Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 708 Developments

Harry stood in front of the monster statue and began guessing the password, starting with hazelnut chocolates.

Harry rattled off the names of more than a dozen candies, and the statue cracked open to reveal the entrance behind it. Harry wasn't sure which command he had gotten right, but he stepped forward and ascended the spiral staircase.

"Knock knock knock—"

"Please come in."

Pushing open the door to the headmaster's office, Dumbledore, dressed in a dressing gown, emerged from the inner room. His disheveled beard was tied back with a cloth bag, and his face was amiable. "It's Harry. What can I do for you so late?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He slowly walked into the room, sat down at the desk, watched the headmaster pour him honey tea, and looked up timidly, saying, "Sir, about what happened that night..."

"you say."

"I……"

Harry paused, looked into those deep, azure eyes, and mustered his courage to whisper, "I want to see my mother again, but... could you lend me the Resurrection Stone?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, I can't agree to that."

Why?

"The Resurrection Stone cannot truly bring the dead back to life. Do you remember the story of Death and the three brothers? The pain of being so close yet unable to reach someone can drive a person mad. You have already experienced that feeling." Dumbledore said softly, sighing as he stared at the steam rising from his teacup, as if he too had experienced that feeling.

"..."

Harry fell silent, the image of the moonlight gathering in his mind flashing before his eyes, and a slight itch appeared between his brows.

He would give anything to truly feel his mother's kiss.

The portraits of the headmasters on the walls were asleep, but if you looked closely, you'd notice that former headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black's eyes were only half-closed, occasionally opening to peek at Harry below. On the shelf, Fawkes was curled up in the Sorting Hat's crook, his bright black eyes blinking.

Dumbledore continued, "Although I have not yet seen that world of the dead, I sometimes wonder, if such a world truly exists, is the Resurrection Stone, while summoning the souls of the dead to comfort the living, also a disturbance to them?"

"..."

Harry lowered his head, holding the steaming tea, speechless.

"but……"

The headmaster's words made his heart leap again, his eyes brightening slightly, like a pitiful young animal. Dumbledore paused for a moment: "I understand how you feel, Harry. Longing is like a hearth fire, and brief reunions are the kindling and wax. You are now on fire."

Harry looked at him expectantly.

"Perhaps I can lend you something else, hoping it will bring you some comfort."

"What?"

"Mirror of Erised." Dumbledore beckoned to the inner room, and a very impressive mirror floated out, almost taller than a person, with a golden frame adorned with ornate carvings, and supported by two claw-shaped feet.

Harry glanced over instinctively, but because he was on the side of the mirror, he could only see a normal reflection of the room. Then he looked at the strange inscriptions engraved on it and subconsciously muttered to himself, "I can make people see their deepest, most urgent, and strongest desires."

Harry looked at the headmaster with a complicated expression: "But..."

"Yes, I have said before that there is no benefit in indulging in illusory dreams." Dumbledore looked at the student in front of him, who had unknowingly grown taller than his shoulders. "But you are no longer the child you were in your first year. I believe you have the ability to distinguish between reality and illusion, and you will no longer miss Quidditch training because of the Magic Mirror."

"..."

Harry felt a little embarrassed and suppressed the urge to stand directly in front of the mirror. He put the Mirror of Erised into his storage scales and calmly picked up his teacup to take a sip.

Dumbledore, noticing his twitching eyebrows, didn't expose him and chuckled softly, "There's still some time before lights out, which is perfect for talking to you about Voldemort and the Horcruxes."

"That snake tree in Iphamoni?"

"Severus has already set off for Massachusetts, but I'm not talking about that tree, but other Horcruxes."

Harry was somewhat puzzled. The information they had just gathered confirmed Professor Slughorn's memory: Voldemort had split his soul into seven pieces, resulting in six Horcruxes excluding the main soul, five of which had already been destroyed.

"What other Horcruxes are there?"

Dumbledore did not answer, but instead explained in detail the principle of Horcruxes: "The key to creating Horcruxes is splitting the soul. This requires the creator to commit murder maliciously without feeling remorse. The evil and cruel act causes the murderer's soul to split, and then a specific ritual is used to separate the soul and seal it into a specific object..."

"Voldemort repeatedly created Horcruxes, like constantly removing beams from a tower of blocks. We all know that everyone's soul is finite, and his actions ravaged it to the point of collapse. Do you know what that means?"

"..." Harry frowned, pondering the headmaster's suggestion.

"This means that his soul is in a very unstable state, which could break the balance at any time. Crossing the boundary between life and death would force his soul to split, and he himself may not even be aware of this."

Harry vaguely realized something, looked up, his face pale: "I...I don't understand what you mean."

"Seventeen years ago, on the night Voldemort attacked your parents, this accident happened."

As the rain pattered against the window, Dumbledore's words shattered his last illusions: "He first murdered your parents without remorse, and then was killed by his own killing curse, which caused his soul to become completely unbalanced and to break off an unexpected piece."

Harry's pupils contracted, revealing a look of horror. He tried to touch the scar on his forehead, but felt as if his arm was filled with lead, and he couldn't lift it no matter what he did.

His lips trembled, and he said in a strained voice, "That fragment has attached itself to my body."

"Harry, listen to me—"

Dumbledore wanted to say something, but Harry interrupted him, lost in his own world and completely oblivious to the sounds outside: "No wonder, no wonder! No wonder we can see each other's memories, no wonder we are connected by soul, no wonder the prophecy said we were destined enemies, no wonder our wands have a strange connection... no wonder Mum said we would meet again."

He spoke to himself in a trembling voice, his voice breaking as he went on to sob. Harry looked up at the old headmaster, tears streaming down his face: "Is this why you went to so much trouble to teach me?"

Dumbledore's expression was complex: "Harry, listen to me—"

"I am also a living Horcrux; to destroy Voldemort, you must kill me!"

Harry cried out in disbelief, unable to accept the truth, and turned to flee the office.

The oak door was shoved open with a loud bang.

Fawkes, nestled in his hat, slowly raised his head and let out a low, questioning groan. The old headmaster Black, in the framed portrait on the wall, opened his eyes and said with schadenfreude, "I don't see any growth in him. He's still so impulsive, so unwilling to listen to advice, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore took a sip of tea, his feelings quite complicated:

"Why can't you just let me finish?"

……

The first day of school after Easter.

Loren got up early and finished washing up in a few minutes. He changed into a brand-new light spring jacket, looking every bit the handsome, model student. It took him a while to admire himself in the mirror, and Neville was already awake when he was about to leave.

Good morning, Loren.

"Good morning, Prefect Longbottom."

"..." Neville said, glancing at the bed next to his as he made the bed. "Do you remember what time Harry came back last night?"

"I went to bed earlier than you."

"I see."

"I'm leaving now, see you later."

"goodbye."

He hurried downstairs, but it was too late; the girl was already waiting on the sofa.

Hermione hadn't even started her morning reading when she saw him and raised an eyebrow in surprise: "You actually got up early today?"

"Let's go have breakfast!"

Loren put his arm around her shoulder and led her out, down the portrait cave, greeting the portraits and ghosts along the way. He was visibly in high spirits. Hermione tilted her head to look at him, somewhat puzzled: "Is there some good news?"

"I'm happy that school has started."

"..."

"I love learning, is that wrong? Just thinking about being able to go back to school makes me genuinely happy."

Do you even believe it yourself?

"Hehe..." Loren walked behind her, placing his hands on the girl's shoulders and shaking her from side to side. "We have Defense Against the Dark Arts class this afternoon. Just imagine, if you use the Elder Wand in front of Professor Bagshot, his expression will be priceless!"

"If you get this excited in class, I don't know how Professor Bashat will react, but you'll likely be put in solitary confinement or forced to copy the textbook."

"hiss……"

Thinking of the thickness of the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, Loren immediately composed himself.

There were only a few students scattered around the long tables in the auditorium. Those who were able to get up early on the first day of school after the holiday were all familiar faces. Even if you couldn't remember their names, you could still recognize their faces.

The only guests of honor were Professors McGonagall and Flitwick; the others were unaware of the situation, but Dumbledore was definitely sleeping in.

Breakfast was as plentiful as ever, with freshly made bacon and eggs, and the bread was piping hot straight from the oven—perfect for its flavor.

Loren was most interested in the fruit, which was arranged on a plate. The fruit was plump and fragrant, and the peel was covered with water droplets left from washing.

He was tired of those orange-flavored apples and strawberry-flavored pears. The familiar taste combined with another familiar flavor always created an inexplicable sense of disorientation. It wasn't that it tasted bad, but it felt very subtle and strange.

After a period of exploration and experimentation, Loren developed another method to optimize the taste and appearance of fruit without changing its essence.

Strawberry-flavored pear is a bit hard to accept, but strawberry that's as big as a pear is a different story. Every bite is the perfect taste of strawberry tips, giving you an unprecedented sense of satisfaction.

"If a strawberry looks like a strawberry and tastes like a strawberry, then it is a strawberry."

"These aren't ordinary strawberries; these are strawberries transformed from the Deathly Hallows..."

"..."

Listening to the muttering incessantly in her ear, Hermione looked helpless and thought he was an idiot.

But strawberries are indeed delicious.

Unlike the merriment here, a different atmosphere permeated the space not far from the long table. Ginny glanced at the dark circles under Harry's eyes, handed him a slice of pie, and said with concern, "Have some, Harry. You all have classes all morning."

"..."

Harry looked at the girl's pretty face, pursed his lips, and shook his head: "Thank you, Ginny, but I really have no appetite."

"What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

Ginny put down the pie and wanted to check his forehead temperature. Her hands were still greasy, and she instinctively pressed her forehead against his, mimicking her mother's movements, unsure if his temperature was high. "Did you catch a cold last night? Shall we go to the infirmary to see Ms. Pomfrey after breakfast?"

Harry felt the girl's forehead was burning hot, and her concerned gaze was so bright that he dared not look directly at her.

How should I tell her that there is nothing wrong with his body, but he won't live much longer, and his death is already destined?

After leaving the principal's office last night, he wandered between the castle floors until the lights were turned off before returning to the common room. He sat alone by the window until dawn, finally giving up the idea of ​​shirking responsibility.

For the peace of the magical world and the stable lives of countless wizards, if all that's required is his life, it's a very worthwhile trade.

Ginny is a very good girl.

He just couldn't be at ease with her. If the ending of their separation was already destined, the more beautiful the present was, the more painful it would be to recall it later.

Harry didn't want Ginny to be upset.

"How are you feeling? Should you ask Professor McGonagall for leave?"

"……No."

"Is it because you haven't finished your homework? Is it for a subject that you urgently need to hand in?"

"……no."

Ginny, after all, had Weasley blood flowing through her veins and was a Gryffindor girl after all. Her gentle inquiries, which went unanswered, grew increasingly irritable. Looking at the dejected man, she suddenly slammed her hand on the table: "Then what's wrong with you? Say something!"

The people near the long table suddenly fell silent, tacitly burying their heads in their food, only glancing over out of the corner of their eyes.

Loren looked thoughtful.

"..."

Harry opened his mouth, but couldn't utter an explanation, nor could he say the words of breaking up.

Ginny was a little angry at his expression and told him to think it over carefully and calm down before talking about it at lunch.

The auditorium skylight opened, letting in the howling wind and rain, followed by the sound of flapping wings—it was the owl postman.

Hermione took the package from the boy and unfolded the slightly damp Daily Prophet. The other students in the Great Hall also saw today's headline and exclaimed in surprise.

"The Ministry of Magic recently confirmed that, with the help of Dumbledore and the mysterious wizard, the Void has been seriously injured and has secretly fled. The Death Eaters have gone into hiding again, and the whereabouts of the related criminals remain unknown. Senior Auror Alastor Moody has appealed for continued vigilance. A warrant has been issued for his arrest, and all inquiries are being solicited..."

"Wiseengamo submitted relevant information to the International Federation of Wizards, issuing a warning to wizarding governments worldwide that the mysterious man and his Death Eater forces may be fleeing to other countries..."

"The Ministry of Magic has reclaimed its headquarters building. Minister Rufus Scrimgeour has announced that the Ministry will reopen immediately and resume its normal operations. Wizards who need to conduct business are requested to make an appointment in advance and arrive on time..."

(End of this chapter)