Chapter 146: Broken Roof, Out-of-Control Black Blocks, and Alchemy's "Sedative"
Second Salem Orphanage.
The gloomy wooden building creaked in the cold wind.
Although Morrin had previously paid off their debts, it couldn't erase the resentment accumulated over the years.
Credence Barebone sneaked back.
He had just eaten the first full meal of his life at Blind Pig Bar, but he couldn't leave his sister, Modesty, behind.
He wanted to take her with him.
However, Percival Graves (Grindelwald) was waiting for him here.
In a room on the second floor.
Mary Lou was holding her newly purchased belt, roaring at Modesty in the corner.
Credence was trembling as he stood in front of his sister.
"You ungrateful thing!" Mary Lou screamed. "You left with that devil, why did you come back? You brought evil back with you!"
"No... I just want to take Modesty away..." Credence's voice was shaking.
The obscurus inside him began to spiral out of control.
Black smoke seeped from under his skin, and his eyes turned pure black.
"Credence."
Graves leaned elegantly against the doorframe, twirling his wand, his eyes fanatical:
"Don't hold back. Release it. Kill this woman who tortures you. Prove your worth to me."
"No!" Credence clutched his head in pain, "Mr. White said... I can control it..."
"Mr. White?" Graves sneered. "He's just a businessman. He treats you as a tool. Only I... I can give you the power of revenge."
Under the stimulation of Graves' words, Credence's emotions completely collapsed.
Boom!
A wave of black energy erupted, directly flipping the roof. Mary Lou screamed as she was slammed against the wall by the airwave, falling unconscious.
Just as the obscurus was about to fully materialize into that black storm that would destroy the city.
"Hold it—back in!"
A cold, majestic voice, like a divine oracle, exploded above the broken roof.
Rumble!
It wasn't thunder.
It was a golden alchemical halo, like a giant lid, descending from the sky and forcibly capping the black smoke that was about to erupt.
Morrin White stood on the roof of the opposite building.
He held the black ironwood wand, its tip pointed at the orphanage. His trench coat flapped in the gale.
Newt and Jacob followed behind him, panting for breath.
"That's an obscurus!" Newt exclaimed. "It's going to explode! We have to soothe him!"
"Soothe my ass."
Morrin didn't look back, his left hand pressing down sharply.
[Gate of Truth (Gold)] — Energy Solidification: Physical Compression.
"For this kind of uncontrolled nuclear reactor, the best way is—forced cooling."
With Morrin's movement, the black smoke rolling over the orphanage seemed to be gripped by an invisible giant hand, unable to spread another inch.
"Aaaaaah—" Credence let out a pained roar from the center of the black mist.
"Bear with it, Credence."
Morrin's figure vanished instantly.
[Half-Giant Speed].
In the next second, he charged directly into the black mist that was enough to tear an Auror apart!
"Is he crazy?!" Tina, who had also arrived, screamed. "That's pure destructive magic!"
But Morrin didn't die.
The [Dragon's Might] on his body formed a high-density shield, isolating the erosion of the obscurus.
He grabbed Credence in the center of the storm—the boy who was disintegrating.
"Look at me!"
Morrin roared, forcibly turning Credence's face toward him.
"Graves is lying to you! He doesn't care about you at all! He just wants to throw you like a bomb!"
"And I..."
Morrin pulled out a bottle of blue potion from his coat, emitting an extremely chilling aura.
It was the [Emotion Freezing Agent] he had refined using [Dementor Sliver] and [Sedative].
"...I don't want you to explode. You are my employee; your life is my asset."
Pop.
Morrin crushed the potion directly against Credence's chest.
The blue liquid instantly seeped into the skin.
The "indifference" attribute of the Dementor and the "fury" attribute of the obscurus underwent a violent neutralization reaction at this moment.
The blackness in Credence's eyes quickly receded.
That world-destroying black mist, like a building with its blocks pulled out, collapsed with a bang and shrank back into the boy's body.
Credence slumped into Morrin's arms, falling into a deep sleep.
The disaster was nipped in the bud.
New York was saved.
The subway station battle would not happen.
"Clap, clap, clap."
A slow round of applause sounded.
Percival Graves stood at the edge of the ruins, not showing any exasperation despite the failure of his plan.
Instead, he looked at Morrin, his eyes revealing an extremely dangerous appreciation.
"Remarkable."
Graves said softly:
"To be able to forcibly suppress an obscurus with Alchemy. Mr. White, you are even more... arrogant than I imagined."
"You flatter me."
Morrin held the unconscious Credence with one hand and leaned on his wand with the other, looking coldly at the first-generation Dark Lord.
"Mr. Grindelwald."
Morrin called out his identity directly:
"Your act is over. The stage here is too small to hold both of us."
Graves' expression changed.
He slowly drew his wand.
No longer in a casual posture, but with the murderous intent belonging to a top duelist.
"You know who I am." Graves smiled, a wild and unrestrained smile. "Then you should also know that those who stand in the way of 'The Greater Good' usually don't end up very well."
"Newt! Take the boy and go!"
Morrin suddenly tossed Credence toward Newt behind him.
"Jacob! Take the little girl!"
Newt caught Credence, and Jacob picked up Modesty.
"What about you?" Newt shouted.
"Me?"
Morrin turned around, facing the Dark Lord who had once made all of Europe tremble.
He felt no fear.
In his eyes burned a fighting spirit called "Greed."
[System Prompt]
[Ultimate Target Detected: Gellert Grindelwald]
[Extractable Traits]:
[Gold] Demagoguery: The art of language, capable of making the most loyal Aurors defect.
[Gold] Master of Prophecy: Compared to Trelawney, his prophecies are more proactive and precise.
[Red] Fiendfyre Mastery: Able to summon and control blue Fiendfyre like a gas stove.
[Current Extractions Available: 3]
"This many times isn't enough to pull a gold one," Morrinthought to himself.
He raised his black ironwood wand, pointing the tip directly at Grindelwald.
"...If we don't fight, how will I know if this business is a profit or a loss?"
"Come on, Grindelwald."
Morrin's pupils turned into golden vertical slits:
"Let me see just how hard the legendary elder wand really is!"
Boom!
Two spells collided over the ruins of the orphanage.
Golden alchemical radiance and blue Dark Arts flames intertwined, lighting up the night sky of New York in 1926.
This battle was destined not to be recorded in history.
But it would be the most vibrant stroke Morrin White left in this era.
Chapter 147: Blue Symphony, Future Spells, and the Exploded Block
Late at night,
The ruins of the Second Salem Orphanage in New York.
The cold wind howled, but the temperature in this block was rising sharply.
Percival Graves (Grindelwald) stood on the rubble of the ruins, waving the wand in his hand as gracefully as a conductor's baton.
He didn't chant, but the air around him began to twist, and blue flames leaped at his feet—this was the high-level form of Fiendfyre, the prototype of a gas stove.
"If you think you can challenge me with that stick and a bit of Alchemy," Grindelwald sneered, "then your understanding of the word 'Wizard' is far too narrow."
"Reducto!"
With a casual wave, Grindelwald sent a bolt of blue light blasting toward Morrin like a heavy cannon.
Morrin White did not use Alchemy for defense.
He held the Black Ironwood Wand in one hand, drawing it from his cane, his gaze instantly becoming sharp.
"Then let me show you the 'Syllabus' from seventy years later."
"Protego!"
Morrin's wand traced a perfect arc.
A powerful Shield Charm barrier, translucent and with a prism-refraction effect, instantly took shape.
Boom!
The Reducto hit the barrier, exploding into a sky full of blue sparks, but the barrier remained unmoved.
This was not just an ordinary Shield Charm; it was a version enhanced by [Spell Maximization (Elder wandTrait · Pseudo)], increasing its strength by 200%.
"Oh?" Grindelwald raised an eyebrow. "Impressive magicdensity. But too passive."
His figure flashed.
In the next second, he used Apparition to appear behind and to the side of Morrin, a blinding electric arc spurting from the tip of his wand.
"Confringo!"
This strike was enough to blow up a tank.
Morrin did not look back.
[Intuitive Warning (Purple)] was screaming alarms in his mind.
Relying on instinct, his body lunged to the left, and he flicked his wand backward.
"Sectumsempra!"
An invisible, razor-sharp blade of magic sliced through the air, cutting toward Grindelwald with a shrill whistle.
This was a Dark Arts spell invented by Snape; in this era, it did not exist.
Grindelwald had originally planned to continue his attack, but his intuition as a top duelist made him feel a deadly chill.
He was forced to interrupt his casting and dodge to the side.
Slash!
The magic blade grazed Grindelwald's cheek, severing a lock of his white hair and cutting deeply into the brick wall behind him, leaving a bottomless crack.
Grindelwald touched his cheek, looking at a smear of blood on his fingertips.
His expression changed.
From contempt to extreme solemnity.
"What spell is this?" Grindelwald stared at Morrin. "I have traveled all over Europe and have never seen such a Dark Arts structure."
"This is a legacy from the future, Mr. Grindelwald."
Morrin turned around, holding his wand level in an elegant and cold posture:
"In this era, you might be the first Dark Lord. But in my time, magic has evolved."
"Again!"
Morrin took the initiative to attack.
He wasn't just standing there; Half-Giant Speed allowed him to weave through the ruins like a bolt of black lightning.
"Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Incendio!"
Morrin's casting speed was astonishingly fast, and they were all non-verbal spells.
Red Stupefying Curses, golden Disarming Charms, and orange Fire-Making Spells blasted toward Grindelwald as densely as machine-gun fire.
Grindelwald was forced onto the defensive.
He waved his wand, forming a wall of blue fire in front of him that swallowed all of Morrin's attacks.
"Crude, but effective."
Grindelwald sneered and suddenly pushed forward with both hands.
Rumble—
Several abandoned buildings nearby suddenly began to tremble.
Countless bricks and steel bars, drawn by Grindelwald's magic, flew into the air, turning into a giant dragon composed of construction debris that roared as it smashed toward Morrin.
This was a combination of high-level Transfiguration and telekinesis.
"Outnumbering me?"
Morrin looked at the "junk dragon" crashing down, a wild, arrogant smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
He slotted his wand back into his cane and slammed both hands onto the ground.
[Gate of Truth (Gold)] — Matter Reconstruction: Fortification.
"Rise!"
The earth roared.
The street beneath Morrin's feet instantly surged upward. Countless rocks and soil rapidly reorganized under the golden glow of Alchemy, transforming into a massive hand made of rock that shot into the sky!
Bang!
The giant rock hand grabbed the "junk dragon" in mid-air and crushed it with raw force!
Debris fell like rain.
In the dust, Morrin and Grindelwald stared at each other from dozens of meters away.
"Alchemy..." A fanatical light flickered in Grindelwald's eyes. "You're using Alchemy in a duel? It's practically art!"
"For a merchant, there is no art."
Morrin brushed the dust off his clothes, his wand sliding back into his palm.
"Only efficiency."
He charged forward again.
This duel across eras was just warming up.
Soon.
The battle reached a fever pitch.
The entire block had been leveled to the ground.
The Aurors of the Wizarding Congress were establishing a barrier on the perimeter, not daring to approach the center of the battlefield.
Grindelwald was indeed incredibly strong.
His spells seemed endless, and every wave of his wandcarried destructive power.
Even though Morrin had [Spell Maximization], he still felt the strain in terms of pure magical volume and casting technique.
"Let it end, child!"
Grindelwald suddenly Apparated above Morrin's head.
He pointed his wand downward.
"Oppugno!"
Countless sharp glass shards and steel bars shot toward Morrin like a torrential rain, sealing off all his space to dodge.
If this hit, Morrin would be riddled with holes.
But in Morrin's vision, the world suddenly slowed down.
[Sand of Time (Gold)] — Activated.
"Rewind."
Hum—
Time flowed backward by 0.5 seconds.
Grindelwald had just appeared overhead; the spell had not yet been cast.
In this "redo" timeline, Morrin had already predicted that position.
Instead of dodging, he raised his wand directly toward the void above him and released the strongest Dark Arts spell he currently mastered.
"Fiendfyre!"
Boom!
A black-red giant serpent of Fiendfyre, personally controlled by Morrin, roared toward the position where the spell had not yet been cast.
As soon as Grindelwald appeared, he slammed head-on into the Fiendfyre serpent.
"What?!" He was pale with shock.
This kid predicted his landing spot? And the timing was so precise?
Grindelwald was forced to abandon his attack, twisting his body mid-air and using a blue magical shield to withstand the Fiendfyre.
Sizzle—
The two types of fire consumed each other in the air.
Grindelwald was blown back by the impact of the Fiendfyre, landing awkwardly on the ground, a corner of his black-and-white coat charred.
This was the first time tonight he had truly "suffered a loss."
Chapter 148: The Final Negotiation and the Rain of Oblivion
Morrin landed on the ground, panting heavily.
The continuous use of high-level magic and time reversal had left his magic on the brink of exhaustion.
But he couldn't show weakness.
Leaning on his cane, he stood amidst the Fiendfyre, like a demon god bathed in fire.
"Still want to fight, Grindelwald?"
Morrin's voice was hoarse, yet filled with a sense of deterrence.
"You can't kill me. I can't kill you either. If we keep fighting, the main force of the Wizarding Congress will arrive."
"By then, your disguise will completely fail. Your painstakingly built infiltration plan will be ruined."
Grindelwald stood up from the ground.
He looked at Morrin, the killing intent in his eyes gradually fading, replaced by a deep calculation.
Indeed.
His current identity was the Director of Magical Law Enforcement in the United States.
If exposed, it would be very detrimental to his subsequent plans.
"What do you want?" Grindelwald asked.
"I want half."
Morrin pointed to Credence in the distance, who was being protected by Newt.
"That boy belongs to me. I'll take him away, and I won't expose your identity."
"Impossible," Grindelwald refused. "He is the core of my plan."
"Then go explain to all the Aurors in the United States why you're using Dark Arts here."
Morrin took out an Alchemy signal flare, gesturing as if to fire it.
Grindelwald fell silent.
He weighed the pros and cons.
Although Credence was important, he could find another opportunity to take him back.
But if his identity were exposed now, he would be forced to flee, which would disrupt his global layout.
"Fine."
Grindelwald revealed a cold smile.
"You can take him. But remember, White. Power attracts power. That boy will eventually return to my side."
"That's a matter for the future."
Morrin put away his wand, his body's tension not relaxing.
"Now, please leave my sight. Immediately."
Grindelwald took a deep look at Morrin.
"We will meet again, friend from the future."
Pop!
Grindelwald disappeared via Apparition.
Morrin finally breathed a sigh of relief, his body swaying, nearly falling over.
"This old guy... is really tough."
...A few minutes later.
A large number of Aurors rushed into the ruins.
Leading them was President Piquery of the Wizarding Congress.
"What happened here?!" Piquery was shocked as she looked at the leveled city blocks.
Morrin White had already straightened his clothes and stood in the center of the ruins, holding a Property Damage Assessment Form.
"An unfortunate... magical accident, Madam President."
Morrin talked nonsense without blinking:
"An out-of-control obscurus caused the damage. But the good news is, I've already brought the situation under control."
He pointed behind him.
Newt was supporting the unconscious Credence, while Jacob held the little girl.
"What about Director Graves?" Tina ran over and asked, "Someone said they saw him."
"He..."
A sharp glint flashed in Morrin's eyes:
"...He heroically went to pursue the 'mastermind.' I think it might take him some time to return."
Early morning.
The crisis in New York was resolved.
But the trouble remained.
The entire city was damaged, and thousands of Muggles had witnessed magic.
"We're exposed," President Piquery said despairingly. "If we don't erase their memories, war will break out."
"I have a way."
Newt stood up. He opened that battered suitcase.
"Frank."
That massive Thunderbird flew out, soaring into the clouds.
It released a storm in the sky, rain containing Swooping Evil venom (a potent obliviator).
The heavy rain poured down.
All the Muggles in New York had their memories of last night washed away in the rain.
But in the rain, a few people held up umbrellas.
At an abandoned subway station entrance.
Morrin White held up a large, black Alchemy umbrella.
Under the umbrella stood Newt, Tina, Queenie, and... that stout baker Jacob, along with the still unconscious Credence.
"The rain will erase bad memories." Newt looked at Jacob, feeling a bit sad. "Jacob, you..."
Jacob smiled and prepared to walk into the rain.
"Wait."
Morrin extended his cane, stopping Jacob.
"Although it's the rule, I hate tragic endings."
Morrin looked at Jacob:
"Mr. Kowalski, you are an employee of my White Mutual Aid Society. A logistics supervisor. I have an obligation to protect my employees from 'workplace injuries' (referring to memory loss)."
Morrin pulled a badge from his pocket and pinned it to Jacob's chest.
Memory Anchor · Alchemy Amulet.
"Wear this. The rain won't affect you."
Jacob was stunned: "Is... Is it true? I don't have to forget Queenie?"
Queenie covered her mouth, tears streaming down as she rushed over to hug Jacob.
"Thank you, Morrin!" Queenie cried out gratefully.
Morrin smiled.
He turned to look at Newt.
"Newt, are you heading back to Britain?"
"Yes." Newt picked up his case. "I'm going to write my book."
"Very well." Morrin handed him a check. "This is a publication sponsorship fee. Remember to write 'Thanks to the support of the White Foundation' on the title page."
Newt accepted it with a smile.
Finally, Morrin looked at the still unconscious Credence.
"I'm staying."
Morrin looked at the ruins and the rebuilding New York.
"I still have many things to do."
Morrin bought the entire building where Blind Pig Barspeakeasy was located, transforming it into the headquarters of the White Mutual Aid Society.
Using Alchemy and Dementor potions, he successfully stabilized Credence's condition and trained him to control the power within. Credence became the first Guardian of the association.
Taking advantage of the information gap, Morrin went on a short-selling spree on Wall Street, accumulating astronomical wealth.
He spent a whole year here studying ancient magic, thoroughly mastering the technology of the time-turner, and combined with Grindelwald's fighting style, he developed his own Magic-Guided Combat Arts... Time flew by.
When Morrin felt that the layout was complete and all the seeds had been planted.
He stood once again on the pier from back then.
In his hand, he held the now repaired time-turner.
"It's time to go back."
Morrin took one last look at this bustling 1920s.
He left behind legends, left behind influence, and left behind future reinforcements.
"Alfred, activate the array."
Hum—
Golden light enveloped Morrin once again.
The world began to spin.
The New York of 1926 vanished... May 2nd, 1998, Hogwarts, Room of Requirement.
Bang!
Morrin's figure appeared out of thin air, falling onto the floor.
The surroundings were still thick with smoke, and the wreckage of the shattered time-turner was still smoking.
It seemed he had been gone for less than a second.
But the aura about him had undergone an earth-shaking change.
Alfred still stood at the door, looking at him with concern: "Young Master? Did you... succeed?"
Morrin stood up, patting the trench coat that seemed stained with the dust of time.
Deep within his pupils, the storm of 1926 was faintly visible.
"I succeeded, Alfred."
Morrin gripped the wand that had weathered battles in the past.
"Not only have I returned."
"I've also brought back... a future army."
"Let's go."
Morrin pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement.
"Let Lord Voldemort see what is meant by—the torrent of history."
Chapter 149: Reinforcements Across Seventy Years, the American Flag in the Sky, and the Besieged Besiegers
Hogwarts, late at night.
Outside the Castle, the sounds of battle shook the heavens.
Lord Voldemort's patience had run out.
Although the one-hour truce hadn't fully ended, he had lost interest in waiting. Giants were battering the walls, werewolves were climbing the towers, and Dementors were circling in the air.
Inside the Room of Requirement.
Morrin White pushed open the large door leading to the corridor.
"Young Master." Alfred followed behind, looking at the still-hot [White Mutual Aid Society General Summoning Order] in Morrin's hand, an ancient alchemical gold coin. "Are you sure they will come? After all, seventy years have passed."
"The contracts of capital are eternal, Alfred."
Morrin straightened his trench coat, which remained crisp even after traveling through time and space, his gaze cold.
"In 1926, I bought half of New York's underworld and established that foundation. I left their descendants inexhaustible wealth and status. In exchange..."
Morrin gripped the gold coin tightly and suddenly crushed it.
"...when the Head of the House summons them, they must repay this debt that spans a century."
Hum—!!!
A strange spatial fluctuation instantly spread throughout Hogwarts, even breaking through the Anti-Apparition boundary set by Lord Voldemort, because this was a summons based on a Blood Pact contract, of an extremely high level... Outside the Castle, on the main battlefield.
Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick were leading the students in a difficult resistance.
Countless Death Eaters surged forward like a black tide.
"We can't hold on!" Neville shouted. He had just blown away a Werewolf with an alchemical grenade, but more were rushing up.
Lord Voldemort stood on the high ground at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, watching the burning Castle with a cruel smile.
"It's over. If Harry Potter doesn't come out, then everyone shall be buried with him."
Just then.
A sudden, massive, low roar came from the sky.
That wasn't thunder.
That was the roar of engines.
Lord Voldemort looked up, his red eyes narrowing.
The clouds broke.
Dozens of massive, streamlined airships, clearly modified with magic, burst through the clouds!
And on the side of the airships was printed a massive logo that shimmered in the night sky:
[White Foundation - US Branch]
"What is that?!" Lucius Malfoy cried out in terror.
The hatch doors opened.
Countless black dots descended from the sky.
They weren't riding brooms; instead, they wore uniforms. What they held in their hands weren't ordinary wands, but alchemical glider rapid-fire wands, similar to the short guns used by American Aurors.
"For Mr. White!"
"For the contract!"
Leading them was a burly middle-aged Wizard with sharp, hawk-like eyes.
He was Newt Scamander's grandson—Rolf Scamander.
Da-da-da-da—
Dense spells descended from the sky like a rainstorm.
Stupefy, Explosion Curses, Binding Curses... The werewolves and Death Eaters climbing the walls were caught off guard and fell from the walls like dumplings being dropped into a pot.
"Reinforcements?!" Professor McGonagall looked at the sky in shock. "Americans? But the Ministry of Magic cut off communications..."
"They aren't reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic."
Morrin White's figure appeared at the highest point of the Astronomy Tower.
He stood in the wind, overlooking the battlefield.
"It's my private army."
Morrin raised his cane and waved it toward the fleet of airships in the sky.
"Clear the battlefield," Morrin ordered.
The bottoms of the airships opened, dropping rows of massive alchemical flares.
The once pitch-black battlefield was instantly lit as bright as day.
Dementors feared strong light the most; they screamed and scattered in all directions, only to be hunted down by the elite Wizards in flight wings using the Patronus Charm.
The situation reversed in an instant.
The Death Eaters who had originally surrounded Hogwarts were now being surrounded in turn by the American Wizard legion in the sky and the Hogwartsdefenders on the ground.
Lord Voldemort's smile froze on his face.
He stared fixedly at Morrin on the tower.
"Morrin White..." Lord Voldemort's voice was filled with rage, "You actually colluded with foreign forces!"
"It's called strategic cooperation with a multinational corporation, Tom."
Morrin's voice spread across the field through the loudspeakers on the airships, carrying a calm mockery:
"Your Death Eaters are still using medieval tactics for group brawls, while we..."
"...we have already entered the era of multi-dimensional warfare."
Morrin turned and said to Neville beside him:
"Commander Longbottom, the situation has balanced out now. Hold your position."
"Where are you going?" Neville asked excitedly.
"I'm going to handle a little... 'internal conflict'."
Morrin looked toward the Shrieking Shack.
He knew Lord Voldemort would soon summon Snape. For that elder wand.
"Professor Snape's part is about to wrap up."
Morrin adjusted his gloves, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
"I need to go give him his 'exit', and by the way... let the savior see what the real truth looks like."
"Let's go, Alfred."
Morrin disappeared from the tower.
"To save that awkward old bat."
The Shrieking Shack.
It was still as dilapidated and filthy as it had been four years ago, the air thick with the smell of old dust.
But tonight, it was filled with a nauseating aura of Dark Arts.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione hid behind a pile of crates, peering through the gaps, watching the center of the room in terror.
Lord Voldemort stood there.
He toyed with the elder wand in his hand, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Beside him, the Giant python Nagini floated in a magical protection sphere, hissing and flicking its tongue.
Opposite him, Severus Snape's face was pale, his black robes trembling slightly under the magical pressure.
"My Lord..." Snape's voice was low, "The current situation is dangerous. The reinforcements brought by that White..."
"Those Americans are nothing to fear," Lord Voldemortinterrupted him, his voice soft and dangerous. "As long as I have completely mastered this wand, no one in this world can stop me. Not even Dumbledore."
Lord Voldemort held up the elder wand and looked at it.
"But I have a question, Severus."
Lord Voldemort walked slowly toward Snape:
"This wand... it doesn't listen to me. Although I hold it, I cannot feel its full power. It still has a master."
Snape's breath hitched for a moment. He knew what was coming next.
"Who killed Dumbledore?" Lord Voldemort asked softly. "It was you, Severus. You killed him."
"My Lord..." Snape tried to step back, but he was pinned in place by those red eyes.
"This wand belongs to the Wizard who killed its previous master." Lord Voldemort raised the wand, but he didn't point it at Snape; instead, he looked at Nagini. "Therefore, as long as you live, I am not its true master."
"You have been a good servant, Severus. But I do not need a servant; I need power."
"Kill him."
Lord Voldemort flicked his wand.
Chapter 150: Execution in the Snake Cage and the Truth of Memories
The magic orb containing Nagini flew towards Snape, enveloping his upper body within it.
"Hiss—!!!"
The giant snake opened its bloody maw, and its two sharp fangs bit fiercely into Snape's neck.
"Ah—"
Snape let out a scream that sounded as if his trachea had been severed.
Blood gushed out, staining the magic orb red.
Harry tightly covered his mouth behind the crate, tears streaming down his face. He hated Snape, but watching this scene, he felt a chill that reached his very bones.
Lord Voldemort watched Snape fall with indifference, his eyes looking at a discarded tool.
"I regret this."
Lord Voldemort recalled Nagini, turned, and walked through the wall to leave.
He was certain Snape was dead.
He was certain the elder wand now belonged to him.
Only Snape remained in the room, lying in a pool of blood, his breathing gradually weakening.
"We have to help him!" Harry rushed out and ran to Snape's side.
Snape wasn't dead yet. He clutched the wound on his neck, his black eyes staring fixedly at Harry.
"Look... look at... me, I..." Snape gasped with difficulty, black blood welling up through his fingers.
"He's bleeding! Too much blood!" Hermione cried, trying to use Essence of Dittany, but it couldn't stop magic snake venom of this level at all.
Just as Harry was in despair.
"Let go."
A calm, emotionless voice rang out in the room.
Harry looked up sharply.
Morrin White stood behind them at some point. He was wearing his slightly dusty black trench coat and holding a silver metal case.
"Morrin?! You... you were watching?!" Harry roared, "Why didn't you save him?! Lord Voldemort was right here!"
"Because if I didn't let Lord Voldemort think he won, this war would never end."
Morrin pushed Harry aside and knelt down beside Snape.
"And, I never do business I'm not sure of."
Morrin opened the metal case.
Inside was a complete set of precision alchemy surgical instruments and a potion emitting a strange blue light.
[Anti-Nagini Venom Serum · Ultimate Edition (Improved based on Arthur Weasley's data)]
"Professor Snape."
Morrin looked at the dying Snape, his tone still that annoying capitalist drawl:
"According to Article 12 of our 'Staff Lifetime Employment Contract': 'If an employee encounters a life-threatening danger while performing their duties, the employer is obligated to provide the highest level of medical rescue, with the costs deducted from bonuses over the next ten years.'"
"So..."
Morrin poured the bottle of blue potion directly onto Snape's horrific wound.
Sizzle—
A puff of white smoke rose.
A miracle happened.
The black blood that had been gushing instantly coagulated, and the torn muscle tissue began to grow and stitch together frantically under the catalysis of the alchemical potion.
"...Your life has been forcibly extended."
Snape gave a violent cough, the sound of air re-entering his lungs.
He had survived.
"Take this, Harry."
Morrin didn't care about Snape's gratitude.
He pointed to the silvery substance seeping from the corner of Snape's eye—it was memories.
"That's what he risked his life to give you. Go get a bottle and collect it."
Harry hurriedly conjured a bottle and caught those memories.
"What is this?" Harry asked.
"The truth."
Morrin stood up and wiped the blood off his gloves.
"About your mother, about Dumbledore's plan, and... about that thing you must do."
Harry looked at the bottle in his hand, then at Snape, who was weak but out of mortal danger.
"Thank you..." Harry whispered.
"Don't thank me. That was a paid service."
Morrin walked to the broken window, looking at the army of Death Eaters gathering in the distance and Lord Voldemort hovering in the air.
"Lord Voldemort thinks he has gained the right to use the elder wand."
A mocking sneer curled the corner of Morrin's mouth.
"But he doesn't know that the true master of that wand is currently standing behind him, calculating every bit of his remaining value."
...Principal's Office.
Harry lifted his head from the Pensieve, his face pale as paper, his body swaying.
He had finished watching Snape's memories.
He knew the whole truth.
Snape loved Lily.
Snape was Dumbledore's man.
And he, Harry Potter, was the seventh Horcrux that Lord Voldemort had unintentionally created.
To kill Lord Voldemort, Harry had to die. And it had to be at Lord Voldemort's hands.
"I'm a... pig." Harry laughed bitterly, slumping into a chair, "Dumbledore kept me just to send me to the slaughter at the right time."
"A very precise metaphor."
Morrin White was standing by Fawkes's perch, feeding the reborn fledgling.
"You were here the whole time?" Harry looked at him, not surprised.
"I've always been here."
Morrin turned around and looked at the boy who was about to go to his death.
"Are you ready to die, Harry?"
"Do I have a choice?" Harry asked back, "If I don't die, Lord Voldemort won't die. Everyone will die."
"Then go."
Morrin didn't cry or try to stop him like Hermione, nor was he angry like Ron.
He simply walked up to Harry and straightened his tattered robes.
"However, before you go to your death, I think you need to know one more thing."
Morrin took out his own Black Ironwood Wand from his pocket, which contained the Black Ironwood Wand, and tapped it lightly against his palm.
"About the elder wand."
Harry looked up: "Lord Voldemort thinks that by killing Snape, he became the master."
"Wrong."
Morrin shook his head:
"The transfer of the elder wand's loyalty depends on 'defeat,' not necessarily killing."
"On the night Dumbledore died, who disarmed him first?"
Harry recalled that horrific night.
"It was... Malfoy! Draco Malfoy! He used the Expelliarmus!"
"Correct." Morrin nodded, "So, the master of the elder wandbecame Draco."
"But..." Morrin smiled, a smile like a fox that had stolen a chicken, "...a few months ago, in my office, I confiscated Draco's wand on the grounds of 'violating school rules' and gave him a harsh lesson during a practice match."
"So?" Harry's eyes widened.
"So, the true current master of the elder wand..."
Morrin pointed to himself:
"...is me."
Harry was completely stunned.
Lord Voldemort thought killing Snape would make him invincible.
As it turned out, the wand he held was actually answering to Morrin White?
"What... what does this mean?" Harry asked.
"It means that when Lord Voldemort uses that wand to fire the Killing Curse at you..."