Chapter 135: Hunt?!

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As soon as Voldemort died, his undead body turned into sand, fluttering down around his sword and disappearing before it could reach the ground.

Harry sighed, storing his sword back in Inventory. Things could have gone so much better. His plans could have been fulfilled and then he wouldn't have had to worry about the Voldemorts anymore.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be. His plan was destined to fail due to his lack of magical knowledge. Soul and mind and whatnot, he grumbled.

Still, things could have gone way worse too. And yet, after this confrontation, Harry wasn't scared of Voldemort anymore. Because, now, he had a guess of his enemy's approximate power, which while very high and unworldly was not by any means unbeatable or insurmountable. It was one of the good things that came out of this mess.

Harry could see himself killing his opponents even in a straight fight in the future. And it was all that he needed to overflow with hope and confidence.

Yes, things could have gone bad. Really bad. Like coming face to face with the full might of the Dark Lord. Harry would have had to run away if that had happened. He wasn't ready to engage in a full fledged combat with the godly villain yet.

The day honestly had been a mixed bag, where he gained something, but also missed his chance to neutralise his enemies permanently.

Shaking off his contemplations, he teleported back to Gryffindor house where Iris would be waiting anxiously for him. It was good that this quest did not take more than fifteen minutes, saving her from a torturous await.

The whole event was a bit anticlimactic for him. But he had been over-prepared, so it wasn't that surprising. And he didn't mind it. If all his quests were this easy, he would be happy and relieved.

"Harry!" Iris half-yelled and rammed into him, throwing her arms around his neck.

He smiled softly, hugging her back. "I am fine. I didn't suffer a single scratch. See."

She stepped away and inspected him carefully, relaxing when she verified his claim. "Good."

Before they could continue their conversation, the Gryffindor common room door opened and the old headmaster himself entered inside. He didn't move further and remained at the threshold.

"Harry. Iris. I see you are well, if a bit melancholic." He smiled gently, sitting on the nearest armchair.

The two Potters moved towards him curiously. "Professor Dumbledore? What are you doing here?"

It was Harry who asked.

"I don't think you would believe me if I said I was just strolling aimlessly."

"We won't." Iris mumbled, shooting him an inquisitive look.

"Hmm, well, let's just say I was warned in advance about Voldemort showing up today to hunt you, Harry. Fortunately, I did not feel any outside intrusion through the wards. But just to be on the safer side, I decided to check upon you. Are you good? Did you see or feel anything out of the ordinary today?" Dumbledore asked them kindly.

Harry lied impressively. "We are fine, Professor. And no, we didn't see anything suspicious today."

"Good. I am glad that my informant was wrong. You both have already suffered. I would like to not see you in any more danger." Dumbledore inclined his head gravely before standing up. "It is not an order but a suggestion, you should join your friends at the feast. I think it would be far better than mourning all by yourself."

"It's a tradition, headmaster. We both like to remain together and alone on this day." Iris defended quietly.

Dumbledore offered her a sad smile. "As you wish, child. At least you have each other. It warms my old heart to see siblings getting along so well and not shying from showing each other affection. How I wish it was the case with every family. Ignore this old man's rambling, Goodnight."

They both stared at the retreating figure of Dumbledore until the entrance opened and shut behind him.

"What was that?" asked Iris.

"That was mum blabbering about things to others she shouldn't have. We barely managed to avoid his scrutiny. And we can't risk that now when we are technically serial killers in his view. I am going to have a serious conversation with mum tonight." Harry scowled, preparing to teleport back home right away and ask what the hell she was thinking.

"Not tonight, brother. Our friends will be here soon and it will be suspicious and difficult to explain why you are absent. Go to her tomorrow morning. It will be Sunday anyway, everybody in your dorm will have a lie-in and you will get enough time to question her about this disastrous choice."

"Fine." Harry sighed, plopping down on the red sofa. Iris smiled, sitting beside him and cuddling to his side, relieved that he wasn't hurt in his fight against the Dark Lord. Harry placed his right arm around her shoulder, shifting into a comfortable position.

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Voldemort's eyes snapped open when his mind's connection with the undead body unlinked after the destruction of the vessel. He rubbed the sweat off his forehead and blew out a relieved sigh.

'That was a close call. It was good that I wasn't using my soul for the possession. That boy is powerful and has some sort of control on souls. Too powerful and dangerous for his young age. It's better to steer clear of him for now. And it doesn't look like he will ever side with me. He is an unexpected and unknown enemy.' Voldemort pondered, wiping the trickling blood from his nostrils.

He was going to suffer a killer headache for the next few days. The sudden connection cut off with the undead vessel wasn't good for either his mind or body.

He got up from his throne and decided to see if his wife had forgiven him yet. He walked up to the wall and it slid open to admit him. He entered the well lit room to see his wife lying naked on her back in the canopied bed.

He gulped down the saliva, feeling tight in the breeches, forgetting about his crushing defeat at the hands of a young child.

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