Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Harry glared at Dumbledore in seething silence. He didn’t understand why Dumbledore reacted like this? Did this mean that Dumbledore had indeed ordered Snape to find out what Malfoy was doing, in which case he had already heard everything Harry had just told him from Snape? Or was he really worried by what he had heard, but pretending not to be?

“So, sir,” said Harry, in what he hoped was a polite, calm voice, “you definitely still trust — ?”

“Well, Harry, I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already,” said Dumbledore, but he did not sound very tolerant anymore. “My answer has not changed. Now, I think we should return our focus to the matter at hand.”

Harry looked blankly at Dumbledore and then back at Evan, hoping for support.

Dumbledore’s tone made it clear that this topic was closed. He had no interest in discussing Malfoy’s attempts to assassinate him or whether Snape was trustworthy.

Of course he trusted Snape and was well aware of Malfoy’s behavior, there was no doubt about that.

To be honest, Evan wanted to ask Dumbledore what he was going to do.

But in the end, he said nothing. Looking at Dumbledore’s expression, he knew that he would not answer this question, and now was not the time to talk about such things.

For a few minutes after this topic ended, the atmosphere was a little dull.

The surrounding environment discouraged them from speaking too much, as if any sound might disturb the resting souls of the deceased house-elves.

And so they finally stopped in front of a row of shelves filled with the mutilated heads of house-elves.

This was the entrance to the Demon Altar. The skin of the house-elf heads on the shelf was a strange light blue, each missing an organ or bearing some kind of damage, just like Mad-Eye Moody’s face. They stared at Evan and the others with terrifying, bulbous eyes, glaring fiercely.

The heads on the shelves had not only suffered injuries, but their faces also carried an unmistakable, deep-seated hatred.

This kind of expression should not appear on a submissive creature like a house-elf, and now that it appeared, it seemed particularly strange.

No one spoke, and even Harry stopped thinking too much about Dumbledore and Snape and Malfoy.

The tense heartbeat and even breathing were unusually clear in the eerie and quiet atmosphere.

“These house-elves have suffered in their lives!” said Dumbledore softly. “All right, step back, we need to break the magic mechanism left here.”

As he spoke, he took out his wand and tapped a house-elf’s mummified head.

Knock, knock, knock. It was like knocking on a door. The elf’s tightly shut eyes suddenly snapped open…

He looked ferociously at the six people in front of him, opening and closing his mouth as if he were about to devour them alive.

Elaine screamed softly, then quickly covered her mouth and hid behind Hermione.

Because she had been here before, Hermione was mentally prepared, but her stiff body still betrayed her.

Evan was already used to it, but Harry and Ron beside him looked very pale.

The moment the eyes of the house-elf’s mummified head opened, their heartbeats suddenly accelerated, but they could still hold on. However, when the eerie green will-o’-the-wisp appeared in front of them and flew towards them, Ron couldn’t help but scream.

Dumbledore waved his wand vigorously, and all the flames vanished instantly.

“Interesting, interesting,” he said softly, as if he had just discovered something peculiar.

“What’s interesting, sir?” Evan asked.

“Do you recognize this magic? Does it seem familiar to you?” Dumbledore asked back.

“No, sir,” Evan thought carefully before replying. “It just feels weird.”

Yes, it was weird.

The last time he came here, he felt something very strange, whether it was the fluctuations of magic power around him or this magic.

“Of course it feels strange, since this is not magic cast by a wizard,” said Dumbledore.

Not cast by a wizard? What did that mean?

Could it be the magic of house-elves? Or the magic of the demon down there?

After a heart-wrenching sound, the entire shelf slid to the right, revealing the space behind. They walked in one by one, with Dumbledore leading the way. His right hand, covered in eerie runes, gripped his wand tightly and raised it high. The tip of his wand emitted a bright white light, dispelling all the darkness.

Behind him came Harry, Ron, Evan, Hermione and Elaine at the end.

The staircase went all the way down, its steps, railings, and surrounding walls made of large blocks of black rock.

The rocks were dark, cold, and extremely eerie, as if they were blending into one, absorbing all light.

But Dumbledore’s right hand, holding the wand high, was steady, and the light from the end of the wand became stronger and stronger.

Although the darkness was driven away, the temperature around was getting lower and lower, and it was enveloping them unstoppably.

Soon, white mist was coming out of their breath.

This place was close to the center of the Demon Altar, and the ground was covered with a thin layer of ice.

Not just the ground, but everything within sight had a strange light blue sheen.

This was the color of frost. This was a world of ice.

Evan couldn’t help but wonder if this was the source of the chilling air that supplied the food storage room above.

Even though it was already December and their robes were thick, this cold seemed to pierce straight into their souls.

Evan ran his wand over himself, Hermione, Elaine, Harry, and Ron in turn, using magic to keep them warm.

Dumbledore, however, did nothing. He appeared unaffected by the cold as he studied the staircase’s end.

There, everything was shiny, with black rocks covered by thick ice that formed strange shapes.

It was an ice wall, accompanied by strong magical fluctuations, and a blue-green halo flashed from time to time behind the ice wall.

“Be careful!” said Dumbledore, and he went down.

The passage Evan had previously taken had been completely sealed by ice once again, leaving no trace behind.

White mist emerged from the tip of Dumbledore’s wand, and soon, a passage melted through the thick ice wall.

Inside, the Demon Altar glowed blue, appearing as if it were entirely sculpted from frost.

The altar was made up of dozens of huge stones forming a concentric circle shape, creating an imposing and majestic sight.

Each stone block was a towering rectangle, standing upright on the ground at over ten feet in height. The blocks were interconnected at the top by additional slabs of rock, some spanning two blocks, others bridging three or four, forming a complex and enigmatic design.

The stones were not smooth or uniform; irregular grooves of various shapes were carved into their surfaces.

Each groove was inlaid with gems, which were cyan and blue, emitting a faint glow.

Upon closer inspection, intricate pale-blue magic patterns wove between the gemstones, with occasional flickers of light flashing across them.

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