HP: The Dropout Who Saved the World

Who knows if Newt Scamander, far away in Britain and sweating with anxiety, sneezed after being cursed repeatedly—

But Jane Yu's ears were already callused from the endless ramblings of this so-called "Anton Vogel."

Though they had known each other for only a week, the tiny house had already witnessed countless world wars.

One wielded wandless magic, the other relied on a wand.

One activated taunt mode, the other unleashed waves of sarcasm.

One threatened with the lives of Nifflers, the other countered with the stench of potions.

If this place were under the jurisdiction of the British Ministry of Magic, the chaos here would have surely earned them all a lifetime membership in Azkaban.

"A crudely made Horcrux—if I hadn't discovered it—"

Grindelwald spun a golden cup in his hand twice before hurling it to the ground with force.

No wonder the potions he drank were becoming increasingly revolting, each brew more nauseating than the last!

"And what's wrong with a Horcrux?" Jane retorted. "Isn't a Horcrux still a cup? And a cup can hold potions!"

She had discovered that this tiny golden cup, which had somehow ended up inside a Niffler's belly and been turned into a Horcrux, possessed a peculiar effect—

It could transform delicious food into something that tasted like it came straight out of a sewer.

For instance, her favorite fizzy drink turned into something that tasted like "red scream."

And the potion she painstakingly brewed with added protein powder for muscle gain—

Had gone from simply unpleasant to something that smelled like a salted fish left out to rot for three days in a stinking ditch.

This had caused "Vogel" to vomit over twenty times in seven days.

"You—you—Accio Niffler—"

Grindelwald, rendered speechless with rage, pointed a trembling finger at her.

That finger, once skeletal and emaciated, had now regained some plumpness, with the wrinkled skin smoothing out slightly.

Having regained some strength, he could now cast spells and even walk around, often making it difficult for Jane to keep him in check.

Just as she thought he was about to threaten her with the life of her Niffler again, "Vogel's" expression suddenly calmed.

The moment he touched the Horcrux and sensed the fractured, torn soul within, he understood her true purpose for coming here.

It wasn't for the Deathly Hallows... but rather... to seek his help.

Yet he found it somewhat laughable.

Were those so-called righteous wizards of the magical world—

Unable to deal with even a fragmented clown of a soul?

And Albus Dumbledore—

Did he lack the courage to face him personally?

Did he have to send a young witch to repeatedly probe him?

Of course, he himself lacked the courage to face Dumbledore.

Everyone must pay for the sins they commit, and this price... would follow him to his grave.

He was merely a disillusioned, dying old man, long devoid of the strength to face such entanglements.

But this Horcrux—perhaps he could deal with it.

Of course, it would be just a casual favor.

"What do you intend to do with this Horcrux?" he asked, his tone seemingly nonchalant as he straightened his expression.

Jane paused for a second to adjust to the sudden change in demeanor before replying:

"Inject it with fake memories crafted using Occlumency—to mess with him a bit?"

She had long planned to give Voldemort a taste of his own medicine.

Although the locket was still with Dumbledore, this golden cup could serve as a substitute.

However, she hadn't expected "Vogel," who had barely stopped for two seconds, to start another round of venomous sarcasm.

"That's it?" he sneered, summoning the golden cup back into his hand with a flick. "Is this what Albus... I mean, your school's teaching standards amount to?"

Perhaps such a scene would have been impressive and charismatic in his younger days, but with his current frail frame, the gesture was somewhat cringeworthy.

Jane took a deep breath, attempting to silence him with a tongue-tying curse, only to have it blocked by an invisible force.

"Can't even cast wandless magic?" Grindelwald, successfully retaliating, raised his head slightly with a hint of pride. "I pity your headmaster—today's young wizards are truly declining in quality—"

Feeling triumphant, he continued to criticize her misuse of magic, his spirits visibly lifted:

"And to think of injecting fake memories into a Horcrux using Occlumency. Don't you know that the fragment of the soul within will enter your body upon contact, potentially linking your thoughts and causing a backlash that could manipulate the caster?"

Hearing this, Jane, who had been about to deliver a karate chop to his neck, paused her physical attack and humbly inquired:

"So, what should I do?"

"Hmph." The grumpy old man let out a cold laugh. "I knew you wanted to learn something from me—"

He struck a pose, as if regaining his youthful confidence, and said:

"You'd better adjust your attitude—bring me that bottle of whatever and that bag of chips—and if I'm in a good mood—"

Before he could finish, the young witch let out a cold laugh—

Then his head tilted, a sharp pain shot through the back of his neck, and his vision went black as he passed out once again!

...

Jane knew it—this old man was up to no good!

Even without a wand, he could block her spells... his mastery of silent, wandless magic was terrifying...

And to know so much about Horcruxes, something few people understood...

Constantly threatening her with the lives of her Nifflers, lording over her while eating her food and using her resources...

He was definitely a dark wizard!

Fuming, Jane decided to confiscate all the Muggle snacks in the house.

She cradled one of her precious Nifflers, scratching its belly, and was rewarded with a pile of pounds and some Austrian schillings.

Successfully purchasing a computer and setting up an internet connection, she let out a satisfied sigh.

Honestly, having lived through the era of smartphones and the information explosion—

Even now, she instinctively wanted to pick up a phone and scroll through short videos.

This made her place hope in the Lemay couple, whose resources she had thoroughly exploited.

She wondered how their research on communication functions was coming along.

Would they soon be able to move on to more advanced projects?

If she gave them a computer, could they create something groundbreaking?

Should she buy them a stack of Muggle technical books?

Teach them everything from hardware development to software programming?

At over six hundred years old, they were in their prime for innovation!

Sitting cross-legged, sipping soda, and munching on chips, Jane happily watched the first season of Friends and bought a stack of game discs.

Though limited by the computer technology of this era, the resolution wasn't great—

But having food, drinks, entertainment, and no homework—living in the moment—this was the life!

What kind of miserable days had she been living these past few years?

She didn't even want to go back to Beauxbatons anymore!

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