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Room-temperature superconductors and magnetic monopoles.
Words Harry had never even heard of tumbled out of Dumbledore's mouth.
Years ago, he had lent this crossbow to Grindelwald for research. Although its material composition couldn't be analyzed or reverse-engineered, the crossbow had nonetheless validated numerous materials science problems that modern technology was still clueless about.
Room-temperature, normal-pressure superconductors do exist. Materials with a single magnetic pole, thought to exist only in theory, are also real. These were not mere illusions created through Transfiguration to mimic physical properties—fakes incapable of verification. Instead, they were genuine materials that could withstand rigorous testing and produce precise data.
In simple terms, these were ordered structures that should not exist in a chaotic world. Yet, paradoxically, this chaotic world did not reject them. It was akin to a group of Kunlun slaves giving birth to a white-skinned child—one that was indisputably their biological offspring. What's more, these slaves, who harbored a deep hatred for white-skinned people, didn't show even a hint of resistance toward this child. They lived together harmoniously, like one big happy family.
Pure absurdity.
After forcing himself to grasp these concepts, Harry found himself at a loss for words.
To say the wizarding world was stagnant and reliant on tradition was accurate. But to claim that its regression over the past millennium was, in essence, progress was also true. Problems that neither today's wizards nor Muggle scientists could solve had already been addressed a thousand years ago. Whether this should be considered fortunate or tragic, Harry didn't know.
He resented the fact that he wasn't a true "Awakened One." While his magical energy shared similarities with theirs, he lacked many of the crucial, innate abilities they possessed—abilities that could not be acquired no matter how hard he tried.
"Sigh..."
Harry let out a regretful sigh. If only he could travel back a thousand years to learn from Godric Gryffindor, he might have been able to modify his AK-47 electromagnetic rifle into a second-stage Animagus armor component.
"Wait... Animagus alchemical armor?"
Harry muttered softly to himself. If his memory served him correctly, that kindhearted Hufflepuff predecessor...
"What could be more suitable for conducting electricity than solidified lightning?"
The flames conjured by Awakened Ones through rune magic were real flames. The lightning they produced was real lightning—not some imitation conjured by wizards' spells, which merely took on a lifelike appearance. Certi's collection of runes aimed to one day allow him to emulate mythological deities by creating a genuine, self-contained world.
After all, as an Awakened wizard, Certi already had the power to create objects from the void.
A thunderclap roared through Harry's mind.
"Maybe... I can, too?"
Harry silently picked up his teacup and took a sip of the now lukewarm black tea. Then—pfft!
"Who in their right mind puts a ton of sugar in tea?!"
Nearly choking on the overwhelming sweetness, Harry stared at Dumbledore in horror. This overly saccharine concoction was far from drinkable.
Snape, sitting nearby, showed no reaction. His teacup remained untouched, without so much as a sip taken.
"Sweet?" Dumbledore took another sip of his tea—which clearly had a lethal level of sweetness—and smacked his lips with satisfaction. "I think it's just right."
The debate over tea's sweetness successfully diverted attention from Harry's earlier moment of excitement. He wasn't exactly a saint willing to share everything he knew. That was a gift from the respected and beloved Senior Certi. Sharing it publicly? Maybe later, once he had completely mastered the art of creating solidified lightning. For now, Harry didn't want anyone to know about it.
After all, even Senior Certi, an Awakened wizard, hadn't shared this knowledge with the world. Why should he be so generous? As if revealing it would magically lead to mass production. What if he got locked up in some dark room and forced to work like a tool day and night? That would be a nightmare.
The principle of "a man's treasure invites his ruin" was something Harry understood all too well.
"By the way, Professor Snape, are you here to help Professor Dumbledore solve some problem? Could it be that Hufflepuff's Cup can infinitely refill potion bottles now?"
"Of course not," Snape replied with a shake of his head. "Hufflepuff's Everlasting Goblet can only refill wine once the cup is emptied. But that's just a legend. The real goblet no longer seems to possess such a magical property—or perhaps the legend was fabricated from the start."
"I have a deep understanding of dark magic and curses. Voldemort's Horcruxes still carry intact curses—powerful enough to kill."
"Apart from the Cup, both Ravenclaw's Diadem and the Ring are cursed as well. However, I retrieved them in haste and haven't had time to fully break the curses yet."
"Professor Dumbledore can't undo them?" Harry asked, finding it rather surprising.
"Each wizard has their expertise," Snape replied calmly, though a faint smile appeared on his face. "To break curses of this magnitude requires not only extensive knowledge of curses but also a great deal of practical experience."
"Alright, Severus, don't make it sound like you've spent your life doing nothing but wicked deeds," Dumbledore interjected.
"I'm merely stating the facts, Albus. In front of Harry, I don't need to pretend to be noble. I am what I am, and there's no need to hide that from him. I simply do what I want to do. What others consider right or wrong, good or evil, has nothing to do with me."
Snape didn't see himself as a good person. If anything, his inclinations leaned more toward the darker side. Otherwise, he wouldn't have delved so deeply into dark magic, curses, and large-scale lethal potions during his student days. He was skilled at saving lives precisely because he knew better than anyone how to make someone wish for death but be unable to achieve it.
The softness and kindness in his heart had long been dedicated to Lily Evans—and, by extension, to Harry, who had inherited Lily's pure, striking eyes.
Snape reached out and picked up Ravenclaw's Diadem. Both the Diadem and the Ring had been obtained by Dumbledore, while Snape himself had gone to Gringotts to retrieve the Cup. Having gained experience in lifting the curse on the Cup, Snape now handled the other two Horcruxes with remarkable ease.
"Voldemort's curses on the Horcruxes are quite ingenious. Normal contact won't trigger the curses. The more conditions placed on a curse, the stronger its effects. Particularly for curses placed on inanimate objects, since they lack a continuous supply of magical energy, these curses have a time limit."
"Only when the Horcrux is actively used will its curse activate—for instance, wearing the Diadem or the Ring, or drinking from the Cup."
"I'm relieved, Albus, that when you found the Resurrection Stone Ring, you didn't put it on your finger. Otherwise, not even I could save someone so intent on courting death."
Snape's understanding of Dumbledore was evident. He knew just how much Dumbledore desired the Resurrection Stone.
"I must admit, the thought did cross my mind," Dumbledore said quietly. "But when the topic of the Deathly Hallows came up, Harry once told me this:
'The Resurrection Stone is the most insidious of the three Hallows. The idea of bringing the dead back to life is nothing more than a delusional fantasy. It blurs the line between reality and illusion, piercing the softest part of your heart with the cruelest sting. Those who become infatuated with it are destined to meet the most tragic end.'
"I don't doubt the truth of those words. But back then, I chose self-deception." Dumbledore smiled bitterly. "After all, I'm just a man over a hundred years old. A muddled mind is to be expected. And when such wisdom is offered, who am I to ignore it?"
"Perhaps Ravenclaw's Diadem really does make one wiser," Dumbledore said, shifting the topic as his gaze fell on Snape.
"Let's hope so."
As Snape carefully uncorked one potion bottle after another, the gem-encrusted Diadem and the Resurrection Stone Ring were placed into the cauldron.
Once the curses on these relics of the Hogwarts founders were lifted, one question remained: could they still hold the treasures their creators might have left behind?
Everyone present was deeply curious.
(End of Chapter)