This was definitely not good news.
"Did he mention what he's planning to do?" Dumbledore asked.
Snape shook his head and sneered. "Albus, Potter already told you: Crouch has tampered with his own mind, his memories have been altered."
"If he could remember those plans, Potter would have already dug them out."
"You know, his nose is as sharp as a hound's."
Dumbledore reassured him, "Severus, you don't have to be like that. Harry already anticipated something like this might happen."
Crouch had never been one to settle down peacefully.
Even if he was imprisoned and forced into sleep all day, nobody would ever believe that he would just sit still and do nothing.
Rats hiding in the gutters are always the hardest to guard against.
You never know when they might scuttle out from some dark corner.
Harry had been deeply worried that something like this might happen.
That's why he told Ron and Neville to keep an eye on the Room of Requirement.
On the Order of the Phoenix's side, Harry had given plenty of suggestions as well.
Snape didn't respond, simply staring coldly at Dumbledore.
"We currently can't reach Harry," the old white-haired man said softly. "Neither Geralt nor Yennefer can contact him either."
Snape turned his head away, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Albus, are you sick again?"
"Who would care about Potter?"
"It's the Dark Lord's business—they must be preparing for something."
Dumbledore smiled gently at him.
Snape continued, "Nagini—that snake. What's the situation on that end?"
"I have no way to get there."
Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "I already arranged for Rita and Hestia to monitor things."
"Jones is a decent witch, but that Skeeter woman…" Snape's tone grew heavy.
Dumbledore raised his hand and lightly tapped the air.
A small mirror floated over.
He murmured an incantation over it.
The surface of the mirror shimmered with magic, flickering for a moment before displaying an image.
In the mirror appeared a kindly-looking, elderly woman. She was dressed in a long, deep-green robe, holding her wand, which glowed softly as she maintained a charm.
Her voice was gentle. "Albus?"
"My dear Hestia, how are things going over there?" Dumbledore asked.
Hestia chuckled with mild exasperation. "Everything's fine."
"That snake called Nagini is behaving well, just staying in the forest."
"It's just... the close surveillance work is being handled by Rita. Sometimes she can be rather annoying—just like a beetle buzzing around."
Snape leaned closer. "You're sure no one has approached Nagini?"
"Or that any other creature has come near?"
Hestia nodded. "Professor Snape, you're there too? Of course, I'm sure."
"My charms are pretty decent."
"No one has come near during this time. I even counted all the snakes in the forest with magic. Aside from Nagini, there are no newcomers."
This was something Harry had specifically requested.
Parseltongue messages could be passed through snakes.
Even if Voldemort had not fully resurrected, the Horcrux could regain some of its intelligence with enough sacrifices.
Snape remained silent.
"Hestia, thank you for your hard work," Dumbledore said kindly.
Hestia huffed, "If you really appreciate it, Albus, send someone else to help me as soon as possible."
"Rita's spellcasting is terrible. She told me she got an 'E' in her OWLs, but I don't think she even deserves an 'A.'"
Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Of course, I will."
"Gideon and Fabian are quite busy, but they should be available in a week or so."
"Dedalus, however, is free—"
The first two names made Hestia smile with relief.
Those were two reliable wizards: Molly Weasley's brothers. They were as steady and mature as Molly herself.
But at the mention of the last name, her expression changed dramatically.
"No, Albus," she shook her head urgently, her tone serious. "Not him. If it's between him and Sirius, I'd rather you send Sirius. At least he's gotten more reliable lately."
Dedalus had once been known as the "Headless One," alongside Sirius.
But now...
Sirius had turned over a new leaf. He was widely recognized as having finally grown a brain. Though he still carried that boyish charm—likely because he had never been in a proper relationship—at least he now listened to reason and considered others' advice.
Only Dedalus remained unchanged, eternally sincere and oblivious.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Sirius is not suitable."
"But Remus could be. How about I send him over to help you?" Dumbledore suggested.
Hestia nodded, visibly relieved. "That would be wonderful, Albus. You do still know how to pick reliable helpers."
They chatted a bit longer before ending the communication.
Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, do you feel reassured now?"
"Harry accounted for everything."
"Even something as small as Nagini, he planned for. How could he possibly not prepare for his own journey?"
He paused for a moment. "And, Severus, we both know that Harry lived in that world longer than he has at Hogwarts. He has far more experience."
"Even Geralt, who's as old as I am, said Harry is a mature and reliable Witcher."
"Harry will be fine."
"Albus," Snape's voice was cold and rigid, "I told you, I'm not concerned about that foolish boy."
"I'll try reaching out to Crouch more, see if I can trick him into revealing the identity of the last person or their location."
"Or find out if the Dark Lord has any more Horcruxes."
Dumbledore hid a smile.
A small victory—Snape's stubborn defensiveness was not a common sight.
Snape shot him a glare, whipping his robes as he stormed out.
If professors could deduct points from the headmaster, he would definitely have shouted, "Albus Dumbledore, for your ridiculous and nauseating assumptions, I'm deducting fifty points!"
At that moment.
He actually missed Potter.
After all, in the entire history of Hogwarts, only Harry Potter had ever managed to put the headmaster in detention.
The wizarding world was simmering with tension.
Meanwhile, in the other world...
After a full day of traveling, Harry and Hermione finally reached the border outpost before nightfall.
Unlike the sparse, barren lands they had crossed before, signs of human life were far more apparent here.
Hermione also witnessed one of the most notorious sights of this world—the hanging corpses from withered trees.
Some were already mummified.
Some were fresher, swarming with flies, emitting a pungent, dizzying stench.
Outside the outpost, a large crowd huddled around their carts, curled up as if it were their only sanctuary.
The road was blocked and narrowed.
Harry and Hermione had to dismount, walking towards the bridge guarded by sentries.
The dusk made it hard to see their faces.
But their fine robes, polished and elegant, and the youthful, unblemished aura around them were unmistakable, even in the fading light.
The moment they dismounted, a swarm of refugees surged forward.
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates