Chapter 75: Wiggenwald

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And Hedwig did request that I keep this a secret from my human partner as well. I assure you that I shall be quite discreet. "

Harry nodded and held out the letter for Fawkes to take. The phoenix grabbed the yellowing letter from Harry's hands and flamed away.

"Wait a second. Did he say, Albus? As in Albus Dumbledore ?" Harry asked, staring at the spot from which the bird had disappeared.

Receiving no reply from his companion, he turned around to face the furious bird who was staring at her shiny sharp claws with a terrifying glint in her eyes.

The only reason that night the entire dorm didn't wake up due to the fierce fighting between the two friends was because of the silencing curtains on the beds.

Heyo. Fixed up and changed a few of the scenes here. Let me know what you thought of the slightly edited up and improved class scenes, or even the fight scenes? I'm loving getting back into writing and I've got so many ideas going forward.

Book-I:Adventures Worth A Night

Chapter 10:

Saturday had been an entirely different day for Harry than for Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

As the young hero had been off slaying a massive legion zombie in an Instant Dungeon dimension, the Headmaster had been running around in his office in a way that strongly resembled a headless chicken.

Why?

Half an hour ago the Headmaster had been notified by the protective wards of the school that a student was in 'mortal danger.' Such a thing was nothing new in the halls of Hogwarts since students that were learning magic tended to be extremely destructive; blowing up cauldrons being one of the most common examples; even if it was rarely mortally dangerous.

However, something that was worsening the situation was the addition of the Philosopher's Stone to the third-floor corridor and the public announcement to forbid students from entering it.

It had the exact opposite effect and had ended in students almost regularly stumbling upon the giant three-headed dog, which meant that the wards hit an alarm almost every single day.

When they did, standard and boring procedure ensued - check the location using portraits, armors and house elves, check if there's a presence of professor nearby, ask the professor to check on the incident and if there are no professors in the immediate vicinity, ask any professor to visit location in a specific time, usually the second after location check was made - there was a reason Hogwarts teachers were permitted limited use of a time turner after all. A misbehaving spell or potion could kill students a bit too fast to react without one.

The end result usually left the students safe, if a bit scolded and damaged, but otherwise alive with the vigilant professors saving the day. The standard and boring procedure was one that never failed.

But Saturday was different.

As he was about to go send off a portrait to notify nearby professors and put on one of his gloomier robes; the blue one that had ballerinas dancing all over around; he suddenly noticed the smell of something burning.

Looking around, he realized what it was with a jolt of panic. He hurriedly walked over to the giant assortment of silver whirring instruments on his desk and picked up the small table-clock that had started emitting sparks.

Its single dial, that had Harry Potter's face on it, was on 'mortal peril' and was trembling, as if mortal peril didn't quite capture the severity of the danger Harry Potter was in.

So he immediately activated another contraption that showed Harry's rough position within the castle. This contraption gave a giant heave and melted, almost as if it couldn't decide whether Harry was inside the castle or not. Albus Dumbledore was panicking now.

There was no reasonable explanation that he could come up with for something like that. He was wary and was genuinely becoming worried. Harry Potter was in an unknown location and in direct danger to his life.

Dumbledore's brain promptly shut down for a second only to reboot in a few seconds and burst up with dozens of locating, messaging and guiding spells. He tried each and every one of them-he even tried to send his phoenix Fawkes to help.

Nothing worked, and for the first time in decades, Dumbledore was not sure what to do. He went for the closest device only to stop, turn and go for a supposedly better solution, only to rethink, stop, make a step, run, stop again and turn… his thought process was much too complex to match a chicken, but his behavior so strongly resembled one that any outsider who saw him would instantly make the comparison.

And then suddenly it stopped.

The clock stopped sparking and moved out of 'mortal peril' to 'flying class' and the melted device somehow completely fixed itself and pointed in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

Thoroughly puzzled, he cast the strongest disillusionment he knew and promptly apparated onto the Quidditch pitch stands, where a young boy had somehow ended up with an out of control broom and was lying still on the ground.

He was about to go down and help, since he knew the boy could be permanently disabled if not treated quickly, when he noticed that Harry Potter of all people was rushing towards the boy.

Dumbledore clearly saw him pull out a potion, the glowing green of which he easily identified as a Wiggenwald healing potion, and tip it into the boy's mouth.

Knowing that the boy would survive and that Harry Potter was safe, he apparated back to his office with questions revolving through his mind.

What was happening? Why did the contraptions go off? Where did Harry get the healing potion?

One thing was clear. Harry was not possessed. Lord Voldemort would have let the Longbottom boy die instantly without a single thought. So was he being paranoid? Was Harry just a boy from violent home conditions? He spent a long time pondering over these questions.

It was midnight when the cry of a phoenix filled the school grounds and distracted him from his ponderings.

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