156- As long as Voldemort is resurrected, Dumbledore will have no time to bother us

156- As long as Voldemort is resurrected, Dumbledore will have no time to bother us

Gasps echoed through the stadium as many witches and wizards instinctively covered their mouths in disbelief.

In their understanding, being bitten by a werewolf was synonymous with being infected with lycanthropy—especially on a full moon night, when werewolves had transformed. A bite was almost a guaranteed infection.

Tonight's werewolf, although forcibly reverted to human form by the Human Restoration Charm, was still a werewolf, and tonight was still a full moon!

A sense of shock spread through the air above the Quidditch stadium.

The source of all this, Dumbledore, remained emotionally unperturbed. He simply tended to the wound on the back of his hand and, with the aid of the Sonorous Charm, addressed all the witches and wizards present.

"Once a werewolf has been treated with the Human Restoration Charm, they are no different from any ordinary wizard. Contact with them will not result in infection. I, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, am willing to personally guarantee this with my own actions. These unfortunate witches and wizards need only a few more applications of the Charm, and they will fully recover."

Upon hearing Dumbledore's words, the witches and wizards present understood his intent: Dumbledore was offering his personal guarantee, endorsing the efficacy of the Human Restoration Charm.

From now on, the situation for werewolves was truly set to change. The greatest wizard of the current age had personally proven that werewolves treated with the Human Restoration Charm were not contagious.

Werewolves could finally live normal lives.

"A wizard with great foresight," the elderly man with curly hair muttered as he watched Dumbledore in the center of the field, his eyes filled with wariness.

Today, the old man had personally experienced Dumbledore's methods. From the moment Dumbledore allowed the werewolf's teeth to graze and cut the skin on the back of his hand, the old man marked him as the Secret Order's primary adversary.

The existence of someone like Dumbledore could greatly hinder the Secret Order's plans.

Fortunately, Dumbledore was now extremely old. And, he seemed reluctant to leave Hogwarts. Whether it was Grindelwald before or Voldemort later, Dumbledore's behavior had been strikingly consistent in the face of these Dark Lords: he rarely left the confines of Hogwarts Castle.

The old man with the curly hair began quietly calculating how to deal with this formidable enemy.

He had no intention of engaging Dumbledore in direct conflict—such an approach would be unwise. There had been a mishap during the organization's recent operation in northern Scotland, where an ancient divine corpse had escaped, and it was Dumbledore who had intervened to suppress it.

From this, the old man deduced that Dumbledore's power was at least equal to his own.

Fighting someone like that was too risky.

At that moment, Rhys gently placed his hand on her shoulder, and a wave of cold magic flowed into her, bringing a soothing calmness to her mind.

This cool sensation, like a refreshing stream, washed away her anxiety. It circled around her head before dissipating from the top, taking her unease and worries along with it.

She calmed down: with Rhys and Professor Dumbledore here, there was no way these three strange people's plan would succeed.

Besides, resurrecting Voldemort couldn't be that easy. If it were, why hadn't any Death Eaters tried to bring him back over the past decade?

Though Daphne had regained her composure, Rhys sighed quietly to himself. The topics these three were discussing were too advanced for a child like Daphne.

Realizing that the conversation was inappropriate for her to overhear, Rhys decided to take her away from the scene.

He took Daphne's hand, and without a sound, they floated into the air, silently drifting away from the spectator tower toward another secluded corner.

The Secret Order's trio continued to eagerly discuss their plan to resurrect Voldemort, completely unaware of Rhys's departure. Only Capricornus glanced upward with a puzzled expression as Rhys flew away, sensing something strange for a brief moment.

But just as quickly, his companions resumed their conversation, dispelling any lingering unease.

As soon as they reappeared in a quiet corner, Daphne turned to Rhys and said, "We—"

"We should continue watching the experiment," Rhys interrupted her, staring directly into Daphne's eyes as he slowly and deliberately said, "Forget about those three. They have nothing to do with you."

"What are you planning to do?" Daphne persisted, unwilling to let it go. She was certain Rhys would take some sort of action.

"I'll just send an anonymous letter to Dumbledore later," Rhys replied nonchalantly, gesturing for Daphne to pay attention to the unfolding events on the field.

Daphne puffed out her cheeks in frustration again. She'd bet all her pocket money that Rhys was lying—there was no way he'd settle for something as simple as an anonymous letter. She knew Rhys too well.

The full moon hung high in the sky, and the night in the Scottish Highlands was growing damp and cold.

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