Chapter 229: Bloodline Fusion?
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"Being Headmaster is exhausting... maybe it’s time I started thinking about retirement."
Exhausted, Dumbledore finally dragged himself back to his office after persuading the gargoyle to let him in.
Next, he asked the portraits of the past headmasters about last night. A few admitted they’d heard some noise, but it had died down quickly, and since no one came looking for Dumbledore, they hadn’t thought much of it.
So what on earth had actually happened?
Pulling out his Codex, he fired off a message to Tom. With Hogwarts in such mess, who else could be behind it if not a Riddle?
"..."
He waited... No reply.
The thing was useful, sure, but Dumbledore was convinced it still needed improvement.
For instance, why not add an emergency mode to make sure the other person sees your message instantly? Just waiting like this was unbearable.
The truth was, Dumbledore was still a bit impatient at heart—a true Gryffindor. He only managed to keep that fiery nature under control through sheer intellect and decades of experience.
Fortunately, even if Tom wasn’t answering, Minerva McGonagall arrived soon enough. Unfortunately, the moment she stepped into the room, stiff-backed and tight-lipped, Dumbledore felt his heart drop.
Oh no. Minerva is furious.
He frantically thought back—what had he done this time to upset her?
Nothing came to mind. Had another student gotten into trouble and dragged her into it?
"Minerva—"
"Albus," she snapped, cutting him off. "Why didn’t you tell me about the Chamber of Secrets and the dairy?"
"And another thing—Mr. Riddle and Mr. Potter are only students. Why are you dragging them into danger? What exactly are we professors here for?"
He hadn’t even finished his sentence before McGonagall’s temper boiled over. She admired him, yes, but she hated how he always kept so much hidden away, spinning plans within plans and never sharing them.
He’d arrange everything in advance and then not tell anyone. Nobody ever knew what he was doing or even what he was thinking.
"..." Dumbledore understood why she was so angry. But he still didn’t know what, precisely, had happened.
Tom, yes—that part made sense. But where on earth had Harry come into it?
His weary smile wasn’t an act this time. He genuinely felt cornered. "When I returned to the school, I found the grounds and the castle damaged. Not a soul in sight. I had no idea what had taken place, which is why I asked Laos to bring you here."
"Could you explain what happened before you scold me?"
McGonagall’s face softened a fraction, though her voice remained sharp as she filled him in on last night’s events.
The castle’s protective enchantments meant that ordinary Repairing Charms were useless against the kind of damage that had been done. Manual reconstruction would be required. To keep students away from the Chamber, breakfast had been delivered straight to their common rooms, and no one was allowed out for now.
Dumbledore rubbed at his temple.
Of course he knew the basilisk was hidden, sleeping deep in the Chamber. As long as the diary was in "his possession
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