Chapter 114: The Value Of The Century’s Greatest White Wizard
“What do we do now?”
Harry crouched by the bridge outside the town, aimlessly tracing the stream with his finger.
The icy coolness of the stream water as it flowed over his fingers sent a shiver through him. A gentle breeze blew, carrying a damp, cool scent from the stream, which seemed to instantly dispel the heat from the sun beating down above.
But that couldn’t alleviate Harry’s inner panic and bewilderment.
Where am I now?
What am I doing?
Is all of this real?
There were no answers to these questions. In fact, ever since leaving the fairytale town and falling into this place, he had been unable to distinguish between reality and illusion.
For example, the stream before his eyes, the mud beneath his feet, the sun overhead, and… the bustling, noisy town not far away.
Had he, without realizing it, been magically transported away from Hogwarts to some Muggle or wizarding town?
With this thought, Harry slowly straightened up and cautiously poked half of his head out from the embankment.
A few dozen feet away was a scene full of life. A dirt road, extending from the bridge, ran through the town. Rows of low houses stood on either side of the road, and many people were coming and going. Some were chatting, others were arguing loudly.
Vendors set up stalls and shouted their wares, carriages rumbled down the street, and a group of dancers glided past, their heels tapping out a rhythmic sound.
It looked like a lively and ordinary town. The only problem was that all the “people” were carved from stone!
It was as if statues had suddenly come to life.
Harry clamped his hand tightly over his mouth to prevent himself from making a sound and attracting the attention of the stone people. He shrank back under the bridge, his bewilderment deepening.
He didn’t believe that any place in the world had such a species of intelligent beings made of stone. If there were, he would have heard of it by now.
Or Hermione would have explained it to him, instead of sitting foolishly by the stream, flipping through the paintbrush in her hand as if she were an idiot.
Harry could only guess that he was still in Hogwarts, still within the traps guarding the Philosopher’s Stone.
But how was all of this achieved?
He couldn’t help but look at Hermione. When they encountered something they couldn’t figure out, Hermione was always the first to step forward to enlighten him, but today, she was clearly also in shock.
Harry thought for a moment, then shuffled closer to Hermione and gently tugged her sleeve.
Hermione came back to her senses. “Harry, what is it?”
“Uh, nothing, I just wanted to say…” Harry wasn’t very good at comforting people. He felt Hermione might be a little dejected. She was always the most knowledgeable one in their trio, and encountering something inexplicable now could lead to frustration.
Unexpectedly, as soon as he spoke, Hermione said, “If you want to ask where we are, I can tell you, we’re in a painting!”
“Ah?” Harry’s eyes widened. “A painting?”
“Yes, remember what the narrator said when we left the fairytale town? He said the next scene was called the Painted Castle, and besides…”
With that, Hermione handed the paintbrush to Harry. “And this thing as evidence.”
“How can a paintbrush provide evidence…” Harry’s half-hearted question of doubt was cut short as he abruptly stopped. The moment he took the paintbrush, he saw a crooked, bubble-like dialogue box “pop” out of it, standing conspicuously in front of him.
【 Wish Brush: A magical paintbrush applied to the Painted World. When you make a wish with a devout belief, it can paint whatever you desire! 】
【 Uses: 3/3 】
“This…”
Harry was speechless, too surprised to utter a word.
He reached out to touch the dialogue box. Unlike in the fairytale town, his finger passed right through it, with no sensation of touching a solid object.
He looked again at the stream by his feet, felt the sun and the breeze, and his features gradually creased. His head throbbed intermittently, a sign that his brain was starting to overload. “All of this is a painting?”
Hermione nodded slightly.
She understood Harry’s surprise and disbelief. When she first discovered it, she hadn’t believed it either. But unlike Harry, she had already vaguely sensed that this trial might have been intentionally arranged by Dumbledore and Vaughn.
Whether it was the various small props Vaughn had given her before, or the Phoenix Tears sent by Guo Guo Cha before they entered.
All this indicated that Vaughn knew she and Harry and Ron would encounter trouble soon.
Coupled with Dumbledore and Vaughn’s sudden “loss of sanity” and being lured away from Hogwarts by Snape’s simple stratagem.
The “trouble” was likely arranged long ago, and probably by the two of them.
Hermione’s daze earlier wasn’t due to frustration or inability to distinguish reality from illusion. In her opinion, with Dumbledore’s magical prowess and Vaughn’s intelligence, anything, no matter how incredible, could be created by them. She had been thinking about Dumbledore and Vaughn’s intentions.
Combined with the truth obtained from the Centaurs and the grouping situation in the previous fairytale town, Hermione quickly figured it out—
Dumbledore and Vaughn wanted Harry to face Quirrell… no, rather, to face the Dark Lord!
She couldn’t understand why they would have such terrible ideas and attempts. What bothered her even more was whether she should tell Harry about this.
Perhaps Dumbledore and Vaughn had some deeper meaning?
Perhaps they were testing something?
Hermione wasn’t sure. She certainly didn’t doubt Dumbledore’s intentions, and she trusted Vaughn immensely. However, Quirrell was, after all, a minion of the Dark Lord, a dangerous dark wizard. And according to the Centaurs’ prophecy, the Dark Lord was likely possessing Quirrell.
Was it really okay to put such a terrifying creature and Harry in the same cage?
……
Above, in a space hidden by magic, Dumbledore, lounging on a magical flying carpet, observed Hermione below with keen interest, her expression constantly changing.
“Miss Granger seems to have discovered something. Is this a lapse on your part? Preparing so many props for her in advance, and then sending the Phoenix Tears… My dear, this doesn’t align with our original intention!”
Vaughn remained noncommittal to Old Dumbledore’s implicit questioning. His eyes glowed faintly with magical light, and his attention was more focused on studying this painted world. He casually replied, “She’s always been smart. Even without my oversight, she would have sensed something was wrong. Besides…”
“…your goal wasn’t to test her. In your eyes, only the Chosen One is important… Also, you don’t need to worry about Hermione telling Harry and ruining your plan. She’s a smart girl, she’ll figure it out.”
Vaughn’s judgment was not wrong.
By the stream below, Hermione hesitated for a moment, but ultimately did not share her suspicions with Harry. Instead, she poked her head out from the embankment and surveyed the town.
Beside her, after a long pause, Harry’s thoughts finally emerged from his shock.
Although the incredibly real scene before him was a painting, making it feel unbelievable and incredible, it seemed not entirely unacceptable in a world with magic.
He cautiously peeked his head out, like Hermione, observing the town while asking, “What do we do now? The narrator didn’t give us a mission this time, just told us to enter the town, find a way to pass through, and then head to the castle… How do we pass through? Do we just walk?”
He gazed at the stone figures in the town, mimicking human behavior and emotions.
Harry clearly saw two female stone figures, arguing in the street, suddenly start fighting. Their seemingly slender arms punched a large hole in the brick wall with a single blow.
“…”
Harry’s scalp tingled. He felt he needed to think carefully about a strategy.
He looked to both sides of the town. Both sides were vast forests. From this angle, he couldn’t see the end, but he felt that at least the trees looked much safer than those violent stone figures. “Hermione, how about we go around the town?”
Hermione, who had been silently observing, didn’t comment on his suggestion but instead asked, “Do you remember how I evaluated the last fairytale town?”
Harry was stunned for a moment and replied, “You said it looked like a Muggle video game, fixed within a framework, where you adventure and break through levels according to game rules and clues…”
“Yes, Dumbledore and Vaughn created this place, they…”
“Wait!” Harry interrupted her, his expression astonished. “Dumbledore and Vaughn created this? Vaughn Weasley?”
“That’s right, Vaughn!” Hermione paused and continued, “I’m not sure how much he was involved, but what we’ve experienced so far has strong traces of Muggle video games. He should have conceived it.”
Saying this, she looked at Harry. “Especially the logic puzzle in the last round. Very few wizards can understand it, including Dumbledore.”
Harry was dumbfounded. Thinking about it carefully, the puzzle about finding the guide in the last round didn’t seem like something a wizard would come up with, or rather, not a traditional wizard.
Dumbledore, including the professors at the school, were undoubtedly very traditional wizards.
Hermione continued, “You studied magic with Vaughn before, so you should know better than me that his personality is very… mischievous. When you fall under his control, and he clearly dictates how you advance, you’d best follow his ideas, otherwise…”
Otherwise what?
Hermione didn’t say, but Harry immediately remembered the days he was tormented by virtual personalities and shivered.
Looking at the forests on either side of the town again, he suddenly felt them to be sinister and terrifying, exuding an ominous aura.
“Then, let’s follow the narrator’s instructions and pass through the town…”
Before he could finish speaking, Harry heard a crack from the sky.
A violent flash of lightning illuminated the sky and earth, turning everything a pale white. A thick bolt of lightning tore across the sky, passed over the town, and struck the forest on the other side with a crackling fury.
Thick smoke billowed up, and from a distance, screams seemed to be heard.
“…”
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, suddenly remembering something, and shouted, “Ron!”
……
On the other side of the town, in the forest that had been bombarded by lightning and was almost reduced to charcoal, Ron’s face was pale, and his freckles seemed almost transparent.
He stood trembling between three smoking trees.
Beside him, the ground, which had been a pile of dry leaves only tens of seconds ago, soft and fluffy, now consisted only of black ash. A disheveled figure was curled up in the ashes, twitching.
“I told you! I told you! I knew something was wrong when that question came up. Who else but that scoundrel Vaughn would come up with such a weird question?”
“He must be involved in this place! I told you he’s wicked and domineering, but you wouldn’t believe me. The narrator even said to enter the town, and you insisted on going through the woods, you…”
“Shut up, Weasley!”
Quirrell sat up, his body convulsing.
He was furious, his raised wand wishing he could cast an evil curse the next second and obliterate the chattering brat in front of him.
But unfortunately, both he and Ron knew he dared not use magic again.
“This is already the third punishment. If you misuse magic again, do you think you can withstand the next electric shock?”
Ron glared, undeterred, completely forgetting that he had almost wet himself when the lightning struck just moments ago.
“…” After a moment of gasping silence, Quirrell lowered his wand, gritted his teeth, and said, “Don’t forget, I just saved you. If it weren’t for my Fire-Making Spell, you would have been dragged into the dense forest by the Devil’s Snare!”
“That’s because I grabbed your leg. If you didn’t save me, you would have been dragged in too.”
Ron said righteously. The paleness that had been on his face due to his recent fright had regained some color.
Quirrell: “…”
He gritted his teeth and said no more, lest he be so angered by the redhead that he couldn’t help but use magic.
After catching his breath, Quirrell, with trembling hands, opened his satchel, took out a bottle of potion, uncorked it, and drank it down.
Soon, immense vitality surged through him, and the injuries inflicted by the lightning magic rapidly healed.
Ron, squinting, secretly glanced at the potion bottle in Quirrell’s hand and asked casually, “That’s a potion brewed with unicorn blood, isn’t it?”
Quirrell glanced at him and sneered, “Have you been to the Forbidden Forest? Did you hear from those idiotic Centaurs that I coveted unicorn blood?”
Ron stubbornly said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can’t I just see it myself?”
“Ha—I taught you for a year. I know your and dear Harry’s usual grades better than you do. The Chosen One and his follower… Heh heh, you’re just two hopeless idiots!”
The contempt from the former Ravenclaw top student made Ron’s face flush, but what hit him harder was the phrase “The Chosen One and his follower”!
Quirrell keenly sensed his shift in mood, narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing.
He stood up and looked at the town filled with stone figures. He, too, had seen the destructive power displayed by the stone figures fighting amongst themselves.
If he were at his full strength, Quirrell would not fear those stone figures that could only fight at close range; he had hundreds of ways to toy with them.
But now, unable to casually use magic, the presence of these stone figures became the most troublesome problem.
After observing for a moment, Quirrell picked up a stone and threw it into the town from a distance.
The sound of the stone landing immediately attracted the attention of two stone figures. They strode heavily to the stone and peered down.
The next moment, they raised their fists!
Thump-thump-thump—
After a series of dull thuds, the two stone figures walked away, leaving only a pile of stone dust in their place.
“It seems there’s a trick to getting in!” Quirrell’s expression was not very good. He looked at Ron, “Weasley, do you have any ideas?”
“This town should be a chessboard!”
Ron replied sullenly, “Those stone figures look like Wizard Chess pieces.”
On the other side of town, Harry and Hermione had reached a similar conclusion.
Not long ago, seeing the lightning strike into the forest, Hermione, suspecting Ron might be there and unwilling to delay further, also threw a stone into the town.
After the stone received a warm welcome from the town’s “residents,” the two of them gave up on the idea of entering directly.
However, compared to the other group, they still had some advantages.
“I always feel that the layout of this town is a bit strange.”
“What do you mean?”
Hermione mused, “Look at the houses. They’re all the same size, square, and evenly spaced… If we consider them as squares, with the gaps between the houses and the streets as grid lines, then…”
Before she could finish, Harry understood her meaning and clapped his hands together excitedly. “Then, this town is like a giant chessboard, and those stone figures are the pieces! Haha, no wonder I thought they looked familiar!”
Seeing Harry’s excitement, Hermione couldn’t help but pour cold water on it. “But we still don’t know how to get in!”
“Uh…”
Harry scratched his head, racking his brain, recalling his past experiences playing chess with Ron.
After a long time, he proposed an idea. “Do you think the way to enter the town might be like playing chess?”
Hermione, whose Wizard Chess skills were abysmal, frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, this chessboard town might be some kind of endgame. The safest way for us to enter it is likely by entering as pieces, revitalizing the entire game, and allowing the endgame to continue!”
The more Harry spoke, the more sense it made. He looked at Hermione expectantly.
Hermione’s expression was serious, but in reality, she was bewildered.
But she wouldn’t show it. She just nodded thoughtfully and replied, “It’s very possible… What do you plan to do?”
Harry, having received her approval, became even happier. “Of course, we need to see what the endgame is first and then decide how to intervene. It would be great if Ron were here. His skill level is very high, and he could deduce it even without seeing the whole board. I can’t; I need to see the positions of all the pieces!”
Saying this, he hit his palm in frustration. “Damn it, we didn’t bring brooms in!”
The Chessboard Town was so large that to see the whole picture, one could only fly up and look down from above.
Just as he was feeling frustrated, Hermione said with a strange expression, “No, we have a broom.”
“Ah? You brought one?” Harry instinctively looked at Hermione’s satchel. In his memory, that satchel, identical to Vaughn’s, had recently started to resemble a bottomless bag.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
Her family wasn’t like the Potters, who could pile Gold Galleons in their Gringotts vault. As a witch from a Muggle background, Hermione could only exchange a limited amount of pounds sterling for a few dozen Galleons each year based on her student status. After buying textbooks and reference books, there was little left.
She couldn’t afford a broom.
She raised the paintbrush in her hand and shook it. “Did you forget? The Wish Brush. We can use it to paint a broom!”
……
“Oh—the clever Miss Granger has understood the function of the reward from the last round!”
High above, Dumbledore, looking down at the scene below, was like a Muggle engrossed in their favorite TV show, laughing heartily.
“I like your design, Vaughn. The levels are interconnected. The reward from the last level is likely the prop for the next. No redundancy, no waste, full of fun!”
He then asked Vaughn curiously, “Did you get these ideas from Muggle games?”
“Arcade games, to be precise.”
Although Dumbledore was full of praise, Vaughn wasn’t particularly excited because, in his opinion, all of this was rather crude and far from his original vision.
After all, this painted world was not created by him; it was just an experiment!
Compared to observing the Chosen One’s trial, he was more concerned with how this world functioned.
Vaughn’s eyes glowed with a faint blue light as he observed every trace of operation within the painted world.
In his magically illuminated eyes, this miracle created by Alchemy was revealing its true nature—ubiquitous symbols!
They floated in the air, hidden in the earth, coursed through the forest, and flowed in the streams.
Even the sun hanging in the distant sky was made of stacked symbols.
This was the most diverse and numerous collection of symbols Vaughn had ever seen in an alchemical creation. The symbols made by the Twins for the Pro-Magic Rubber Layer were like dust compared to this!
“…The sun seems to contain 29 symbols. Fire and wind are the base, representing its energy attributes and material form, respectively. The other 27 are variants, defining its framework, rules, and movement…”
“The air is similar. Wind is the base, with fire, water, and earth as auxiliary elements, combining into at least hundreds of variant symbols, allowing the air to flow as wind, bringing heat, humidity, and dust, everything as if it were real…”
Various lights reflected in Vaughn’s eyes, which he identified, confirmed, and classified, then recorded one by one in his Memory Archive and on the notebook in his hand.
He was like an engineer, dismantling and analyzing a massive, intricate instrument, trying to understand its operating principles.
But the more he analyzed and recorded, the more shocked he became. Finally, he couldn’t help but ask:
“Albus, how many symbols did you use to create this painted world?”
“36 basic symbols, 34,272 variant symbols.” Dumbledore answered casually while watching the “plot progress” below. “The specific number of symbols is much larger, around 3 million.”
Vaughn looked at him. “You summoned over 3 million symbols from Aether in just over two months?”
Dumbledore turned around and smiled.
Perhaps it was Old Dumbledore’s usual absentmindedness and flippancy that made people instinctively overlook the terrifying power he possessed behind his joking demeanor.
For instance, at this moment, Vaughn once again clearly realized what an Alchemy Master was, and what the greatest White Wizard of this century was!
Of course, it would be even better if he didn’t talk.
“How about it? Don’t you want to learn? If you’re willing to sign a blood pact with me, I might consider being your tutor!”
Dumbledore said with a smile, like the Big Bad Wolf tempting Little Red Riding Hood.
Hearing “blood pact,” Vaughn, who had felt a slight flicker of interest, immediately returned to his usual calm:
“Heh heh!”
A short laugh, which conveyed his attitude and left much to ponder.
Dumbledore was actually very pleased that Vaughn was interested in Alchemy.
The longer they interacted, the more he sensed Vaughn’s terrifying talent. He could learn anything instantly, and grasp any theory or idea with a single stroke.
In his eyes, such intelligence and talent almost guaranteed him to become the next White Lord or Dark Lord.
Based on his personal ideals and aspirations, Dumbledore believed that a wizard with such exceptional talent as Vaughn should immerse himself in the pursuit of truth for his entire life, rather than being obsessed with worldly power.
An Alchemy Master, a Potions Master, or a Legendary Wizard would cause far less destruction than an out-of-control ambitious schemer.
The former’s power came from within himself. Even if he could advance magic to unimaginable heights in the future, he couldn’t destroy Muggles or wizards.
The latter was not necessarily the case. Ambitious schemers would incite division, lead wars, and inject poisonous values and hatred into people’s hearts. Even if the schemer ultimately failed, the rifts they caused would continue to accumulate and be passed down among wizards and Muggles.
And then, one day, they would erupt completely!
Therefore, when he noticed Vaughn’s talent in Alchemy and his interest in it, Dumbledore, who hadn’t created any alchemical items for a long time, picked up the craft he had once been famous for.
Vaughn wanted to explore Aether, so he happily appeared and, despite his outward reluctance, willingly played the role of a mentor.
When Vaughn wanted to use the trial of Harry as an opportunity to see if Alchemy could realize his ideas, Old Dumbledore was just as busy.
Moreover, Dumbledore did not mention that in order to successfully create the painted world, he had also used a treasure of Hogwarts.
Alchemy was based on symbols, but symbols also needed corresponding materials to carry them. For example, the Pro-Magic Rubber Layer invented by the Twins also required Mithril amalgam as a base.
The material capable of carrying a “world” certainly couldn’t be developed by Dumbledore in just over two months.
Fortunately, Hogwarts still had some reserves.
In addition to the four founders, Hogwarts had cultivated countless wizards over the millennia. Some of them liked to donate their books, notes, and research results to their alma mater—the extremely rich school library, and the terrifying mountain of trash in the Room of Requirement were just the tip of the iceberg.
Such donations were usually divided into two extremes: either worthless junk or priceless treasures.
The foundation of the painted world belonged to the latter, a donation from a graduate alumnus about a hundred years ago.
That unknown alchemist had attempted to imitate an alchemical marvel by Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black. Fitzgerald was the guardian of Hogwarts’ secrets. In his lifetime, he had compiled the Tales of Beedle the Bard, which he had heard in his childhood, into a magic book.
Anyone who read the text on the book would enter the world within it and face trials by Death.
This was a verifiable alchemical marvel, the first to construct another “world” outside of reality and Aether.
Unfortunately, for some unknown reason, the book later disappeared, and Fitzgerald also vanished from the portrait in the Headmaster’s Office.
All of this happened before Dumbledore enrolled, so he was not privy to the specific details.
Dumbledore only knew that someone later attempted to recreate Fitzgerald’s book, but the progress was not smooth. He spent most of his life struggling with materials—the material capable of carrying a world, capable of carrying over 3 million symbols, was certainly not as “simple and cheap” as Mithril amalgam!
By the time that person donated it to his alma mater before his death, the painted world, titled Death’s Trial, had only just begun.
Therefore, after hearing Vaughn describe some of his virtual reality concepts, Dumbledore took out this priceless treasure, intending to show Vaughn something spectacular.
But upon hearing Vaughn’s enigmatic laugh, Dumbledore felt a bit disappointed.
He truly wished Vaughn would agree and sign the blood pact with him, so that he could give him his unreserved trust and fulfill his promise to teach him his life’s accumulated knowledge.
Unfortunately, outstanding individuals always yearned for freedom and spontaneity, detesting others dictating their lives and choices.
Just like himself in the past!
Sighing inwardly, Dumbledore, who had not held much hope to begin with, said nothing more and refocused his gaze downwards.
The white clouds formed by the operation of symbols floated at the bottom of the flying carpet, but they did not obscure what was happening below, including the booming narration:
“The heroes and the dragon’s kin have successfully entered Chessboard Town. Group A, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, have chosen the White side. Group B, Quirrell and Ron Weasley, have entered as the Black side. Both have replaced the pawns!”
“This is a brutal battle, with no draws and no concessions, only fierce combat. Kill the enemy king to achieve ultimate victory!”
Harry, who had used the Wish Brush to draw a flying broomstick and ascended to observe the chessboard, and Ron almost simultaneously deduced the entry point for the endgame.
The moment they found the crucial juncture, a magic enveloped them, and according to the previous grouping, they were teleported into the chessboard formation.
Harry, groggy, came to his senses. The magic, similar to Apparition, had muddled his mind, as if his brain had been thoroughly shaken. After a moment of confusion, he heard someone shouting, “Harry! Harry! Wake up!”
Harry patted his head, barely regaining some clarity, and looked up!
The scene that met his eyes made him part his mouth slightly.
At some point, the town, which had previously been filled with square houses, had completely transformed into a giant chessboard. It was flat and vast, stretching out before his vision like a plain, creating an illusion of endlessness.
Wisps of mist rose from the black and white squares, making him feel as if he were in the clouds.
Hermione was not far from him, standing on a massive pillar, like the suits of armor commonly found in Hogwarts corridors, striking a strange pose with a sword in hand.
The shout had come from her, and…
Harry looked further into the distance and saw that in the heart of the Black side, two black pillars had also been erected, one after the other. Two familiar figures were crouched on them, one with red hair constantly calling his name.
“Ron… Ron!”
Harry fully came to his senses and also noticed Quirrell, his head wrapped in a scarf, beside Ron.
No… he wasn’t just Quirrell, he was the Dark Lord!
“Ron, get away from him quickly!”
Harry yelled, trying to call his friend back. He wanted to run over and pull his good friend away from that dangerous figure.
