Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 712 The Principal is a Strange Old Man

Loren sat down at the dormitory table, poured himself a glass of water, and said, "It was because Voldemort learned of the prophecy, believed it, and acted according to Professor Trelawney's prophecy that your fates and souls became entangled."

"..."

Harry sat down beside him, listening intently.

"Prophecy may have contributed to these events to some extent, but that doesn't mean everything is predetermined. This world isn't a story with a pre-written ending."

Loren took a sip of water from his teacup. "Think back on everything you've been through. Try to imagine: if Voldemort hadn't killed your father, would you have developed such a deep-seated hatred? If he hadn't forced your mother, would she have been destroyed by her own Killing Curse and fallen from power?"

"Doesn't this just confirm the prophecy? It shows that the story's ending was already written."

Harry frowned and couldn't help but ask, "Even without the prophecy, these things could still have happened in other ways. At the time, the Death Eaters were hunting down members of the Order of the Phoenix, my mother was a Muggle, and Wormtail had already joined the Death Eaters. All the signs pointed to that ending."

"Have you ever considered that the boy born at the end of July, the family that escaped Voldemort's clutches three times, Voldemort's destined nemesis, savior, prophesied child, was never actually you?" Loren's tone was calm and slow. "Neville's birthday is only one day earlier than yours, and the Longbottoms also escaped his clutches three times."

Harry turned to look at his reliable roommate in front of the mirror, who was calming down the argument.

Loren continued to guide his thoughts, saying softly, "Have you ever considered what would have happened if Voldemort hadn't thought of you after hearing the prophecy, and hadn't attacked the Potters? Would everything have turned out differently? You might have become an average student with average grades and a talent for Quidditch. Your fate might have been influenced by Voldemort, but your soul wouldn't have become entangled with the Dark Lord, just like... Neville is now."

Harry's eyes widened instantly, his mind a complete mess.

Loren held the clear water, finding the taste too bland. He wanted to add some tea leaves or sugar cubes, but he didn't want to brush his teeth again, so he gave up.

A few minutes later, Harry finally came to his senses and asked slowly, "Even if the ending isn't predetermined, I still have to kill Voldemort, and even pay for it... with my life."

The last word was spoken very softly, but Loren still heard it. He vaguely realized why Harry had been so depressed the past few days: "Of course Voldemort should be completely eradicated. Not just you, but the Ministry of Magic, the Order of the Phoenix, and even some Death Eaters. No wizard can tolerate such a cruel and powerful dark wizard. All wizards who want a peaceful life must kill Voldemort. Not because of the prophecy, but because of hatred, because of the yearning for a peaceful life."

"But..." Harry touched the scar on his forehead, and seeing Loren's calm expression, he suddenly realized, "You know this, right? I am also Voldemort's Horcrux, another living Horcrux."

Loren shrugged. "Although I didn't use Legilimency, your eyes and expression have already revealed your thoughts. Forget those tragic tales of heroic adventures, Harry. Think about it carefully. Does Dumbledore seem like the kind of schemer who would sacrifice others to achieve his goals?"

"Um..." Harry thought seriously for a few seconds, then muttered to himself, "I think, sometimes, maybe, perhaps, maybe..."

"I will tell Dumbledore."

Harry immediately shut his mouth, but his expression relaxed, and his mood was no longer so heavy.

He vaguely realized that he had been a bit impulsive last time, running out of the office before the principal had finished speaking.

"But... what about living Horcruxes?"

"Are you referring to your scar, or another real living Horcrux?"

"Yes, both." "I know a little about the scars and the soul fragments, but it's a bit complicated to explain. You can ask Dumbledore yourself when you have time. As for the other living Horcrux, Dumbledore claims he traveled the world to find it after retiring. I don't know what you think, but Hermione and I don't believe it. We suspect he might have set some kind of trap to lure Voldemort into revealing himself."

"Actively expose yourself?" Harry blinked his questioning eyes.

"The other Horcruxes have been destroyed, and Voldemort's soul has been torn to its limit, making it impossible for him to continue making Horcruxes. Given his fear of death and insecurity, he might be anxious, paranoid, and overly tense, which would give him away, such as repeatedly checking whether the Horcruxes are hidden securely enough... or similar behaviors." Loren paused slightly. "Oh, Harry, you're right. That does sound like Dumbledore is a schemer."

"..."

Actually, both of you have the potential to be schemers.

Harry remained silent, a glint of light in his eyes, his emotions a complex mix.

"Heh~"

Loren yawned, drank the water in his glass in one gulp, and walked to the bed in his slippers.

The argument in front of the mirror had subsided, and the two of them took turns looking in the mirror to gather material for their dreams.

When it was Ron's turn to stand in front of the mirror, he squinted at himself for a moment, tilted his head and muttered, "I'm already the captain of the Quidditch team, and there's only one final match left this school year against Ravenclaw. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the Quidditch Trophy is definitely ours."

"What kind of desire is this... Well, as the captain leading the team to victory, I do have a bit of a desire."

"..."

As Simo listened to his mutterings, for some reason, he felt that the Mirror of Erised wasn't so appealing anymore.

Loren lay on the bed, preparing to sleep; Harry sat in a chair, lost in thought; Neville changed into his pajamas and began washing up. No one spoke, and the spacious dormitory gradually quieted down. Seeing that his roommates were all getting ready for bed, Ron and Seamus didn't linger on the mirror. They found some curtains and draped them over the frame, covering the excessively large mirror.

When the candle went out, all five of them were lying in bed in the dormitory, and the night, as blue as a lake, flowed in through the window.

Harry took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. He pressed a dent into the pillow, rested his head on it, closed his eyes, and let his chaotic thoughts churn. Recalling the conversation from earlier that evening, he turned over and hissed twice at his roommate in the next bed.

"Loren, Loren, don't you think you look a bit like Dumbledore?"

"Me? Dumbledore?"

Although the principal is resourceful and powerful, that doesn't stop him from being an eccentric old man.

Remembering the principal's strange behavior and insane ramblings, Loren quickly rolled over, trying to shake the images and sounds out of his head.

Thinking about these things before bed, will I have nightmares tonight?

(End of this chapter)