joined Malrick outside the castle.
"Malrick," Dumbledore asked, his tone curious but calm, "what exactly are you planning?"
"Dealing with Voldemort," Malrick replied, eyes narrowing. "This space is perfect."
He scanned the wizarding world with his enhanced vision—upgraded by the Source Will. With its spatial properties, magical barriers were aningless to him. Nothing could hide.
"I rember… To kill Voldemort, you have to destroy the Horcruxes, right?"
"Fragnts of his soul placed in physical objects. Unless they're all destroyed, he can't truly die."
Suddenly, Malrick raised his hand and drew a circle in the air.
Dumbledore stared, stunned.
"You… you're absolutely right. But what kind of magic is that?"
A glowing golden portal appeared in front of them, shimring with energy.
"That's the Room of Requirent," Dumbledore whispered in disbelief, recognizing the space instantly.
"Portal magic," Malrick said casually. "It's a Mystic Art—like Apparition, but it links directly across locations."
He reached through and pulled out a weathered, ancient diadem.
"This is Ravenclaw's Diadem. One of Voldemort's Horcruxes."
Dumbledore's eyes widened. He stepped forward and picked it up, imdiately sensing the dark soul aura emanating from it.
He looked up just in ti to see Malrick draw two more portals, one with each hand.
One opened to a Gringotts vault filled with treasure.
The other led to the dusty Black family house, where a startled house-elf, Kreacher, stood frozen in shock.
Before Kreacher could squeak out a protest, Malrick extended both hands—his left grabbing a gleaming goblet, his right snatching a locket from a shelf beside Kreacher.
Kreacher screeched in fury, but it was too late.
Malrick waved, closing both portals with a flick of his wrist.
He tossed both items onto the ground beside the diadem.
"Slytherin's Locket. Hufflepuff's Cup. Two more Horcruxes."
Dumbledore stared, utterly speechless.
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