Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

As Dumbledore's voice faded, the spacious room fell into a prolonged silence. After a moment, Gellert let out a cold laugh and spoke:

"A car accident? Albus, you know how powerful the bloodline blessing spell I cast on my brother was when I sent him away. For at least five generations, he and his children would live lives free of sickness or disaster, if not in wealth and glory. A mere car accident could take their lives?"

Hearing Gellert's words, Dumbledore frowned deeply.

"Are you suggesting that the deaths of Wentworth's parents were caused by a wizard?"

Gellert sneered.

"Do I even need to say it? A group of cowards too afraid to come after me but willing to target them instead. The Grindelwald family will remember this grudge!"

Hearing this, Dumbledore's face turned grave as he asked nervously,

"Gellert, what do you plan to do?"

Gellert glanced at Dumbledore coldly.

"Don't worry, Albus. I won't leave Nurmengard. I only hope that, when the time is right, you'll tell Wentworth about this. The Grindelwald family's grudges should be avenged by its own children!"

Relieved by Gellert's assurance, Dumbledore exhaled slowly and replied,

"You have my word, Gellert. When the time comes, I will tell him. Moreover, both Hogwarts and I will stand behind him, no matter who his opponent is."

Instead of showing gratitude, Gellert eyed Dumbledore warily and asked,

"Albus, why do I feel like you're scheming something? Initially, I thought your decision to admit Wentworth into Hogwarts was just another form of surveillance. But considering the instability in the wizarding world, I conceded—it's safer for him to be near you. However, it seems your intentions run deeper than that."

He paused before continuing, a biting tone in his voice:

"Not only did you allow my followers into Hogwarts, but now you're openly declaring your support for Wentworth, no matter who stands against him. Are you finally aligning with my ideals, my Pureblood Party? After all these years, have you realized I was right?"

Dumbledore smiled faintly at this accusation, then recounted his recent conversation with Snape in detail.

After hearing him out, Gellert scoffed.

"So that's it. Dumbledore, after all these years, you haven't changed a bit—always using others to achieve your ends. But remember, every gift from destiny comes with a price."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully and said in a measured tone,

"Gellert, we are both old now. The future of the magical world lies in the wands of the young. As for the price marked by fate, I have already prepared my payment. I just hope you'll agree to one thing."

Gellert stared at his old friend in silence, sensing something ominous but saying nothing.

When Gellert didn't respond, Dumbledore locked eyes with him and waited. After a long pause, Gellert finally broke the silence with a curt,

"Say it."

Dumbledore smiled softly and said,

"Gellert, if something were to happen to me, our pact will be void. If that day comes, I hope you'll step forward and guide the young ones a little further. After all, they will still need time to grow."

As Dumbledore's words hung in the air, only the sound of the cold wind howling through Nurmengard remained. Neither man spoke again.

The next morning, Wentworth, well-rested, left his dormitory and joined Cedric, who was waiting for him. Together, they headed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

After breakfast, Wentworth parted ways with Cedric and Cork before joining his fellow Hufflepuff first-years on their way to class. That morning, they were to attend Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins.

But as they stepped out of the Great Hall, they found themselves blocked by a group of Slytherin students in dark green robes, led by the fifth-year prefect, Waylin.

"Waylin, what's the meaning of this?" Wentworth asked, puzzled.

Waylin sneered in response but said nothing, leaving Wentworth thoroughly confused.

"If you have something to say, say it. If not, excuse us—we have class to attend," Wentworth pressed.

This time, Waylin responded coldly,

"Wait here."

Wentworth's expression darkened. He realized now that the Slytherins were here to cause trouble.

Though Wentworth appeared to be an 11-year-old student, his soul belonged to an adult. He wouldn't tolerate such provocation and replied just as coldly,

"And what if I say I won't wait?"

Waylin smirked, drawing his wand.

At that moment, Cedric stepped out from behind Wentworth, placing himself between them. He also drew his wand.

"Waylin, what are you trying to do?" Cedric demanded.

Waylin scoffed dismissively.

"A second-year standing up for someone else? I thought only those Gryffindor fools did such reckless things."

"Not impressed by second-years? How about a fifth-year, Waylin?" came Kirk's voice.

He appeared with a group of Hufflepuff students, surrounding Wentworth and Cedric protectively.

Seeing this, the Slytherin students behind Waylin surged forward.

In an instant, the spacious corridor outside the Great Hall was packed, with Slytherins and Hufflepuffs facing off. Meanwhile, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students watched curiously from a distance.

Sensing the tension escalating, Waylin hesitated. He spoke first,

"Kirk, yesterday you blocked the path of our Slytherin first-years. Today, we're returning the favor. Is that unreasonable?"

From her hiding spot behind the hall door, Cassandra slapped her forehead in embarrassment.

That excuse was pathetic—nothing had even happened yet, and he was already giving himself an out. He was a disgrace to Slytherin.

With that thought, Cassandra signaled for the Slytherin first-years to follow her and strode confidently out of the hall.

Outside, Wentworth watched Cassandra with amusement. Typical Slytherin, he thought, always avoiding a loss.

As Cassandra walked past, head held high, Wentworth whispered to Kirk,

"Can you beat Waylin in a duel?"

Kirk replied honestly, "No."

Wentworth sighed. "...Figures."

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