hotmtlnovel Chapter 17 This is a trap for me
Chapter 17 This is a trap for me
Orochimaru's pale yellow vertical pupils silently scanned the suggestions on the piece of paper.
"What does it say?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"Can't you see, Professor?" Orochimaru looked up at Dumbledore, who was leaning over.
The white-bearded wizard shook his head.
Nicolas Flamel put away his wand, closed the book with the phoenix relief, and explained tremblingly:
"The answers on the pages can only be seen by yourself; no one else can know them."
Nicolas Flamel turned around, pondered for a moment, as if trying to recall what metaphor to use.
Dumbledore, being younger, understood the mechanism of this last page of the Book of Abraham the Jews.
"Just like the Mirror of Erised, am I right, Nico?"
"Yes, it's that mirror." Nicolas Flamel nodded slowly. "This is an answer that belongs only to you, a secret that belongs only to you, child. Whatever he tells you, you can try to believe him."
I refuse.
After hearing Nicolas Flamel and Dumbledore's explanations, Orochimaru already harbored deep prejudices against them.
He, or rather the ninjas, always maintained sufficient vigilance regarding the authenticity of information.
Often, even intelligence obtained at the cost of one's life is nothing more than a carefully orchestrated deception.
The last page of the Book of Abraham, which was supposed to answer all questions, seemed to Orochimaru more like a trap set by Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel.
How can one influence someone who is single-mindedly pursuing immortality and power?
Sarutobi-sensei's answer was to cleanse his soul with the Will of Fire, with the love and faith of Konoha.
And Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, who can be called the god of wizarding, also chose a similar approach.
As long as you trust this page, you will be subtly and unconsciously influenced by it, becoming the shape that Professor Dumbledore hopes you will become.
Just like a poor pocket.
Orochimaru didn't even bother to hide his usual smile, a mocking expression that he couldn't help but show when he was being teased.
A slight smirk appeared on Orochimaru's face, his expression cold and indifferent, a smile that was half mocking and half sarcastic.
Even though Dumbledore was a veteran of countless battles, and even though Nicolas Flamel had lived for six hundred years and was very knowledgeable, they still couldn't help but feel a chill.
Orochimaru is not responsible for this.
He simply watched the palm-sized piece of paper continue to shrink until it was the size of a coin, then nonchalantly stuffed it into his shirt pocket.
Dumbledore was stunned.
Nicolas Flamel's aged face was also filled with doubt.
"My child, you seem to distrust the Book of Abraham the Jew? That is the source from which I created the Philosopher's Stone."
"Mr. Nicolas Flamel, please forgive my arrogance."
Orochimaru looked around the laboratory filled with alchemy equipment, but couldn't help recalling the scene of his first time entering the Ninja Academy.
No background, no talent, no mentor...
He had nothing to be proud of, nothing that made him stand out.
but……
"I will forge my own magic stone, without relying on any person or thing."
Orochimaru spoke softly, just as he had when he had resolutely used his own body to test the Reanimation Jutsu.
"I will find my own path to immortality and eternal life."
Although he failed last time, Orochimaru would never accept that his life was merely a tool to find the Child of Prophecy, or a vessel to commemorate the glory of the First and Second Hokage and the Senju clan.
He has his own pursuits, and he is unwavering in them.
Upon hearing this, Nicolas Flamel's eyes lit up as if he were seeing Orochimaru for the first time.
As he looked at Mr. Slack Anguis, who was just over eleven years old, memories that had been sealed away for more than five hundred years surfaced in his mind.
Dumbledore was not yet born at that time.
At that time, I was in my prime, full of youthful vigor.
At that time, I was unaware of the vastness of the sky or the immensity of the earth.
At that time...
He was determined to become a great alchemist who would shake the world, the only wizard to pluck the jewel from the crown of alchemy, and the creator and master of the Philosopher's Stone that everyone in the world would envy.
"You remind me of myself back then, you're so similar." Nicolas Flamel touched the corner of his eye.
Cloudy tears welled up there, which was no easy feat for a 600-year-old man.
"I hope you surpass me, child," Nicolas Flamel said, then gently shook his head, even as his neck made a slight cracking sound. "No, you must surpass me."
"Nicole, don't get so agitated, and don't put so much pressure and expectation on the child."
Dumbledore interrupted Nicolas Flamel's outburst.
To be honest, Dumbledore regretted it again after hearing Mr. Slack Anguill's words.
He shouldn't have taken Mr. Anguis to visit Nicolas Flamel out of momentary surprise and a sudden whim.
The fact that Nicolas Flamel, who had lived for six hundred years, was old and pitiful, and was nearing the end of his life, did not diminish Mr. Slack Anguius's yearning for immortality and eternal life.
On the contrary, witnessing Nicolas Flamel's fate only fueled Mr. Slack Anguius's boundless ambition and desire.
This emotion was so intense and pure that even Voldemort's fear of death seemed insignificant in comparison.
This is simply... simply... like a naturally evil little wizard.
The damned thought involuntarily popped into Dumbledore's mind, and he shook his head vigorously to quickly banish it.
He shouldn't have such prejudice against young wizards, especially underage children.
But he's still a human being, and he really can't help but think like that.
Merlin, save me.
Dumbledore sighed inwardly, then turned to look at Nicolas Flamel, his face showing a hint of urgency.
"Ah, Dumbledore, you're in a bit of a hurry," Nicolas Flamel said before Dumbledore could speak. "The thing is in the alcove; I'll give it to you right away."
As soon as he finished speaking, Nicolas Flamel hurriedly took a small decorative bag from the wall.
The bag was heavy and greasy, and you could tell at a glance that it had been there for years.
Dumbledore took it, his gaze lingering on Orochimaru for a moment, before deciding to try again.
"Mr. Anguiz, do you know what's in this bag?"
"I guess it's the Philosopher's Stone, Professor."
Dumbledore neither admitted nor denied it, but just winked mischievously at Orochimaru, as if to say, "I'm looking forward to your performance."
Orochimaru ignored this.
Dumbledore wasn't in a hurry. He gently placed his hand on Orochimaru's shoulder, then turned to Nicolas Flamel, looking at his old friend who hadn't solved his problem but had instead escalated it, and said goodbye:
"Then see you on the 3rd of next month. Give my regards to Perenaar."
"I will. Goodbye, Dumbledore." Nicolas Flamel nodded, then looked at Orochimaru, "And you, little wizard who amazed me, may your path always be beautiful and ever-changing."
"I will, Mr. Nicolas Flamel." Orochimaru nodded slowly, with a hint of admiration. "It's a pity I didn't meet you sooner, but it's not too late now."
“That’s right. After all, it’s never too late to start a friendship, is it?” Nicolas Flamel said, then suddenly paused. “Dumbledore, who said that again?”
"A self-righteous idiot."
Dumbledore sighed and replied.
The next second, Orochimaru didn't hear the idiot's name, but sensed the fluctuations of space-time ninjutsu emanating from Dumbledore.
Orochimaru wisely closed his eyes.
Once he calmed down again, the familiar scent wafted into his nostrils.
It was a blend of gin and whiskey, with a hint of carefully prepared spices.
Some people smoke, but the tobacco is a bit damp and doesn't smell as fragrant and tempting as the one Orochimaru once smelled.
When he opened his eyes, the dilapidated bar counter was already in front of Orochimaru.
The bartender was a bald old man who looked like a shriveled walnut. He trembled with excitement when he saw Dumbledore standing next to Orochimaru.
"Dumbledore, what brings you here!"
"Oh, Tom, I'm flattered by your compliment." Dumbledore chuckled, tapping the bar as usual. "Give me a refreshing drink, extra sweet."
As Dumbledore spoke, he leaned down to look at Orochimaru.
"Would you like a cup too? Wizard's energy drinks taste really good as long as you add sugar."
"it is good."
Orochimaru does as he pleases.
Upon hearing Orochimaru's answer, Tom, the owner of the Broken Cauldron, realized that there was someone else standing next to Dumbledore.
After all these years, a young wizard has actually been brought to the Leaky Cauldron by Dumbledore himself?
Tom couldn't recall it for a moment, but he still showed a touch of kindness.
"Get him a sweet lemonade to perk him up; it's non-alcoholic," Tom suggested. "And by the way, are you dining here, Dumbledore?"
"No, no need."
As Dumbledore spoke, he casually booked a hotel room for Orochimaru for almost a month.
This surprised Orochimaru somewhat, but he didn't ask any further questions. He roughly understood what the god of wizards meant.
Before the start of the semester, it's best to stay in the Leaky Cauldron and not go back to Little Huiglin, so as not to affect his jinchūriki, Harry.
Orochimaru found it somewhat laughable. He could tell that Dumbledore made this decision in a hurry and with some embarrassment, as if it were a last-minute decision made out of necessity.
After doing all this, Dumbledore gave Tom, the tavern owner, a few more instructions.
"If you have time, I hope you can take Mr. Anguis to Diagon Alley to buy some school supplies," Dumbledore said, turning to Orochimaru and gently patting his pocket. "I have some more important things to do, so I must go first."
Dumbledore downed the energy drink on the bar in one gulp and then hurriedly left.
Thus, Orochimaru only knew one person in the entire bar.
Tom, the bald boss, frowned slightly, looking somewhat troubled, and asked softly:
"Mr. Anguis, please forgive my intrusion, but did Professor Dumbledore leave you any money?"
"I don't think so, sir." Orochimaru chuckled sinisterly.