Chapter 27 The Eve Before Dawn
Draco faced the door, and in a trance, the Vanishing Cabinet that he had repaired stood in front of him again.
The water candle lamps in Dumbledore's old house reflected a cold light in the twilight, overlapping with the candlelight in Hogwarts.
"So you really intend to keep it a secret from him?" Dumbledore's voice drifted from the shadows, his fingertips tapping gently. "With Voldemort's blade at your throats, you seek Harry to conceal it for you and make a deal with us?"
The light running notes of a stopwatch's countdown came from the walnut bookcase under Dumbledore's hand.
Draco clenched his sleeves, his nails almost digging into his palms, and his eyes couldn't help but stare at the door again.
Harry, he should still be behind the door. The wind is picking up. Will the corner of the cloak lifted by the draft blow up the dancing flaming red shirt?
"I know that removing the curse from you is not enough to get you to help me get my father out of Azkaban.
"But I am willing to pay the price if you can get my father out of Azkaban alive."
Draco bit his lip and spoke word by word.
"I'm sorry, Draco." Dumbledore looked at Draco with pity and shook his head, "Lucius is now burdened with the mistakes he once cunningly escaped.
“And your father, Lucius, has not repented of his sins.
"As Lord Chancellor of the Wizengamot, I cannot help you in going easy on him."
Draco clenched his fists and his face was as pale as paper. He didn't want to believe what Dumbledore said.
But the fact is, his father has no way to get out of prison!
Is killing Dumbledore really the only way to go? Draco couldn't help but ask himself.
No!
Draco's eyes shot up, fixed on Dumbledore.
"What do you want, Professor Dumbledore? Since you are willing to see me, you don't really just want to dissuade me from my plans in person."
Draco's tone was calm, but his deep eyes were filled with determination.
Dumbledore looked at the determined eyes in front of him, which overlapped with the blue eyes that had been pointed at his nose with a wand for many years. This unexpected association made Dumbledore take off his glasses.
Dumbledore slowly picked up the teacup, took a sip, and then continued, "This is not a simple exchange of chips."
"So, what do you want me to do?"
Draco asked anxiously, and a trace of paleness appeared on his face.
Dumbledore slowly raised his head and met Draco's gaze. "If what I want is your continued loyalty and trust in Voldemort, is that acceptable to you?"
"You want to..." Draco couldn't help but take a step back. This old madman is really crazy and really wants to die!
"I want you to continue Tom's mission. Oh, Tom is the mysterious man you are talking about."
As he said this he winked cutely.
Draco's face instantly changed from a frightened cat to one of Conan meeting Goro, and the purity of the whites of his eyes was almost catching up with Neji's.
"And then, at the end, a little joke on Tom."
Dumbledore added with a smile, his tone gentle, but his eyes behind the glasses were indifferent.
This madman is really crazy!!! The veins on Draco's forehead suddenly popped up.
He couldn't believe what he heard, but he had to believe it.
"Are you kidding?" His lips trembled. "You want me to lie to You-Know-Who?"
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "Just like before, the Boy Who Lived stood up again. How would that end?"
Draco's pupils shrank, and he finally understood that Dumbledore was planning to use Harry to lure the mysterious man.
By re-enacting the fable, the wizarding world's memory of the golden boy is awakened again, the terrifying image that Voldemort has created for many years is completely defeated, and Voldemort is pushed into a state of no return.
"You Gryffindors have all gone crazy. You want Harry to gamble his life on the slim chance of immortality?"
Draco screamed in despair, holding the edge of the table with both hands, his body shaking violently.
Harry trusted his old professor so much, how could he have the heart to hurt him like this!
Isn’t he the greatest white wizard? Why would he do such a cruel thing!
He truly is a monster, Dumbledore!
The rain lashed against the smooth glass windows of Dumbledore's old house. Harry followed Draco up the stone steps, his fingertips trembling slightly in his hand.
Draco hesitated in front of the door for a moment, and finally raised his hand slowly.
The wooden door was pushed open, and the old man sitting in the high-backed chair waved to Harry, his silver beard hanging down on the table like solidified moonlight, his eyes still as calm as before.
Harry's eyes were fixed on Dumbledore in front of him. He opened his mouth but couldn't say anything for a long time. It was as if there was a group of noisy birds flying in his mind.
His eyes searched Dumbledore's face, trying to find any trace of the Polyjuice Potion, but the familiar look with a gentle smile woke him up.
Surprise overwhelmed him like a surging tide.
He felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, almost jumping out of his throat.
The old man whom he had always respected and relied on, the wise man whom he thought was lost forever, was now standing alive in front of him.
However, doubts quickly spread across his surprised heart like tangled vines, and Harry's brows were tightly furrowed.
He clearly remembered witnessing Dumbledore falling from the tall tower, and the scene was engraved deep in his memory like a nightmare.
Various thoughts collide with each other.
The person in front of me is the real Dumbledore, so is the figure falling from the tower an illusion created by some magic?
"Good evening, gentlemen. Would you like some sugar?"
Dumbledore's bony fingers roamed for a moment on the carved cabinet and produced an amber sugar bowl.
"Lemon Sherbet? Or raspberry rock candy? Oh, Harry, Draco, you really should try it, it's the new thing Honeydukes has come out with."
As soon as Dumbledore came up, he stuffed candy into the hands of Harry and Draco.
"You know why we are here." As he leaned forward, the lightning mark faced the charred skin exposed by Dumbledore's cuffs.
"The Death Eaters have taken control of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts—"
"I'm sorry, Harry."
As Dumbledore put down the teacup, Harry's voice stopped in his throat and his movements broke into a light sound.
The old man placed his crossed fingers against his chin, his fingertips rubbing the scars on his knuckles, which were left when he destroyed the Resurrection Stone last year.
Harry stood up suddenly, his chair dragging along the ground with a sharp sound. "But you are the only one who can stop him!"
Harry took a half step forward, the wind from his cloak blowing up the paper on the corner of the table. The boy's knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the table, and there was a stubborn fire burning in his emerald eyes.
"Oh no, kid, the only one who can stop him is you."
The old man turned around, and a faint light flashed through the lenses of his half-moon glasses.
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