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HRHL# CHAPTER 163
🕑 Added 2025-04-25 18:08:08 +0000 UTCVoldemort, with a wand pointed at him, suddenly felt a bone-chilling cold, as if an icy maggot had burrowed into his very soul, leaving his entire being frozen.
Just as he thought to flee, he heard Harry’s light, almost cheerful voice.
“Now, let’s give you a taste of this—”
If anyone had been present, they would have seen the mass of black mist suddenly swell, expanding to an enormous size.
Then, a flash of purple light streaked through the air, followed by a deafening explosion.
The black mist that was Voldemort was blasted into nothingness in an instant.
“Revelio!”
Harry waved his wand, casting the detection spell to trace Voldemort’s presence, but the spell confirmed what he already suspected: this fragment of Voldemort had dissipated within the Chamber of Secrets.
He was certain Voldemort wouldn’t escape.
That left only one thing—the young, cross-dressing version of Voldemort, he thought.
At that moment, Pansy stirred, slowly coming to.
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice dull and dazed.
“You’re in the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets, Miss Parkinson,” Harry said politely, his demeanor impeccably gentlemanly.
He extended a hand, helping Pansy to her feet.
“If you retained any shred of consciousness just now, you might recall the conversation I had with Voldemort.”
Pansy strained to remember. After a moment, she suddenly leapt to her feet.
She stared at Harry, grappling with the revelation that Voldemort was a half-blood.
“So everything you said was true?” Pansy clutched her face, her voice breaking with disbelief. “Merlin’s beard, I thought—Merlin’s beard…”
“You should focus on the brighter side—like the fact that you’re still alive,” Harry said, giving Pansy a pointed look before continuing. “Now, tell me, why were you here? Was it really just because you fell for Voldemort’s manipulations?”
“I don’t know…” Pansy covered her face, sobbing. “I… ever since I picked up that notebook, I felt… I felt like I couldn’t refuse him, no matter what he asked. Merlin, it was terrifying. I did hate Muggle-borns, but I never wanted to kill that Creevey boy—even if he was annoying.”
“What did you say you hated?” Harry asked, frowning.
“I—” Pansy stammered, timidly glancing up at Harry. “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, I—”
Harry let out a huff.
“Muggle-born students,” Pansy admitted meekly. “But, Mr. Potter, I…”
Harry didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his robes and pulled out a vial of potion.
It was something he’d borrowed from the old professor’s office.
He then produced a glass of pumpkin juice, added three drops of the potion, and handed it to Pansy. “Drink this. It’ll make you feel better—this is pumpkin juice laced with Veritaserum.”
Without hesitation, Pansy took the glass and downed it in one go.
Seeing her swift compliance, Harry gave a slight nod, approving of her actions.
Had she shown even a moment’s reluctance, she would have faced—
“Good. Now we can discuss what happened earlier,” Harry said to Pansy. “As a gentleman, I won’t resort to Legilimens on a lady. After all, I’m not like Merope—Voldemort’s mother, that vile woman. So, you can answer my questions now.”
Under the effects of Veritaserum, Pansy recounted everything without holding back.
She wasn’t lying—she had indeed been under Voldemort’s Imperius Curse.
What surprised Harry was that, even with Veritaserum, Pansy avoided saying “Mudblood.”
That meant she’d passed his test.
“I understand,” Harry said, nodding. “Regarding this incident, I won’t erase your memory—but you’ll still face consequences. Understood?”
“I know, I know,” Pansy nodded repeatedly, tears streaming down her face.
“As for your punishment, I’ll leave that to Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said, waving his wand.
“Professor Dumbledore?” Pansy paused mid-sob. “Wasn’t he sacked by the Board of Governors?”
“That was just a ruse Professor Dumbledore and I set up to lure Voldemort out,” Harry replied, extending his hand. “Take my hand.”
“Oh!” Pansy reached out, grasping Harry’s hand.
With a crack, Harry Apparated them to the school’s main gates.
“Come on, let’s head to the Headmaster’s office,” he said.
Harry and Pansy made their way to the Headmaster’s office, only to find the gargoyle at the entrance refusing to budge.
“Password,” the gargoyle demanded.
Harry said nothing. Black flames erupted from his wand, enveloping the stone beast.
“The password is ‘Pureblood’!” the gargoyle blurted out. “It was set by Acting Headmaster Malfoy!”
Harry smirked, dispelling the Fiendfyre.
The gargoyle stepped aside, allowing Harry and Pansy to pass.
Inside the Headmaster’s office, Lucius was seated at the desk, polishing his snake-headed cane.
When he saw Harry enter, Lucius stood. Upon noticing Pansy, he cleared his throat. “Mr. Potter—what brings you to the Headmaster’s office?”
“Miss Parkinson has been rescued,” Harry said. “Voldemort’s soul fragment has been destroyed. Now, we need to discuss what to do with Miss Parkinson. Where’s Dumbledore?”
“As you said, we play the part to the end,” Lucius said with a smile. “I suspect Dumbledore is waiting somewhere outside, intercepting any of Voldemort’s attempts to flee.”
Lucius wasn’t surprised by the outcome.
In truth, when Draco had written to him, Lucius couldn’t think of any reason to refuse Harry.
Backing Voldemort—a madman, or rather, the soul of a madman—was clearly a death wish. But this Harry wasn’t just the legendary wizard from a century ago; he was also, according to family lore, his great-aunt’s rumored paramour.
Even his great-grandfather, Septimus Malfoy, had held this Harry in high esteem. It could be said that Harry Potter’s rise was inseparable from the Malfoy family’s support.
Lucius didn’t expect Harry to feel “grateful” or obey the Malfoys—after all, he wasn’t Septimus.
But he knew Harry was a man of loyalty. Having received the Malfoys’ help in the past, Harry would surely repay that debt.
The Malfoy family’s future would be secured under Harry’s protection, rather than trembling in Voldemort’s shadow, fearing a stray Avada Kedavra for a misspoken word.
Lucius was crystal clear on that point.
Besides, his great-aunt Cassandra Malfoy was still time-traveling. If she returned to her loyal Malfoy family…
Merlin’s beard, Lucius couldn’t even fathom it. The legendary wizard Harry Potter, a Malfoy son-in-law? The thought…
Lucius felt his pride swelling like a child’s urine-soaked bedsheet, expanding infinitely in a confined space.
“Well, that must have been quite the task for you, former Headmaster,” Harry said, pointedly emphasizing the “former.” “Since everything’s settled, perhaps it’s time to call the Headmaster back.”
Lucius produced an ornate little box from his robes and handed it to Harry. “This is something the goblins at Gringotts asked me to pass on to you. Please take it.”
He swore his deference to Harry had nothing to do with Harry’s power—well, maybe a little, but mostly because Harry was his elder.
A great-uncle was an elder, even if he was only twelve.
Ever since Septimus had told him about Harry and Cassandra’s connection, Lucius had made up his mind—no matter who opposed him, he’d never waver! The Malfoys were staunch Harry-Cassandra supporters!
Sure, the Malfoys were known for playing both sides, but family always came first!
For his great-aunt’s lifelong happiness, they’d be unwavering Harry-Cassandra fans!
Septimus, however, hadn’t mentioned his daughter’s tsundere streak.
It was… hard to bring up.
“I’ll send word to Dumbledore now,” Lucius said, waving at the phoenix perched on its stand.
Fawkes spread its wings and vanished in a burst of flame.
“Harry!”
Phineas’s voice rang out.
“Oh, Phineas,” Harry said, turning to greet him. “Fancy seeing you still in your frame at a time like this.”
“What, did you expect me to step out and take up the Headmaster’s post again?” Phineas snorted. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the rumors you spread around school: ‘If you’re against Headmaster Phineas Black, we’re best mates.’ That’s how you and Sebastian Sallow got so chummy, wasn’t it?”
“Haha,” Harry laughed, unabashed. “If it were up to me, I’d love for you to come out and take on the responsibility of running Hogwarts again. You’re a pain, sure, but honestly, it wasn’t until I faced dark wizards and big battles that I realized how much thought you put into things.”
“Hmph,” Phineas said, grinning smugly. He pointed at Harry, addressing the other portraits. “See that? That’s my student! My student! My favorite, Harry Potter!”
Harry:
If the students from a century ago heard this, he’d be in for it.
His junior by two years, Sirius Black—Phineas’s son—had caught plenty of flak from classmates because of Headmaster Black.
“This whole time’s been stifling,” Phineas said. “Keeping secrets, not telling Dumbledore, holding onto your confidences… It’s exhausting, honestly. When are you going to come clean with your old schoolmate?”
“Soon, I reckon,” Harry thought. When Veratia returns, we’ll head to Nurmengard to settle scores.
And since we’re dealing with Gellert, Gellert’s boyfriend Dumbledore won’t escape either—he’ll get dragged into the mess.
When that time comes, hiding it from Dumbledore will be impossible.
Not that he was deliberately keeping it from Dumbledore. He couldn’t exactly sit down and say, “Oi, old bee, I’m your senior,” could he?
If Dumbledore was in a good mood, he might laugh it off.
But if he wasn’t, Merlin only knew what cutting remarks he’d make.
No one would believe it, least of all a century-old wizard.
“I’ve got a feeling Dumbledore’s on his way back,” Phineas said. “If you’ve got time, swing by 12 Grimmauld Place. It’s the old Black family home—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll drop by,” Harry said, nodding.
No sooner had he spoken than a flash of fire illuminated the office.
Professor Dumbledore appeared, Fawkes perched on his shoulder, having Apparated back.
“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry greeted with a nod.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said, waving back before nodding to Lucius. “Lucius, thank you for your efforts.”
“It’s what a governor does,” Lucius said with a smile. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave—I’ve fulfilled my duties as a governor.”
“Thank you,” Dumbledore said, nodding.
Once Lucius left the office, Dumbledore turned to Harry. “Tell me what happened in the Chamber. I recall asking you to bring the four Heads of House yesterday. Where are they?”
“It all happened so suddenly,” Harry said. “I went in alone and forgot to notify them.”
Dumbledore shook his head. “I hope you won’t be so reckless next time, Harry. I know you’re not like the other young wizards, but don’t underestimate your enemies.”
Harry thought to himself, If I’d brought the professors, I wouldn’t have been able to go all out. Some of my less… savory spells wouldn’t have seen the light of day.
“I’ll be more careful next time, Professor,” Harry said, glancing at the trembling Pansy. “As we suspected, Miss Pansy Parkinson was the one who opened the Chamber and petrified Colin Creevey.”
Dumbledore’s expression grew grave.
“But,” Harry continued, pivoting, “I added a bit of Veritaserum to some pumpkin juice—with Miss Parkinson’s consent—and she told me everything. It’s confirmed: she was under Voldemort’s Imperius Curse, not acting of her own will.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said, his face softening. He turned to Pansy. “Miss Parkinson, would you like some Cockroach Clusters?”
With that, he produced a candy tin from nowhere, twisted it open, and grabbed a handful of still-wriggling cockroaches.
Pansy let out a loud sob. She knew punishment was inevitable, but eating live cockroaches?
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T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
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