New Zealand.

This land was filled with rugged, untouched wilderness.

Vines and branches intertwined above, blocking out the moon. Light occasionally filtered through and gently landed on the clear surface of a still lake.

From time to time, a lone bird streaked across the sky, scattering the wind and pushing away the drifting clouds.

Amid these rarely trodden mountains and greenery, stood a three-story building, resembling a secluded villa.

The New Zealand Ministry of Magic.

After briefing Professor McGonagall about school matters, Dumbledore deliberately left the phoenix at Hogwarts, walked out of the castle, and Apparated here himself.

Different from the British Ministry of Magic, which disguised itself as a phone booth, the New Zealand Ministry was built openly among these uninhabited mountains.

“Albus, I’m so glad to see you.”

Walking out to greet him was the Minister of Magic, a tall, slender middle-aged woman.

She had short golden hair, light flaxen-colored eyes, and wore a fitted white outfit.

Dumbledore, kind as ever, extended his hand and shook hers. “Charlotte, long time no see. Compared to three years ago, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“How could that be? I’ve aged three years!” she laughed freely.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, she led Dumbledore through a busy corridor, back to the Minister’s office, and got straight to the point.

“I’m sorry, Albus. Before the welcome ball takes place, I have some trouble that needs your help with. Let’s get to the truth—you read the letter I sent, didn’t you?”

“Of course.”

Dumbledore nodded, his expression turning serious. “But to judge the situation accurately, I would like to hear the full details directly from you.”

“Naturally.”

Charlotte lifted a teapot, poured a cup of tea for the old headmaster, and after a moment of thought, frowned slightly.

“Well… where should I begin? Everything started with a report from a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, a man named John.”

She pulled out a thick stack of bound parchment, flipped through a few pages, and pointed at the image of a sturdy wizard in his early thirties.

“John is a very capable Muggle-born wizard.”

“About a month ago, his Muggle sister, Catherine, suddenly told him that her son claimed to have seen a creature with the head of a wolf and the body of a man, carrying a spear.

It wandered nearby… and stabbed him through the heart.”

Wolf-headed, human-bodied?

This description instantly reminded Dumbledore of the myths from Egypt. He compared it with various divine images and asked, “Anubis?”

“It should be.”

Charlotte pulled out a piece of paper with a rough sketch on it. “This is the image we drew based on the descriptions. It does look very similar to the Anubis of Egyptian mythology.”

Seeing Dumbledore listening intently, Charlotte continued, “Because John’s nephew had experienced magical outbursts before and is also a wizard.

John thought something might be wrong with his development. So he hurriedly took the boy to the hospital.”

“But the test results showed his nephew was completely normal.”

“At first, John thought the boy was lying.”

“But the day after they returned from the hospital, while the boy was pestering him about the wizarding world, he suddenly asked: Do wizards firmly believe they can create gods?”

“John naturally told him that such an idea was absolute nonsense.”

“But that same night, when John was preparing to sleep at home, he also saw the same wolf-headed, spear-wielding monster his nephew described.

It stabbed his heart… and then performed the weighing of the heart ceremony.”

Charlotte pressed her fingers to her temples, fatigue showing in her voice. “Realizing something was wrong, John reported it layer by layer, until it reached me.”

Dumbledore intertwined his fingers, his expression solemn. “It sounds very much like one of those Egyptian curses.”

“Yes. That was our conclusion as well. And we suspect the trigger of this curse is that single question the boy asked.”

Charlotte took a sip of tea and continued, “So, after John reported it, we asked his nephew where he heard those words.”

“And the boy told us he found it written on a piece of parchment while playing on a Muggle street.”

“But according to him, that parchment disappeared not long after he picked it up—it was probably created using some kind of duplication or twin parchment magic.”

Charlotte paused and gave a bitter smile.

“After about half a month of investigation, we found that quite a number of people in New Zealand have seen similar words.”

“And all of them experienced sudden pain in their chest with no exception.”

Listening to her explanation, Dumbledore’s eyebrows slowly furrowed.

At this point, one thing about the New Zealand incident was clear—

This curse was deliberately spread. It was not an accidental outbreak from a carrier.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, wondering—what was the purpose of spreading this curse? To weaken the International Statute of Secrecy?

His thoughts drifted for a moment, recalling his old friend trapped in Nurmengard, and his Saints.

At that moment, Charlotte’s voice pulled him back.

“Fortunately, this matter hasn’t caused major consequences. Once we suspected that those words were the medium of the curse, we attempted to treat it using the Memory Charm.”

“And the result—”

“After erasing the memory of those words from John and his nephew, they haven’t seen the cursed apparition again in the past half month.”

Dumbledore looked at the capable woman before him with approval.

Though it sounded simple, every step—from discovery, to swift intervention, investigation, and treatment—was done promptly and accurately.

If possible, he truly wished Charlotte were the leader of the British Ministry of Magic.

Compared to Fudge these years—

He sighed inwardly and remained silent. He knew what came next was the real reason she had called him here.

After a short pause, the Minister of Magic finished the tea in her cup, picked up another investigation document, and said:

“Although the curse has been effectively contained, for the safety of the New Zealand wizarding world, we must track down the person who spread it.”

“And coincidentally—”

“When investigating anomalies around the time the parchment appeared, we noticed a plane flying from Egypt to New Zealand.”

Charlotte handed a sheet of paper to Dumbledore.

“Here—this plane sent an emergency report to the New Zealand police shortly after takeoff, claiming they found two human hearts inside the cabin.”

“But after landing, every single person on board—from crew to passengers—changed their testimony and insisted it was a mistake.”

Dumbledore asked, “Memory Charm?”

“Yes. We did detect signs of Memory Charms on every person aboard that plane.”

Charlotte nodded and stated her conclusion: “So, we believe the origin of this strange curse is on that plane.”

Dumbledore looked down at the paper and nodded. “I see. No wonder you asked me to bring the Pensieve.”

“Exactly. To avoid damaging the souls of those Muggles again, we must rely on the Pensieve to retrieve their memories. And among the people I know, you are the only one who possesses one, Albus.”

Charlotte didn’t hide her intentions.

“And besides that, I need your wisdom to help us uncover how exactly this curse is being spread.”

The Minister explained:

“Although we guessed the curse spreads through that question, based on what John saw—”

“But afterward, when we asked his nephew to repeat those words to others, no one else saw Anubis.”

“So even though we know Memory Charms work to suppress it, without knowing the true cause, I cannot rest easy.”

Charlotte spoke out every concern.

Dumbledore thought for a moment, still holding his teacup, then said, “Perhaps the spread of the curse isn’t just about the words. It might also require belief.”

“Belief?” Charlotte was startled.

Dumbledore explained:

“As you said, John’s nephew knows about the wizarding world. When he saw the parchment disappear, he knew it was a magical object. So he must have firmly believed what was written on it.”

“But when he told John, and John denied it, he stopped believing.”

Charlotte thought for a moment, her brows furrowing before relaxing.

“As expected of you, Albus. So only when someone truly believes in that sentence from their heart and then repeats it, the curse spreads. That makes sense!”

She tapped her finger lightly against the desk. “Then, Albus, what do you think of this idea itself: that the unwavering belief of wizards can create gods?”

“…Magic is the power of belief,” Dumbledore murmured after a pause. “But where its limits lie, and whether it can truly create gods—I do not know.”

He shook his head, unwilling to make claims in an unknown field. Yet in that moment, for some reason, he thought of Dawn.

If it were that child answering—

He sighed, suppressing the thoughts rising in his chest, and with a wave of his hand, a grey stone basin covered in runes appeared on the desk.

“I’ve brought the Pensieve, Charlotte. Let’s first find the wizard who spread this curse.”

He stood up. “Are the passengers from the plane still in New Zealand?”

“Of course. And don’t worry, we’ve already taken care of it.”

Charlotte shrugged.

“To make things easier, we brought all of them to the Ministry under the pretense of investigating the earlier false report.”

She pointed to the room across the wall.

“They’re right here. Come with me, Albus.”

___________

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