A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

Rogge did not believe the news brought by Amelia and fell into deep suspicion.

He subconsciously took out the badge of the Jackdaw Magic Society from his pocket and gently touched the jackdaw's feathers with his fingertips.

Society members can use it to communicate with each other, but Neville has withdrawn from the Magic Society. Even if he wanted to do something, it was too late...

Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind like lightning, "Wait a minute, I have a phoenix."

His eyes suddenly lit up and he blurted out: "Mom, Maria and I are going out."

"Now?" Jessica was arranging the tableware and hurriedly reminded: "Don't run too far, you have to catch the train later."

"I got it, Mom~" Rogge responded with a smile and waved to Maria.

Phoenix gently grabbed his shoulders, and in the blink of an eye, a dazzling red fire rose up around him.

It gradually wrapped around Rogge's figure, and the next second, it disappeared without a trace.

Jessica looked at where her son was standing just now and whispered to herself: "With the Phoenix, we don't have to worry about the siege of the Dark Lord and Death Eaters. It would be even more perfect if we could find a magic item to resist the Unforgivable Curse."

At this time, the British magical world was enveloped in an atmosphere of tension and terror.

High in the sky, a large number of Aurors were patrolling back and forth on broomsticks, vigilantly scanning every corner below. On the ground, many wizards wearing pointed hats shuttled through the streets of the city and the fields in the countryside.

Their wands glowed, looking for signs of the Dark Lord and Harry Potter.

Meanwhile, St. Mungo's Hospital for Witchcraft and Wizardry is overcrowded, its corridors crowded with anxiously waiting wizards and witches. The air of the hospital was filled with the smell of potions and the low moans of patients.

In a special care ward on the fifth floor, Dumbledore was being examined and treated by doctors.

He was half leaning on the bed. Although there was a smile on his pale face, there was a hint of exhaustion in his eyes.

"Nico, I'm going to trouble you again this time." He coughed twice and slowly raised his regrown right hand. Hold it tentatively and then slowly release it.

"No, it's nothing." Nicoléme clasped his hands on his chest and walked silently, "I'm very happy to be able to help you in the last moments of my life."

He carefully cleared the table, and then slowly took out a magic item from his pocket.

As a wizard who is over 600 years old, although his mind is still sharp, the bones all over his body are somewhat loose. Therefore, Nicoléme's movements are always slow and slight, but with an indescribable grace.

It was an exquisite gray-silver shelf with a huge crystal ball fixed on it. Inside the sphere, the white light mist rotates slowly. Under the sunlight shining through the window, it looks like a nebula in a distant galaxy, mysterious and beautiful.

Dumbledore adjusted his posture slightly and turned his head to stare at it closely.

Under the focused gazes of the two old wizards, the light mist in the crystal ball began to swirl violently, like a miniature storm.

Gradually, blurred images began to take shape in the sphere, and the prophetic picture slowly appeared in front of them, giving the information that Dumbledore cared about most.

A heart-stopping scene appeared: Harry Potter riding a flying broomstick in the sky. His figure was looming in the clouds. The wind ruffled his black hair, revealing the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

Following closely behind him was Remus Lupin, who was shouting something with anxiety written all over his face.

The scene suddenly changes, as if being pulled by an invisible hand.

Only half of the two-story building appeared in view, and Voldemort's snake-like face looked particularly ferocious. Next to him, stood an expressionless Snape, his black robe shrouding him like night.

The next second, the light and mist changed again, turning into an ancient cemetery. A guardian statue stood quietly, as if staring at them.

Nicolas Flamel asked: "Is this England?" His eyes were still on the crystal ball, waiting for the next picture to appear.

Dumbledore spoke slowly: "Yes, that is Godric's Hollow. The Potter family has lived there for generations."

"The kid riding the broom just now is the Harry that Tom is looking for."

Just when he was about to get up and take a closer look, a new image appeared in the crystal ball.

Longbottom's and Bella's faces alternated, and it was unclear what was going on. A flash of fire flashed, and Rogge and his phoenix stood at the door of the Department of Mysteries.

"That prophecy!" Dumbledore sat upright suddenly, his expression suddenly changed.

He realized Voldemort's purpose and hurriedly told Trelawney's prophecy, "Nico, is there a way to crack the prophecy?"

"Albus, you should know better than me." Nicoléme slowly shook his head and explained softly: "Whether it's England or France, all prophecies that have appeared in the wizarding world will eventually come true in some way."

"We are part of the prophecy, and even our resistance is part of it."

"As an old friend for many years, I have to remind you one thing." Nicoléme stared at him with gray-blue eyes. "Trying to tamper with the prophecy will bring disaster to yourself. There have been too many wizards in history. There was a heavy price to pay for this attempt.”

Albus fell silent upon hearing this. His eyes became deep, thinking about a chess game that was far greater than what was before him.

At this moment, no one can understand the true thoughts of the old wizard. Even his old friend, Nicolas Flamel.

A gentle and complicated smile appeared on Nicoléme's face, which contained the understanding of a close friend for many years and the concern of a mentor.

In his long life, from the Middle Ages to modern times, Nico witnessed the rise and fall of countless extraordinary wizards.

Even by the standards of his "living fossil", Albus Dumbledore is undoubtedly the most outstanding one.

What's even more rare is that this old friend of mine has a good character and abides by the White Wizard's creed. He used his strong spiritual power to overcome the many desires in his heart.

That ancient castle that has stood for thousands of years, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is both an external constraint and an internal practice for Albus.

It limits the natural ambition of strength and purifies the soul that is unwilling to be ordinary.

However, through the content of the prophecy and the flashing images of the crystal ball, Nicolás was keenly aware that Dumbledore had done something.

As an alchemist, he had no knowledge of prophecies. However, his friend Cassandra Trelawney was a true prophet.

Sybill Trelawney, who made the prophecy for Dumbledore, was his great-great-granddaughter.

"Albus, those three children..."

"Only two." Dumbledore sighed softly and rubbed his temples. "Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom were born at the end of July. And Roger Travis, his birthday is June 6th.”

"In fact, before the pen of admission wrote his name, no one in the wizarding world knew that there was a young wizard of the right age in Azkaban."

Nicoléme nodded thoughtfully, "Accidents always happen. Just like magic, there are always things beyond our expectations."

Rogge's name reminded him of a letter he received not long ago.

"So far, there is no danger in the picture predicted by the crystal ball. Therefore, I suggest you stay here to continue treatment and wait for the development of the situation."

"No!" Dumbledore flatly refused, his eyes falling on the broken Elder Wand, "I can't stand idly by. There are fragments of Tom's soul hidden in Harry's scar, and this is what I'm most worried about.

I was afraid that if not guided, Harry might be controlled by Tom and turn into a dark wizard. "

"You're saying that Tom accidentally created a Horcrux on Harry?"

"That's right." Dumbledore nodded helplessly, "This is why Harry can peek into Tom's vision, and why I have been paying close attention to his growth."

"If it weren't for an accident, the prophecy would have ended long ago!"

Nicolas Flamel did not respond immediately, but pondered for a moment, and then slowly spoke: "Albus, if it is true as you said, then the prophecy will no longer be swinging. He kept Harry, and the only answer was Nana. Will Longbottom.”

"No, I won't give up Harry! Never!"

Nicoléme looked at his old friend with understanding and compassion in his eyes.

He sighed softly and said in a soft and slightly reproachful tone: "Albus, you are trying to make up for your mistakes back then, aren't you? But please remember, Harry was not Tom's choice from beginning to end, but Your choice.”

When Dumbledore heard this, his body trembled slightly, as if he had been stabbed in his heart.

"Prophecy does not accept fraud." He continued: "Although I don't completely agree with your approach, I understand your mood. After all, we are wizards, and we can't help but want to challenge fate and prophecy."

"This seems to be our innate trait, just like a moth's attachment to fire." Nicoléme opened the thick magic book and took out a small bottle of emerald-green potion from the pages. "This is The wind of recovery.”

"It can briefly restore you to your prime strength. But remember, its effectiveness is limited."

"Thank you, Nico." Albus hugged his old friend gratefully, and Nico Flamel's bones immediately made a clicking sound, "Sorry, I used too much force."

"It's okay." He then remembered something and reminded: "Garrick has a mysterious wand made of osmanthus wood. I heard from him that it is not weaker than the Elder Wand. You must be more careful, the effect of the Resurgence Wind can only last for 6 Hour."

Albus nodded heavily and prepared to go to Ollivander's Wand Shop in Diagon Alley.

When his figure disappeared, Nicoléme slowly turned around and looked at the crystal ball again.

The light mist flowing inside the ball suddenly changed drastically, as if the wheel of fate was turning ruthlessly. Nico held his breath and stared intently at the image that was about to appear in the ball.

Dumbledore stood high in the sky, his robes rustling in the wind. The scene changed quickly, and a witch with a distorted face shouted and raised something crazily.

Then, the sky was covered with thick dark clouds. Dumbledore's image changed drastically, and he actually looked much older than Nicolas Flamel.

As it continued to show scenes of the future, black cracks exploded on the surface of the sphere, as if it was tightly grasped by a ghost hand from hell.

The entire crystal ball exuded a strange and terrifying aura, which made Nico take a step back.

On the other side, in the Longbottom family's manor, the old lady Augusta was protecting her grandson Neville, fighting and retreating.

The dark creatures are like a raging tide, attacking wave after wave, seemingly endless.

"Grandma, we must go together!" Neville tugged on Mrs. Longbottom's sleeve tightly, with both fear and determination in his voice.

Not far away, Neville's uncle was besieged by several Death Eaters and fell into a dangerous and hard fight.

The old lady's eyes shone with unyielding fighting spirit. She waved her wand like a phantom, casting a series of powerful defense spells against the dark arts with speed and precision.

Brilliant magical rays of light intertwined in the air, forming an impenetrable line of defense, temporarily repelling the furious werewolves, bloodthirsty vampires and other dark creatures.

"Let's go!" Old Mrs. Longbottom's voice was thunderous. "You must leave here immediately and go to Dumbledore. He will give an explanation to the Longbottom family."

Upon hearing this, Neville's eyes instantly filled with tears and his throat was choked with sobs, as if he was about to break down and cry in the next moment.

Seeing her grandson's reaction, the old lady frowned, with a hint of helplessness and reproach in her tone: "How could the Longbottom family have a child who loves to cry like you?"

She raised her old and wrinkled palms and gently stroked her grandson, who was several heads taller than her. She couldn't help but sigh: "That Veela Delvina..."

The manor was in flames and smoke was billowing. Staring at the burning home, the stubborn old lady Longbottom finally gave in: "If you really like that Veela, marry her."

Without waiting for Neville to answer, she suddenly pushed her grandson into the fireplace behind her. In an instant, green flames rose into the sky and enveloped Neville's entire body.

"Grandma! No!"

"Hey, old woman, you've been fooled!" A sharp laugh pierced the air. A witch with a nose stud and a ferocious face walked out of the shadows and said, "What the master wants is not you, but this little fat man."

With a ferocious smile on her lips, she said proudly: "The Floo network of the Ministry of Magic has been messed up. You don't naively think that there are only a few of us here, do you?"

"Don't you wonder where those pure-blood Death Eaters have gone?"

"You... you!" Old Mrs. Longbottom woke up suddenly, her eyes bursting with lightning-like cold light, and the hand holding the wand trembled slightly with anger.

"Neville~ Grandma hurt you..." She growled in pain and gritted her teeth and said, "I will fight with you!"

The witch snorted disdainfully and pointed the wand at her: "Old woman, I want to see what kind of Longbottom family Buck is avoiding."

Although Augusta Longbottom is old, she still wields her wand with vigor and strength. Transfiguration and dark magic defense spells flew out from the tip of the staff. Although each movement was simple, it was calm and skillful.

She knew that this might be the last battle in her life, but she would never let the honor of the Longbottom family be shamed.

Magic spells bloom in the sky like gorgeous fireworks, each one contains amazing power, and the trajectory is even more unpredictable. If it hadn't been for four fighting one, the old lady would have torn the disgusting witch across from her into pieces.

"In the wonderful magical world, why are there weird and unworthy wizards like you?" she shouted sternly.

"Because freedom equals chaos." A deep male voice ignited from the flames.

Rogge jumped out of the space, chanted a spell, and took the lead in killing the dementors.

The majestic silver light swept across half of the field, and the lifelike raven let out a short and powerful call and flew quickly towards the dementors.

As for the wizards of the Longbottom family, in order to win, let's suffer them temporarily.

Anyway, the Longbottom family is famous for being stubborn and warlike, and Neville can only be regarded as the Longbottom who is least like Longbottom.

The legend of the terrifying raven has been circulating among the Dementor tribe for several years. When they saw the patron saint summoned by Rogge, they felt what fear was.

In an instant, these fearsome dark creatures fled in all directions.

"Escape? It's too late!" Rogge waved his wings and gathered the fire of the sky in his hands.

At the same time, Maria swooped down, her sharp claws ripping the tattered cloak of a Dementor.

The raven is not to be outdone. It kills dementors like snow in an oven. It will hurt when it touches it and die when it pecks it.

The Death Eaters on the ground looked at Rogge, who was killing everyone in the sky and entering the super god state. They were at a loss for a moment, and fear filled their hearts like a tide.

At this moment, Old Lady Longbottom's roar echoed across the battlefield: "Kill these bastards!"

This cry seemed to trigger some kind of switch, and the wizards of the Longbottom family were instantly vibrated, bursting out with astonishing fighting power. With fanatical fire burning in their eyes, they charge recklessly at the nearest enemy.

The battle instantly became extremely fierce. Some wizards gave up chanting spells and instead used their wands as daggers to stab their enemies in the heart. Blood splattered and screams came one after another.

Other wizards cast armor spells on themselves and fought vampires with their bare hands, and the sound of punches hitting flesh was endless. Others randomly picked up items around them - vases, chair legs, and even candlesticks, and chased the werewolf around the place, howling.

Rogge turned the last Dementor into ashes and stared dumbfounded at the almost crazy battle scene below.

"Oh no, those who didn't know better thought you were werewolves." He couldn't help but mutter, "No wonder in the original book, Neville slashed around with a sword. It turns out that this is the background of your Longbottom family. ”

"I even doubt whether you have the blood of that barbarian Gryffindor. This fighting style is indeed the same."

"Elegance, stay elegant." He withdrew his patronus and slowly landed in front of the old lady.

Old Mrs. Longbottom wiped the blood-stained wand and burned the vampire corpse at her feet into ashes.

She looked at Rogge, and then looked carefully at the phoenix on his shoulder, "This is not Fox."

"Hey, how did you recognize it?"

"It's simple. If you've seen Albus's birds many times, you'll naturally recognize them."