"Given that all mbers have agreed, I hereby declare Gilderoy Lockhart, forr holder of the Order of rlin, Second Class, guilty of the cris of mory tampering, assault on Aurors, and endangering school safety. I strip him of all honors and sentence him to Azkaban for an indefinite term!"
In the Wizengamot courtroom, an extrely ancient wizard held a small gavel in his hand and struck it heavily on the plate before him. Then, completely ignoring the faint sobbing from the floor, he walked toward a nearby door.
In the central chair of the courtroom, Lockhart was struggling frantically, wailing about sothing. His voice was muffled, so one could only faintly make out exclamations about injustice and unwanted involvent, though the words weren't entirely clear.
However, no amount of argunt would help. The evidence from mory searches and real-world testimony was more than sufficient. No one could acquit him.
Two Aurors approached from both sides, ignoring Lockhart's struggles and cries. They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away.
The path to Azkaban was not an easy one to walk. The two Aurors' expressions were unhappy, as if they harbored so resentnt at being chosen for this task.
On the jury bench, an old man with deep blue eyes and a pure white beard slowly stood. He looked at Lockhart being dragged away by Aurors, still wailing, his expressionless face. Or rather, this was one of the scenes he had foreseen.
In the courtroom's audience seats, Professor Flitwick was holding the hand of the middle-aged man beside him, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of long-awaited revenge, though also tinged with so lancholy.
But the middle-aged man beside him showed no joy or sadness. He simply looked around curiously, occasionally shifting his bottom as if he couldn't sit still—like a restless child.
Seeing the middle-aged man's movents, Flitwick's eyes of satisfaction faded completely, replaced by profound sadness. Although the culprit had been brought to justice, the damage to his old friend's mory could never be recovered.
This was the cruelest aspect of mory Charms. Once struck by such a spell, mories suffered irreversible damage. If the caster hadn't locked onto specific mories but instead cast the spell indiscriminately, the victim would beco like the man beside him—vacant-minded, even losing the ability to care for themselves. One could say this was one of the most vicious magics in the wizarding world, though not officially classified among the Unforgivable Curses.
Seeing Dumbledore approaching, Flitwick took the middle-aged man's hand and left the audience seating together with him.
They walked in silence for a long ti before Flitwick finally spoke softly.
"Thank you."
He understood that Dumbledore generally disliked visiting the Ministry. As the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, he was also reluctant to attend trials. That he ca now was purely to accompany Flitwick.
"There's no need for thanks, Filius," Dumbledore said softly. "As a mber of the Wizengamot, I should indeed attend more sessions."
"Yes."
The atmosphere fell silent again. The middle-aged man Flitwick was holding looked curiously at the surrounding paintings, seemingly studying why they moved.
After a long while, Flitwick spoke again.
"I need to take Eurytion ho and try to implant so mories in him so he can live sowhat better."
Speaking these words, Flitwick's tone was filled with lancholy. After adjusting his emotions, he raised his head and looked at Dumbledore. "What about you? Will you return to school directly?"
Since his matter here was concluded, Dumbledore shouldn't stay any longer.
"? I won't return imdiately," Dumbledore shook his head, as if suddenly rembering sothing. A faint smile curved his lips. "This morning I received a letter from Mada Maxi, and I'm planning to make a trip to France."
"If all goes well, I should be able to bring back a perfect Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the school."
In the Egyptian Gringotts Archives
"The Dark Wizard King, the Dark Wizard King."
In the archives of Gringotts Egypt, a group searched through mountains of books. They had tried to organize the relevant materials according to Bill's description, gathering them together, but even so, information related to pyramids and ancient Egyptian monarchs was simply overwhelming.
This was still after the goblin rebellion, when a significant portion of materials had been destroyed by fire. Otherwise, the archives would contain even more information, making the situation even more complex.
Parchnt after parchnt appeared before Evans's eyes, then fell aside as he rapidly reviewed the materials before him. Beyond this, he also paid attention to another matter while dividing his focus. He wanted to search these archives for any clues related to that mark.
Although he doubted that materials not found in Hogwarts would be found in the Egyptian Gringotts archives—after all, Gringotts was rely a bank. Despite its extraordinarily broad scope of business, such materials should be more complete in places like schools.
Besides Evans, Nana was sniffing the air continuously, constantly exploring sothing in the air above. She had been called out to search for any related objects in this place.
But placing a Niffler in a bank's archives to find sothing unrelated to precious items was indeed quite difficult for her. After all, the entire area was filled with the scent of Galleons from the underground vaults. Simply standing here made Nana feel sowhat dizzy. She just wanted to sneak through a door crack when Evans wasn't looking, dive headfirst into the underground vaults, and never co out.
But Alice was watching her from the side. She probably wouldn't give her that chance.
Parchnt after parchnt flashed before Evans's eyes as countless pyramid-related information embedded itself in his mind. Yet none of these details had any connection to that cold pyramid. They seed rely to be studies of Muggle pyramids and specific data on wizard tombs.
But just as Evans was about to flip through the next stack of parchnts, Bill's voice suddenly rang out with excitent beside him.
"Found it!"
Following the voice, Evans saw Bill holding a tattered parchnt in his hand. Nurous preservation spells had been cast on it, yet it remained so damaged that one could see how many countless ages it had endured.
Leaning closer to the parchnt, most of the writing had beco illegible, but at the end of the parchnt, several lines in bright red text, despite such vast ages, remained strikingly clear.
"We praise the Dark Wizard King, who brought hope, who created that infinite river.
We revere the Dark Wizard King, who brought war, who erased the hopes of countless travelers.
But betrayal ca silently, descending without warning.
We are all sinners—we should have been slaves, yet dared to defy our master.
His kingdom was established in the void; his will pervades the earth.
Soday, he shall return."
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