101

Chapter 101: Pencil Case

Harry felt as though his heart had plunged into a cold lake, draining warmth from his body bit by bit. His stomach churned, a bitter taste lingered in his mouth, and he even felt nauseous.

"So... Quirrell is... actually..."

"Voldemort," Wade corrected. "To be precise, he's possessed by Voldemort."

A gasp echoed in the room, and Michael, pale-faced, cautioned, "Don't say that name again, Wade."

Wade sighed softly. "If everyone's afraid of a name, how did you manage to stand before Professor Quirrell without trembling?"

"That's different," Michael retorted. "Professor Quirrell is cowardly, but that person... that person..."

Michael trembled, his words catching in his throat as if struggling to breathe.

Observing their reactions, Wade noted their apprehension. Even Hermione appeared visibly shaken.

—How intriguing.

Wade thought to himself.

—They face that person bravely, yet they fear even mentioning his name?

Harry, however, harbored no such reservations. He spoke plainly, "So Voldemort planned a comeback, not just by sending two men to steal the Philosopher's Stone... but by coming himself..."

"Yes, disguised as a turban, hiding at the back of Quirrell's head," Wade elaborated. "Wafting garlic fumes all day, enduring pranks from mischievous students—snowballs tossed at the turban. Imagine, they thought they were pranking timid Quirrell, but they were actually aiming at... well... the mysterious man's face..."

Wade chose his words carefully, considering the emotional impact on everyone. His description elicited a mix of fear and dark humor; even Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"But..." Harry hesitated, grappling with his thoughts. "Why didn't Dumbledore let you tell me? I have a right to know the truth, don't I? Voldemort killed my parents!"

"Dumbledore's trying to protect you, Harry," Hermione interjected. "He fears you might... seek revenge against the you know who once you know the truth. It's too risky."

Harry, ever the understanding soul, softened slightly at the mention of Dumbledore's protective motives. Yet, he remained puzzled, "Then why don't we apprehend him now? While he's vulnerable, if we all act together, can't we capture Quirrell and prevent Voldemort from escaping?"

"I suppose—well, it's mere speculation—based on what Dumbledore's mentioned..." Wade explained. "Eleven years ago, that man did perish, but for some reason, he didn't truly die. It's akin to a ghostly state, invulnerable to capture or destruction. Acting rashly might only leave Quirrell vulnerable, while Voldemort slips away—"

"Don't say that name, Wade," Michael whispered.

"...Alright," Wade continued. "The mysterious man retains the ability to return again and again... You never know when he might resurface..."

A shiver passed through someone silently.

"—It's akin to knowing there's a venomous snake in your home, unseen, lurking, ready to strike at any moment... It's almost reassuring to keep that snake right under your nose, isn't it?"

"But... isn't Dumbledore worried that Quirrell might steal the Philosopher's Stone, enabling Voldemort to regain his former power and perhaps even achieve immortality?" Harry pressed.

"—I told you not to say that name," Michael muttered. "Knowing all this, Dumbledore likely laid a trap to protect the Stone, waiting for Quirrell to make his move! Yet, that man's cautious. He's waited, biding his time, without making a move..."

"Perhaps he realized it was a trap?" Ryan suggested. "But the allure of immortality keeps him hovering near the bait, unwilling to abandon the opportunity... Maybe he waits for the perfect moment..."

"What's the perfect moment?" Theo inquired.

"That would be—" Harry's fists clenched. "When Dumbledore's absent from the school! Dumbledore's the only person he fears!"

…

In the days that followed, the young wizards became more vigilant about Dumbledore's whereabouts than ever. Seeing the white-bearded wizard during meals in the Great Hall brought relief for the day; his absence sparked immediate nervousness, and they'd inquire anxiously among the professors.

However, soon their focus shifted to another pressing matter—exams were approaching.

For students, exams were almost as daunting as facing the Dark Lord himself, even for Hermione, who excelled academically.

Exams at Hogwarts generally consisted of two parts: written tests and practical assessments. Written exams were conducted in a large classroom accommodating students from all years, requiring the use of anti-cheating quills. Practical exams varied, each subject's professor setting unique challenges; for instance, Professor McGonagall tasked students with transforming rats into ornate snuffboxes.

For Wade, the exam content proved straightforward, akin to a personal showcase of skills. Judging by the professors' pleased expressions, he anticipated excellent results.

The final exam was in History of Magic. Having already organized his History notes meticulously, Wade seldom devoted time to the subject. He reviewed key points just before the exam and confirmed his accuracy rate exceeded 90%, more than satisfactory.

Today being Thursday, the day Professor Murray taught Alchemy, Wade and fellow students rejoiced at the conclusion of exams. Wade met Michael and made his way, as usual, toward the Astronomy Tower.

Inside, Professor Murray tinkered with a microscope. Spotting Wade's entrance, he exclaimed, "Look at this wonder—Muggles use such machines to observe minuscule structures, including thousands of cells in the human body."

Enthusiastically, he guided Wade through preparing glass slide specimens, adjusting light and focus. Wade refrained from mentioning his prior knowledge, following Professor Murray's lead to observe worm eggs and moth wing slices, then discussing recent alchemical advancements.

"I want you to see this—"

Wade said, retrieving a box from his schoolbag. Nearby, he noticed his enchanted diary emitting a faint warmth. Pausing momentarily, he stowed the diary and placed the blue-gray pencil case-sized box on the table.

Professor Murray's eyes gleamed. "You've achieved success so swiftly?"

"Only preliminary results," Wade replied.

Extending his wand, Wade opened the box to reveal several feather quills and ordinary pens. With a wave, the pencil case expanded, unfolded, and stretched akin to unfolding pages of a book...

Moments later, a wardrobe taller than a single person stood at the room's center.

Wade swung open the wardrobe door and grinned. "Professor, perhaps you'd like to step inside and take a look?"