Chapter 328 — The Prophecy of a Turning Point
"He still wants to know about that prophecy?"
Dumbledore sat upright at a large mahogany table, his fingertips pressed together. He looked up at the black-robed man standing beside him with his azure eyes and asked in a deep voice.
There was an undeniable weariness in his tone.
He had been somewhat tired lately.
Bad news kept coming.
The recent attack on Arthur Weasley at the Ministry of Magic had made him even more nervous. Perhaps it indicated that Lord Voldemort's influence had now extended into the Ministry of Magic.
Their plan needed to be accelerated.
Otherwise, more innocent people would be sacrificed.
The Dark Lord's cruelty was merely the tip of the iceberg.
Dumbledore ran his strong fingers over a piece of gray parchment covered in dense black writing.
The letter contained news that had not yet spread and had not been reported by The Daily Prophet.
The current Headmaster of Durmstrang, Igor Karkaroff, was dead.
He had died in his office.
He had been killed by the Killing Curse.
He had collapsed in front of his desk, his chest completely pierced, all the blood drained from his body.
The Killing Curse itself did not normally produce such an effect. From the state of the corpse, it could be inferred that Karkaroff had been tortured before being brutally murdered.
When some teachers went looking for him, they had assumed he was merely asleep and did not dare disturb him, so they quietly left.
There had been no smell of blood.
He was not discovered until at least three days after his death.
However, the news had not spread.
For the sake of maintaining stability.
Even though Durmstrang's location was kept secret, it obviously could not be concealed from a wizard of Lord Voldemort's caliber.
Dumbledore's schedule had been packed.
Not long after he stepped down and left Hogwarts, Snape had been unable even to report intelligence to him. Owl post was not safe either; no one could guarantee that their messages would not be intercepted.
Only today had the two of them finally found an opportunity to meet.
This was the new office of the Ministry of Magic's Emergency Response and Security Division.
In other words, it was the place where Dumbledore often stayed.
At present, he was the only person stationed here.
He was essentially a commander without an army.
His thick silver eyebrows rose, making him appear energetic as he forcibly suppressed his exhaustion.
He pondered the reasons behind Lord Voldemort's obsession with the prophecy and what impact it might have.
Lord Voldemort was a paradox.
He was convinced of his own power and obsessed with the authority that came with supreme power, yet at the same time, he was superstitious about prophecy—something ethereal and unreal.
If someone were truly fearless, they would surely scoff at such things.
His superstition had ultimately led to his defeat in the First Wizarding War.
At the time, Lord Voldemort had been at the height of his power and influence, capable of confronting and even defeating any wizard except Dumbledore.
But that distinction was meaningless.
Dumbledore could not kill Lord Voldemort at all.
His advantage perhaps lay only in his age and his deeper understanding of magic.
However, this did not play a particularly significant role in combat, because Lord Voldemort could overcome that disadvantage in other ways.
For example, with Avada Kedavra.
It was a spell Dumbledore would never use, while Lord Voldemort could cast it without hesitation.
Lord Voldemort also had more followers.
Although their strengths varied, several of them were powerful wizards who were equally ruthless and uninhibited.
Therefore, most of the time, the Order of the Phoenix and the Aurors were forced into a passive defensive position.
Lord Voldemort had still been in his prime at that time, and he had created seven Horcruxes.
If he had simply been patient enough to wait until Dumbledore died naturally, perhaps the history of wizarding society would have been completely rewritten.
But everything he had built was destroyed by a prophecy from an unknown witch and by Snape's unintentional role in bringing it to his attention.
A witch who often made inaccurate predictions had unknowingly changed the course of wizarding society with one prophecy years ago.
It was probably something she herself had never imagined.
Trelawney's prophecy at the Hog's Head Inn had been overheard by Snape, who then reported it to Lord Voldemort.
Lord Voldemort believed it.
With a little reasoning, it became clear that small details could determine victory or defeat.
After Lord Voldemort decided to kill Harry, Snape pleaded with him to spare only Harry's mother—the woman he loved most.
Lord Voldemort agreed, feeling that it was appropriate to grant this request to the subordinate who had provided him with the intelligence.
And that was where a subtle difference emerged.
If he had simply killed the Potters from the beginning, perhaps everything would have ended there.
But instead, he gave Lily a chance to sacrifice herself.
If she had been killed directly, it would have meant that Lily had no other choice, and the sacrifice would have lost its meaning.
That was precisely what changed the final outcome.
"Don't kill Harry, please, have mercy. I'll do anything you want. Just kill me."
Those were Lily's final words before she died.
That subtle difference created a protective spell born from a mother's love.
Lord Voldemort's deadly curse was deflected.
His mother's great love caused the seemingly invincible Dark Lord to fall from grace, turning the once-feared demon into a wretched soul barely clinging to life, worse than a maggot and reduced to wandering through the wilderness.
"Yes. He longs to know why he failed, and perhaps the answer lies in the latter part of the prophecy."
Snape spoke expressionlessly.
"There's no secret reason."
Dumbledore shook his head, his long silver hair swaying as he spoke in a tone that sounded almost like a sigh.
"It isn't a secret. I told him plainly that he is obsessed with pursuing his own power while ignoring something else. Unfortunately, he doesn't believe me."
Snape remained silent.
His entire body was concealed beneath his black robes. He stood stiffly, quietly watching the old man before him, perhaps lost in endless and painful memories.
An unspoken silence and sorrowful atmosphere suddenly filled the space between them.
They were both people who had suffered and grown stronger because of that so-called most powerful weapon.
"Do you want me to tell him that?"
Snape made a rare attempt at a joke, though there was little humor in it. His deep black eyes remained fixed on Dumbledore.
"Of course not."
Dumbledore's deep blue eyes gleamed with a distinctive light of wisdom.
"Go and find Trelawney for me."
"Professor, tell her…"
Dumbledore slowly laid out his plan.
On Monday, Professor Trelawney resumed her Divination classes.
As always, her lectures were vague and difficult to explain, let alone understand.
The classroom was filled with incense.
The light from the cloth-covered lamps was dim, while the weak fire burning in the stove emitted an unpleasant smell.
Trelawney sat at a round wooden table, placing her hands, adorned with sparkling jewelry, upon its surface.
Some students guessed that she was simply too heavy and needed to rest for a moment.
The professor always wore a thick shawl and spectacles that magnified her eyes several times over.
She had begun teaching classes again.