43

Chapter 43: Dumbledore

Fred approached and rapped on the knocker, and the oak door swung open noiselessly.

Dumbledore's office was an enigmatic sight. The walls were adorned with portraits of former headmasters—some dozed, others observed with keen interest, and a few frames were empty. A long table, adorned with peculiar silverware, emitted occasional puffs of smoke. The Sorting Hat rested on a stand, seemingly asleep and emitting soft snores.

Perched regally on a tall gilded stand near the door stood an exquisitely beautiful bird. Its feathers, though somewhat sparse, glimmered in shades of gold and red, and its intelligent eyes regarded everyone from above.

"Oh my goodness!" Hermione whispered, "It's a phoenix! I read that Professor Dumbledore has a real phoenix—"

Albus Dumbledore sat behind the table, half-moon glasses perched on his aquiline nose, clad in a deep purple robe patterned with fleur-de-lis. He sat in a high-backed chair, his light blue eyes gentle as he gazed at them.

"Welcome, my young friends. I trust my office hasn't bored you?"

"Not at all, Professor! It's quite fascinating here," Fred replied boldly.

Dumbledore chuckled softly, "In your letter, you mentioned something of great importance to discuss with me. Please, proceed."

Eyes darted among them, silently urging. Hermione, who had dared defy the taboo, hesitated at this critical juncture.

Finally, Wade stood and recounted the conversation he had overheard. Others chimed in with their interpretations.

Michael's face paled gradually. He hadn't expected their visit to the Headmaster's office would involve such grave matters. He looked around, feeling like the only one stunned by the revelation.

Dumbledore displayed no surprise after patiently listening. His piercing gaze turned to Wade, questioning, "Are you certain he didn't detect your presence during that conversation?"

"I cast a Disillusionment Charm beforehand. I'm unsure if he noticed any residual magical traces. I concealed myself as soon as Professor Quirrell entered, remaining out of sight from the window's angle."

Wade chose his words carefully, "Before leaving, I ensured absolute silence, refrained from magic, and bore no discernible odors. I waited outside until dawn before returning. I encountered Griffith's portrait and Professor Binns on my way out. In subsequent Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, Professor Quirrell showed no unusual behavior towards me."

Dumbledore nodded slightly, adding, "For now, it seems he remains unaware. However, I must impress upon you all—beginning today, avoid dwelling on this matter and refrain from observing Professor Quirrell. Understood?"

Wade nodded silently.

"Professor!" Ryan burst out, unable to contain himself, "Why not apprehend him before he realizes he's been exposed?"

"It is not yet time, Mr. Carrow," Dumbledore explained patiently. "Since the beginning of the term, I've observed distressing changes in Professor Quirrell. Intelligence I've gathered only confirms my worst suspicions—but it is not yet the moment to confront him. Rest assured, I've tasked a reliable individual to monitor him and ensure student safety."

"Professor... is he truly..." George ventured softly.

"I believe so," Dumbledore confirmed their suspicions. "Voldemort has once again infiltrated our school, in a form beyond our imagination. However, he likely did not anticipate being unmasked by a few of you. He has always held disdain for those he deems lesser—your astuteness has proven exemplary."

"But—didn't everyone say Voldemort was vanquished by Harry Potter as a baby?" Fred interjected.

"He was severely weakened and vanished on the night he attempted Harry's life. But he was not truly gone, of that I've always been certain," Dumbledore stated firmly. "Voldemort now exists in a state so rare, not even the Killing Curse can easily dispatch him."

Fred appeared perplexed, but Dumbledore made no move to elaborate.

"Professor, may we inform Harry of this?" Hermione inquired cautiously.

"I believe not, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied politely but firmly.

"But—"

"Since Voldemort murdered Harry's parents, it would be unwise to reveal that his nemesis is within our midst," Dumbledore reasoned. "Harry might not confront this news with the same composure and reason as you. It poses a significant risk, hence I implore you to keep this secret, especially from Harry. Can you do that?"

They nodded in unison.

"But what about the mysterious man wanting to kill him? Shouldn't Harry be removed from the team for safety?" Fred pondered aloud.

"Wood would protest," George grinned weakly. "He believes Harry's the finest Seeker he's ever seen—his hopes for the championship ride on Harry."

"On that note—" Dumbledore crossed his arms, smiling, "I advise against relinquishing the joy of Quidditch to the darkness. Therefore, Harry needn't leave the team; I'll ensure his safety."

The reassurance from Dumbledore eased the minds of Gryffindors—among the little lions, who could be more dependable than Dumbledore?

With farewells imminent, Ryan hesitated and halted.

"Professor Dumbledore—"

"Yes?"

"One more thing—" Ryan hesitated, struggling to voice his concern.

"Speak freely, Mr. Carrow."

"Professor Quirrell—" Ryan summoned his courage, meeting Dumbledore's gaze. "After the mysterious man is driven away, what becomes of Professor Quirrell? Will... will he be alright?"

"—Or will he be punished?" Ryan added.

Confronted with this query, Dumbledore, usually composed, revealed a flicker of emotion.

He peered into Ryan's eyes, his own glistening faintly.

"I'm afraid not, my child."

Ryan's eyes widened.

"In allowing Voldemort to inhabit him, Quirrell committed unforgivable acts—terrible acts," Dumbledore continued solemnly. "Their association forms a malevolent symbiosis. When Voldemort departs, Quirrell's fate is sealed—he will not survive."

Silence fell among them.

For these eleven-year-old children, witnessing someone they knew inevitably marching towards death—despite his wrongdoing—stirred a pang of sorrow within them.

"My children, your compassion and desire to save him are noble traits," Dumbledore lowered his gaze, kindness tinged with a cold truth, "But Quirrell sold his soul to Voldemort out of greed and ambition—this was his inexorable destiny."

Exiting the Headmaster's office, they were filled with conflicting emotions.

"Dumbledore truly knows everything," Fred remarked, "Did you notice? He wasn't surprised in the least."

"It's hard to fathom," Ryan sighed, "We're only in our first year, yet we're dealing with war, dark mysteries, death... I thought these things were meant to be far from us. And Professor Quirrell—heard he was once a decent man."

They stood in the corridor, snow blanketing the grounds outside, where young wizards frolicked in the courtyard, engaging in snowball fights—among them, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

"Dumbledore's right," Hermione spoke up suddenly.

Wade was puzzled, "About what?"

"Harry shouldn't know the truth," Hermione regarded Harry with a maternal gaze tinged with pity, "The weight of such harsh reality and hatred would overwhelm him."

"—Let's not dwell on this," Wade reminded, "Remember Dumbledore's counsel—to avoid thinking about it and to stay clear of that person."

Hermione nodded silently.

Michael cast a glance at Wade, hesitant to speak. Wade met his gaze, silently urging him on, but Michael shook his head, opting for silence.

Later that evening in the common room, Michael kept his distance from the group, whispering to himself, "I thought you'd resent Dumbledore—he knew everything, yet he allowed students to face danger—you nearly died, Wade."

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