All for the Greater Good

A ghostly human face suddenly appeared in the air, swirling as if it was made of white steam. It flew rapidly towards the wall, leaving behind a faint trail.

"Blake!" the face roared, its voice filled with rage and a deep-seated thirst for vengeance.

"Sooner or later, you will die in front of me, I swear!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Blake responded immediately, a flash of green light erupting from his wand and piercing through the ghostly visage.

The human face let out a harrowing, blood-curdling scream as it flickered and faded slightly, the once thick white steam thinning out noticeably. The scream echoed throughout the room, but in the blink of an eye, the face vanished, melting away into the wall, leaving only silence behind.

Dumbledore frowned as the apparition disappeared. He turned his gaze back to Harry, who lay limp in his arms. For a fleeting moment, Dumbledore's heart had seized in terror; he thought Harry had died.

The prophecy had haunted him, the chilling words that said only one would survive: either Voldemort or the Savior. It never explicitly stated that Voldemort had to fall. It could have easily been Harry instead.

A wave of relief washed over him as he realized Harry was merely unconscious, not dead. There were no visible injuries. He clung to the hope that this was a turning point.

'This can only be counted as the first round against Voldemort,' he thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Blake slowly lowered his wand. His experiment had worked. Despite Voldemort's Horcruxes making him functionally immortal, the Killing Curse still harmed Voldemort in his disembodied form.

Just moments earlier, Voldemort had possessed Quirrell, but the magical energy he'd amassed had been drained, leaving him weakened. Voldemort, in a single night, had returned to a fragile, powerless state.

"Well, I guess this doesn't count as a victory yet," Blake muttered, walking over to Quirrell's crumpled body. He nudged the professor's corpse with the tip of his wand.

Dumbledore approached cautiously. "How is he?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"Oh, Harry's a bit worse for wear," Blake joked, trying to lighten the grim mood.

"But he's just a bit crispy around the edges."

As he spoke, Blake knelt down and touched Quirrell's body. To his surprise, with just a light press, a chunk of Quirrell's face flaked off like brittle charcoal.

"Well, that's new," Blake said in disbelief, standing up with a bewildered look. "This is... the protective power of the magic of love?"

He turned to Dumbledore, who was still staring at the place where the ghostly face had disappeared. "Did you see that?" Blake asked, referring to the vaporous figure from before.

Dumbledore's face was clouded with thought. "I seem to be missing something… something very important," he murmured.

Blake shrugged. "So, your plan failed?" he asked, half-joking.

Dumbledore sighed deeply, his usual vigour gone.

"Yes, in a sense. I was too focused on why Voldemort didn't die to begin with when I devised this plan." The disappointment was palpable in his voice.

Blake had risked his life going undercover, and Harry had almost lost his life tonight. Yet Voldemort was still alive. He was wounded but not defeated. The cost had been high, and the results meagre.

Blake glanced at Dumbledore and asked cautiously, "Have you thought about why Voldemort didn't die?"

Dumbledore shook his head, the weariness evident in his posture. "Not yet, but I'll find out. There has to be a reason."

Blake stayed silent for a moment, secretly licking his lips. He already knew the answer—Voldemort had created Horcruxes. But he wasn't sure if Dumbledore had figured that out yet or was hiding it from him.

Suddenly, the large fire door swung open, extinguishing the flickering flames. A group of people entered the room, led by a sullen Snape with his wand drawn.

Behind him came a shocked Professor McGonagall, followed by Madam Pomfrey, who carried a medical kit, and lastly a terrified Ronald Weasley. Blake bet that Ron, in his current state, must have thought his best friend Harry was dead.

Madam Pomfrey was the first to see Quirrell's blackened, grotesque form and let out a small cry of shock. But her instincts as a healer quickly kicked in, and she rushed to check on Harry instead. After a few tense moments, she straightened up and declared,

"Merlin's beard, it's a miracle Harry's fine! Nothing major except for, well, a rather large bruise on his backside."

Blake scratched his nose awkwardly. "Ahem, yeah... that was me." He had kicked Harry in the heat of battle after all.

Truth be told, Blake's contribution to Harry's injuries tonight was far greater than even Voldemort's, both physically and emotionally. Catching Dumbledore's gaze, Blake offered a sheepish smile.

"All for the greater good, right? You know, for the sake of your plan."

Dumbledore's beard twitched slightly at the familiar phrase, but he let out a long sigh.

"Madam Pomfrey, please see to Harry's care. Severus, can you..."

Snape, with a curt nod, turned and left without a word, his dark robes billowing behind him.

"With Severus' potions, the boy will recover just fine," Madam Pomfrey said confidently as she began tending to Harry.

Dumbledore, looking more tired than ever, turned to Blake and said, "You should go to my office and wait for me. You know the password." With that, he picked up Harry's unconscious form and headed towards the school hospital.

By the time Dumbledore returned to his office, it was well past one in the morning. He regretted making Blake wait so long, especially after the fight with Voldemort. Even Dumbledore felt exhausted, so he could only imagine how drained Blake must be. However, upon entering the office, he found Blake wide awake, looking unnervingly alert.

What caught Dumbledore off guard was not just Blake's energy, but the scene unfolding before him. Blake was leaning over Fawkes, the phoenix, holding up a piece of dried fish and saying,

"I'll give you the fish, but what do you say? No, no, you should say 'thank you.' Then I'll say, 'You're welcome.' Come on, let's try again."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, amusement twinkling in his tired eyes. "Blake, Fawkes is a phoenix, not a parrot. You can't teach him to talk."

Blake turned around, smiling mischievously. "I don't know, Professor. The first person to teach a parrot to talk probably heard the same thing."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, sitting down at his desk. "Parrots are birds too, you know. But phoenixes… well, they're something else entirely."

Blake shrugged and handed Dumbledore a glass of pumpkin juice. "Full sugar, chilled. You look like you need it."

Dumbledore accepted the drink gratefully, taking a sip. "Thank you, Blake, for being so thoughtful." He took another long drink before setting the glass down.

"Tonight... I didn't think things through carefully enough. I was so focused on the prophecy, on the integrity of my plan, that I lost sight of what truly mattered."

He paused, his voice growing softer. "When I saw Harry unconscious, and when I watched you duel Voldemort, I was overcome with fear. Before tonight, I convinced myself that sacrifices were necessary for the greater good. But seeing the cost in person... it shook me."

Blake, ever composed, replied evenly, "For this peaceful era, sacrifices have to be made. If not someone else, then me. You don't need to feel guilty, Professor. We all chose this. Harry chose to investigate the Philosopher's Stone, even knowing the risks. If given another chance, he'd make the same choice again because he's a Gryffindor through and through. You didn't force us. You just gave us the opportunity."

Dumbledore tugged at his beard, a tired smile playing on his lips. "I didn't expect to be comforted by you, Blake."

Blake returned the smile, though his tone turned serious. "Enough talk about guilt. Let's focus on what's important. We need to figure out why Voldemort didn't die. Otherwise, no matter how many times we fight him, he'll just keep coming back."

Dumbledore frowned. "I have a theory... but I need more information to confirm it."

Blake's expression darkened. "Actually, I have a theory too."

Intrigued, Dumbledore asked, "Oh? What's your theory?"

"Horcruxes," Blake said simply.

Dumbledore's face betrayed surprise. "You know about Horcruxes?"

"Yes," Blake nodded. "I've read about them."

Dumbledore's thoughts turned to the books that Grindelwald had once given Blake. He silently made a note of Grindelwald's influence before continuing. But he didn't know what Blake was referring to was the book this world originated from.

"Even if the ghost takes a Killing Curse, it will dissipate!" Blake exclaimed.

"Yet Voldemort barely got hurt and managed to escape. It's unreasonable… unless he made a Horcrux."

Dumbledore's frown deepened. "If Voldemort really created a Horcrux, things will be far more difficult. We'd have to find and destroy it, and Horcruxes could be hidden in anything—finding them would be like searching for a needle in a haystack."

Blake continued, "Historical records show that Voldemort's behavior changed drastically over time. Early on, he was calculated and cunning, but later, he grew erratic. This kind of shift doesn't come from just splitting the soul once. I suspect he made more than one Horcrux."

Dumbledore stood abruptly. "You think Voldemort may have created multiple Horcruxes?"

Blake nodded. "Very likely. Voldemort is obsessed with immortality. One Horcrux wouldn't make him feel secure enough."

Dumbledore sank back into his chair, troubled. "We don't even know what his Horcruxes are, let alone how many there are. Destroying them is the only way to truly kill him, and we have no leads."

Blake, knowing more than he let on, offered a clue. "We can still think like Voldemort. He's proud. His Horcrux wouldn't be something ordinary. And he'd hide it in a place protected by powerful magic. We just need to look for clues in his movements and actions."

Dumbledore's eyes lit up. "You're right, Blake. His pride would never allow him to hide a Horcrux in an insignificant place. We can find it by following his trail."

He smiled. "Thank you for reminding me of what I should have realized sooner. Without you, it might have been too late."

[Ding! An emotion of extreme gratitude and joy was detected.]

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for getting a golden treasure chest!].

{AN//:Sorry for the late release. Extra Long Chapter today for you guys}

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