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HRA# Chapter 62: Dumbledore's Bottom Line and the Excited Trio
🕑 Added 2025-03-09 19:38:42 +0000 UTC"So, Quirrell?"
"Oh, Harry." Dumbledore sighed. "At the very least, I can assure you that tonight, when the troll appeared, Professor Quirrell was under my watch the entire time. We cannot execute someone without concrete evidence."
"Is that the line you've drawn for yourself?" Harry countered. "Barring any surprises, Voldemort is possessing Quirrell. Those dark wizards and the troll were let in by him. He’s a professor—he had the opportunity."
"I believe Quirrell is struggling as well, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. "He was once my student. I believe he deserves a chance to be saved."
A heavy silence filled the corridor, broken only by the steady drip of water from the shattered pipes.
"There won’t be a next time, Headmaster Dumbledore." After a long pause, Harry exhaled deeply. "If Voldemort… or Quirrell makes another dangerous move, even if you oppose it, even if it angers you, I will still insist on killing him. At the very least, tonight, I believe I’ve earned the reward you promised."
"Of course, Harry." Dumbledore nodded. "You more than deserve it. You've already taken on more than you should have. I must thank you."
"Perhaps you should thank someone else too." Harry turned to the empty corridor. "Peeves? Are you still there?"
Silence.
"He really seems to be gone." Harry turned back. "But during tonight’s battle, Peeves was a great help. He distracted Voldemort quite well. I can’t disregard his contribution… But since he’s not here now, I—"
"Aha!!" Harry’s words were cut off by a sudden burst of laughter. Peeves’ head popped out from the ceiling, his face full of disbelief. "The little brat is talking about Peeves!"
"Yes, you." Harry nodded at Peeves before turning back to Dumbledore. "I believe anyone who helps protect Hogwarts should be rewarded. Don’t you think so, Headmaster Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore’s expression… for the first time, he seemed a little stumped.
"Peeves… well, Peeves." Dumbledore sighed deeply. "As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I truly appreciate your help… Is there any reward you’d like?"
"Peeves wants to attend the feast!"
As Dumbledore’s expression shifted to one of unsurprised resignation, Peeves did a joyful somersault in midair, shouting excitedly.
"Alright, alright." Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "I will allow you to attend the Christmas feast this year—but you absolutely must not throw rotten food or dead rats in the Great Hall, nor stuff pastries into people's collars, nor overturn tables, nor sweep everything off of them… In short, anything that disrupts the feast is strictly forbidden. Understood?"
"No problem at all!" Peeves agreed with shocking enthusiasm, flipping head over heels toward the ceiling, still hollering, "Peeves gets to go to the feast~~ Baroooooo!!"
Watching Peeves rush off, eager to brag to someone, Harry’s expression turned a little complicated.
He hadn’t known Peeves wasn’t allowed to attend holiday feasts. As for all those extra rules Dumbledore had tacked on… something told him the Headmaster had learned from past experiences.
"Forgive my stinginess, Harry," Dumbledore said with a resigned smile once Peeves was gone. "I must tell you, I have my reasons."
"I think I can guess." Harry suddenly felt a little guilty. "I just hope the students attending this year’s Christmas feast won’t blame me… After all, he did contribute."
Anyone who made a difference deserved recognition. Even warlocks who protected Azeroth were rewarded—what harm was a single poltergeist?
"Now, the final question—what about this mess?" Harry glanced around. "The traces of dark magic, the broken pipes, the shattered walls… Considering Filch’s workload and mood, I had originally hoped to keep the damage to a minimum."
The entire corridor, along with several nearby classrooms, was completely flooded. Fish, water plants, and mud had been washed in by the water, leaving devastation in their wake.
"Voldemort is not an opponent one can handle lightly." Dumbledore chuckled. "If you have no more questions, Harry, you should return to the common room. Your friends have likely been worried sick. Leave this to me."
"Are you sure, Headmaster?" Harry asked.
"Of course." Dumbledore grinned. "Honestly, Harry, this is much easier than stuffing a whole mountain into a trunk."
Harry let out a dry chuckle and chose to pretend he hadn’t heard that, making his way back.
By the time he returned to the Gryffindor common room, there weren’t many people left. Ron and Neville were sitting by the fireplace, and the moment Harry climbed in, they visibly relaxed and rushed to greet him.
"Are you alright, Harry? What about Hermione?"
"She’s fine. She’s spending the night in the hospital wing." Harry smiled. "Don’t worry, she’s not hurt. It’s just a precaution."
"So what happened after?" Ron asked impatiently. "Did you run into the troll in the underground classroom? What about the intruders? We wanted to go help, but Professor McGonagall sent us back."
"You were right to stay put." Harry shook his head. "Voldemort was possessing one of the intruders. Compared to him, the troll was a minor issue."
It was as if they’d been doused with ice water. Ron and Neville stiffened, shuddering violently.
"Vo—Vol—You-Know-Who?!" Ron stammered. "Are you serious?!"
"Of course." Harry confirmed. "Voldemort’s physical body is long gone. He can only survive by attaching his soul fragments to others."
"Oh, Harry, please don’t say that name," Ron shivered, practically pleading.
"What happened to the person he possessed?" Neville asked, curiosity overcoming fear.
"The one I saw tonight died horribly—there wasn’t even a body left, just a puddle of black liquid." Harry looked at his two friends seriously. "I’ll explain more when Hermione is back. But listen—if I ever tell you, in all seriousness, to return to your dorm or follow my instructions, I need you to trust me. No reckless heroics. Promise me?"
Ron and Neville exchanged glances, swallowing hard.
"Alright, Harry."
Night had fallen deep, and they didn’t talk much longer before heading to bed. But for Ron and Neville, sleep did not come easy.
On one hand, they desperately wanted to hear more about what had happened that night. On the other, Voldemort’s lingering presence haunted their thoughts, filling them with fear.
So when Harry emerged from his trunk the next morning after his workout, he found Ron and Neville both sporting heavy dark circles under their eyes.
Then, stepping out of the dormitory, he saw Hermione sitting in the common room, also with dark circles. She had clearly been waiting for them for a long time because the moment she saw Harry, she stood up and rushed over.
Without saying a word, she stood on her toes and threw her arms around him, completely ignoring the stares of other students.
"Thank you again, Harry! You saved my life!" The words had likely been spinning in her head all night. She was so overwhelmed she could barely speak coherently. "Merlin, I can’t imagine how heartbroken my mum and dad would be if something happened to me! I don’t even know what they’d do! Thank you! Thank you so much!"
Hermione’s hug was incredibly tight. She had clearly spent the whole night in fear and anxiety. The moment she was released from the hospital wing, she had waited in the common room for them to wake up.
As Harry gently patted her back to comfort her, he realized she was crying again. Her tears dampened his shirt—
—and the upper-year students had definitely noticed. Some were even whistling.
Leading the charge? None other than Fred and George Weasley.
What happened last night didn’t seem to have spread throughout the castle.
“All right, all right, wipe your tears first. Let’s talk outside.” If they stayed here any longer, more people would come out and see them. Considering how thin-skinned the little girl was, Harry quickly said to Hermione.
The four of them dashed out of the Gryffindor common room amidst a chorus of whistles. Hermione, in particular, bolted ahead of the rest. It wasn’t until that moment that she fully realized what kind of situation they were in—her face flushed red, and she sprinted at the front of the group.
Without stopping along the way, they arrived at a secluded corner by the Black Lake and sat down.
To be honest, Ron and Neville were just as anxious. They had been waiting all night, eager to know exactly what had happened the previous evening.
“Is it just me,” Ron asked, a little confused, “or were there a lot of students staring at you just now, Harry? I mean—sure, they used to do that too, but that was back when school had just started, wasn’t it?”
In the first few days after term began, Harry had been pointed at and watched wherever he went, and it had put him on edge.
“I don’t know. But yeah, people were looking at me… Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I think there’s something you all need to know,” Harry said. Considering the safety of his friends, he didn’t want them to live in ignorance any longer.
“Do you remember the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor that Dumbledore mentioned at the start of term?” Harry got straight to the point. “Quirrell is working for Voldemort. He’s trying to get into that room to steal something. I need you to keep this secret. And from now on, you should avoid Quirrell as much as possible.”
The moment Harry spoke, it was like he had dropped a bomb. The other three were completely stunned.
To be honest, they would rather believe that Snape was Voldemort’s follower than accept that the timid, stammering Professor Quirrell was working for the Dark Lord.
“Then—then shouldn’t we tell Professor Dumbledore right away?” Neville stammered.
“Professor Dumbledore already knows,” Harry explained. “In fact, that room on the fourth floor is a trap set for Quirrell. Dumbledore wants to confirm some things about Voldemort, so he’s letting Quirrell run free in the castle.”
“For Merlin’s sake, Harry, stop saying that name,” Ron shuddered and grumbled. “So last night—the trolls, the intruder—Quirrell let them in?”
Harry nodded.
Unlike Dumbledore, Harry had always believed that children shouldn’t be kept in the dark, especially when it came to danger.
Young children often possessed an unusual mix of curiosity and boldness. That was precisely why they needed to be clearly warned about the severity and risks of certain situations. Just like in Azeroth—even a child of a few years old knew which places were dangerous, what could and couldn’t be done, and how to rein in their curiosity. (And when in doubt, they would just issue a quest for an adventurer to handle it.)
Of course, if someone insisted on seeking death even after being warned about the dangers, then there was nothing to be done.
Harry made sure to explain Quirrell’s danger in full detail, omitting only the part about the Voldemort fragment attached to him. He recounted everything from previous incidents to what had happened last night. He also made Hermione swear to the same promise he had asked of Ron and Neville.
“So… when we arrived at Hogwarts by boat and put on the Sorting Hat, it was actually a magical ritual?” Hermione asked in disbelief. “Magic like that exists?”
“Well, I think it makes sense,” Ron said slowly. “You have to remember, the spells that upper-year students can use are way beyond what we first-years can manage. Remember what Fred and George told us? The year before we started, older students were dueling in the corridors.”
“Yeah. Without protection, who knows what kind of mess might happen?” Neville agreed. “Especially when multiple spells mix together. St. Mungo’s sees a lot of patients like that every year.”
“So, Hermione, you don’t actually need to… uh, thank me so much,” Harry said after some thought. “As long as the effects of the ritual are still in place, you wouldn’t have been fatally injured.”
“But Dumbledore said that the ritual manifests itself even through what seem like coincidences—and you were that coincidence, Harry!” Hermione insisted. “Or rather, the ritual determined that if you hadn’t appeared, I would’ve died! You still saved my life!”
After everything that had happened last night, Hermione seemed to have become an even firmer believer in magic.
“And you can turn into a giant wolf, Harry! Is that Transfiguration?! Like what Professor McGonagall showed us in our first Transfiguration class? Are you an Animagus?!” Hermione’s eyes were practically glowing.
“Oi, mate, you didn’t mention that earlier!” Ron immediately forgot about his worries regarding Quirrell and whipped his head around.
A wolf!
A giant wolf!
Just listen to that—how cool was that?!
When Harry had explained his battle with Voldemort, he had skimmed over most of the details, only saying that he had fought him.
Now, he had no choice but to sit there in mild embarrassment while Hermione excitedly recounted the entire underground corridor battle to Ron and Neville.
To be honest, Harry hadn’t expected his fight with Voldemort to sound so… well, dramatic in Hermione’s retelling.
Yes, dramatic.
It was the kind of excitement that only became clear in hindsight.
The sudden flood from the Black Lake that burst through Hogwarts’ plumbing, the towering water giant, the all-consuming flames, the enormous wolf larger than two full-grown men… It was as if Hermione’s deep curiosity about magic had been perfectly satisfied.
“That wasn’t Animagus magic,” Harry explained to his fascinated friends. “It’s a spell used by shaman. It lets me transform into a ghost wolf. It’s a type of spirit magic, not Transfiguration.”
“That’s seriously cool, mate,” Ron said in awe. “Do you think I could become a shaman? I want to turn into a wolf too—imagine us taking a stroll in the Forbidden Forest together!”
“Well, you’ll have to study hard for that, Ron.” Harry held back a laugh—he knew just how much Ron hated studying.
Sure enough, Ron let out a groan of despair. He truly despised studying.
“And that spell you used to defeat the troll!” Neville mimicked gestures as he spoke, his face filled with longing. “Hermione said you blew apart the bathroom wall—and then there was fire! And lightning!!”
“Yeah!” Ron finally processed what had been said earlier. “Looks like you went easy on the centaur that day—I mean, at least you didn’t blast his head off like you did with the trolls.”
“I had no deep grudge against the centaur,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “We just had a disagreement over Divination, and that led to a minor scuffle. Naturally, the fight wasn’t going to be that serious.”
“To be honest, I’d be happy to teach the centaurs my divination magic,” Harry said sincerely. “That way, they could clearly show people their futures instead of leaving them confused and resentful.”
“That’s probably not gonna happen,” Ron said dryly. “According to Hagrid, centaurs aren’t incapable of explaining their prophecies—they just don’t want to.”
Comments
Cedric Larroumets
Same as chapter 61
