The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 4 1 Photograph

Dumbledore did not answer.

He couldn't help but turn his head away, avoiding Lynch's gaze, and turn his attention to the small flame still burning in the fireplace.

The few orange flames in the fireplace danced on the firewood, which crackled softly, and Dumbledore's long, silvery beard was bathed in a warm orange glow in the flickering firelight.

Dumbledore stared intently at the tiny flame, his thoughts drifting away to who-knows-where.

Silence spread through the air.

Seeing Dumbledore's shifting gaze, Lynch's tense lips relaxed slightly. His slender fingers steadily picked up the teacup, and he took a small sip, savoring the brief but distinct bitterness on his tongue.

But Dumbledore's silence did not last long.

The firewood in the hearth crackled and popped as it burned a knot, the flames leaping upwards and startling Dumbledore awake. The firelight illuminated his face as he looked up again.

He answered Lin Qi's question, his voice still deep, but the gentle, soothing tone that used to soothe the listener had disappeared, replaced by a cold, hard, and unquestionable authority.

"I will save that little girl and make sure she is never hurt again."

"Then I will personally escort those dark wizards to Wizengamot for trial."

"I will ensure that they receive the most severe and fair trial in Wisengamo, and that their cells in Azkaban will be their final resting place in their long lives."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on Lynch: "And I can assure you, Azkaban is more than just bad..."

Lynch lowered his eyes, shielding them from Dumbledore's piercing gaze, his eyes fixed on the simple teacup in his hand.

At this moment, there is still more than half a cup of tea left in the teacup, but the clear liquid has long lost its initial temperature, and the cup wall transmits only a lukewarm coolness to the fingertips.

He stared intently at the surface of the tea, finally catching a few wisps of extremely thin, phantom-like white steam rising from the tea only to vanish into the air in an instant.

"A fair choice as expected."

Lin Qi raised his hand, tilted his head back, and drank the remaining cold tea in his cup in one gulp.

The empty cup was gently placed back on the table, making a barely audible sound.

Lynch raised his head, his calm and determined gaze meeting Dumbledore's sharp stare.

"But that's not the path I want to take," his calm voice echoed in the room.

The calm words reached Dumbledore's ears, yet contained the unwavering will of their speaker.

Dumbledore closed his eyes in anguish. At that moment, he clearly realized that although they were all acting out of a sense of justice, they were not on the same path.

There is an irreconcilable, fundamental difference between the two.

This cold, hard truth broke his heart, but it wasn't enough to destroy him.

Albus Dumbledore, President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Archmage Merlin, Head Wizard of Wizengamor, and the greatest Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reopened his eyes.

"Then you will have endless time to follow your path..." He paused slightly, "right here."

"I hope things will turn out as you said, and I will spend the rest of my life here."

A smile returned to Lin Qi's face.

"But unfortunately, Headmaster Dumbledore, things in this world don't always go as planned."

Lynch stretched out his right hand, flat and facing upwards. A Galleon appeared above his palm, hovering in the air and slowly rotating.

He brought his five fingers together, pinching the Galleon between his index and middle fingers. Then he rotated his wrist inward, drawing an arc with the Galleon between his fingers. At the end of the arc, he released his fingers and flung the Galleon away.

The moment it was flung away, Galleons vanished, leaving only a parchment envelope in the air, slowly drifting towards Dumbledore.

Dumbledore reached out and caught the envelope.

His fingers traced the creases on the edge of the envelope as he looked at the blank cover without any signature.

"Perhaps I'm too old, but I don't remember Hagrid giving you such a letter."

"I have to thank that desk. My friend is a wealthy man, but unlike other rich people who pursue extravagance, he is an outlier who pursues practical value."

Lynch rested his elbow on the armrest of the sofa, his right hand casually spread out at his side, his five fingers moving slowly and erratically, while the Galleon coin darted nimbly between his fingers like a goldfish.

Dumbledore looked puzzled. "You seem very relaxed. Are you so confident in the contents of this letter? Do you really believe that I will set you free after reading it?"

Lynch clenched his right fist, holding the Galleon in his palm.

He looked up at Dumbledore: "I won't say that the contents of this letter will make you set me free, but I think it can help us find some common ground and reach a consensus."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes slightly behind his half-moon lenses, opened the envelope, and pulled out a photograph.

The air froze in an instant, immense pressure filled the stone house, the flames in the fireplace stopped flickering, and all sound and activity vanished in that instant.

But it was only for that one moment; the flickering flames on the firewood seemed to be telling Lin Qi that everything that had just happened was an illusion.

"What is this?"

Dumbledore tossed the photo onto the square table and stared at Lynch, asking a question.

Although it was a question, there was no hint of doubt in his tone.

Lynch and Dumbledore exchanged a glance: "You know what this is."

Where did you get this photo?

"In the dark forests of Albania, a friend of mine spent over a year searching and searching before finding some traces. It took him several more months to take this photo. The shooting conditions at the time were not good, so the photo is a bit blurry. I hope you don't mind, Principal."

"A friend? Is it the same friend who gave you the desk?" Dumbledore's tone was tinged with sarcasm.

"It's not the same person, it's another friend of mine," Lynch replied earnestly to Dumbledore.

On the photographic paper on the table, in a pitch-black forest, a slender white shadow flashes past from a corner. Although the white shadow moves very quickly, it is still clear that it is a snake.

Behind the snake's head, a slightly ferocious human face suddenly appeared.

Dumbledore sighed softly: "It seems this letter has indeed found common ground between us."

"But Mr. Lynch, a single photograph is not enough to secure your freedom. Rumors about Voldemort in the Dark Forest of Albania have been circulating quietly in the wizarding world, and you have only proven those rumors."

"And proving this rumor won't change anything; a weakened Voldemort poses no threat to anyone."

"Are you sure, Headmaster Dumbledore?" Lynch gestured for him to speak. "Perhaps the back of the photograph will change your mind."

Dumbledore flicked his finger, and the photograph on the small table was flipped over by an invisible force, revealing its back.

"It seems that you and I do need to reach some consensus, Mr. Lynch."

Dumbledore's voice sounded ethereal, as if it came from beyond the heavens.

A smile appeared on Lynch's face.