Chapter 43: Dumbledore

Fred strode forward and knocked on the brass knocker, and the oak door silently swung open.

Dumbledore's office was a marvelous sight. The walls were lined with portraits of former headmasters, some sleeping, some observing them with interest, and others with nothing but empty frames. 

The long-legged desk was cluttered with strange silver instruments, which spun and puffed out small wisps of smoke. The Sorting Hat rested on a shelf, seemingly asleep, emitting soft snores.

Behind the door, perched on a tall, stood an extremely stunning bird. Its feathers were gold and red, and though slightly sparse, they were still dazzlingly beautiful, and it gazed down at them with sharp, intelligent eyes.

"Oh my God!" Hermione whispered, "It's a phoenix! I read in a book that Professor Dumbledore owns a real phoenix—"

Albus Dumbledore sat behind the desk, wearing half-moon spectacles perched on his hooked nose and dressed in a deep purple robe adorned with fleur-de-lis patterns. He sat in a high-backed chair and his light blue eyes were gazing warmly at the group.

"Welcome, children. I hope my office hasn't bored you."

"Bored? This place is amazing, Professor!" Fred boldly exclaimed.

Dumbledore chuckled softly and said, "In your letter, you mentioned you have something very important to tell me? You may begin."

The group exchanged glances and silently urged one another to speak. Even Hermione hesitated now, as she had also broken the rules and wasn't eager to confess.

In the end, Wade had no choice but to step forward and recount the conversation he had overheard once again. The others chimed in, adding their own thoughts and guesses.

Michael's face gradually turned pale, realizing how serious this conversation in the headmaster's office was. He looked around and felt as though he was the only one who was truly shocked by the situation.

Dumbledore listened patiently and showed no signs of surprise. His eyes, which seemed to see straight into people's souls, turned to Wade, and he asked, "When you overheard this conversation, are you certain you weren't detected?"

"I had used a Fire-Making Spell beforehand, so I'm not sure if he noticed any traces of the spell. But as soon as Professor Quirrell entered the room, I hid. From the window's angle, he wouldn't have been able to see me."

Wade continued carefully:

"Before he left, I made sure I didn't make any noise, didn't use any magic, and had no noticeable scent. I stayed outside the window until dawn before returning, and on my way back, I encountered Griffiths' portrait and Professor Murray. 

During the next Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Quirrell didn't pay any special attention to me, and his attitude didn't seem to change."

Dumbledore nodded slightly and said, "For now, it seems he hasn't noticed. But I want you all to remember something—starting today, try not to dwell on this matter, and avoid making eye contact with Professor Quirrell. Do you understand?"

Wade nodded silently.

"Professor!" Ryan couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you going to catch him? While he still doesn't know he's been exposed!"

"It's not the right time yet, Mr. Carrow," Dumbledore said patiently. "In fact, at the beginning of this term, I noticed some troubling changes in our Professor Quirrell. 

The information you've brought me confirms my worst suspicions—but it's still too soon to confront him. Rest assured, I've asked a very reliable person to keep an eye on him, and I will ensure the safety of the students."

"So, Professor... is it really him?" George asked softly.

"I believe so," Dumbledore confirmed their suspicions. "Voldemort has returned to this school, in a way no one could have imagined. 

But he likely doesn't realize that his clever disguise has been seen through by a group of children—he always tends to underestimate those he believes are weaker than him. Oh, and you've all done exceptionally well."

"But—everyone says that Voldemort was killed by Harry Potter when he was just a baby," Fred said.

"He was indeed gravely injured that night when he tried to kill Harry and disappeared from sight. But he did not truly die. I've always been certain of that," Dumbledore replied. "Voldemort is now in a rare state, one where even the Killing Curse can't easily destroy him."

Fred looked confused, but Dumbledore didn't seem inclined to explain further.

"Professor, can I tell Harry about this?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger," Dumbledore responded politely but firmly.

"But—"

"Given that Voldemort killed Harry's parents, I don't think it would be wise to let him know his enemy is so close," Dumbledore said. "Harry might not be able to handle this as calmly and rationally as you all have. 

It would put him in great danger. So, I need you to keep this secret, especially from Harry—can you do that?"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Fred muttered, "But the Dark Lord still wants to kill him! To keep him safe, should we make Harry leave the Quidditch team?"

"Wood would cry," George forced a smile. "He says Harry is the best Seeker he's ever seen—he's pinned all his hopes of winning the championship on him."

"Oh, about that—"

Dumbledore clasped his hands together and smiled as he said, "I don't think we should give up the joy of Quidditch just because of some prying eyes in the shadows. So, yes, Harry doesn't need to leave the team. I will ensure his safety."

With this assurance, the Gryffindors immediately felt relieved—after all, in the hearts of the young lions, who could be more reliable than Dumbledore?

The group happily prepared to leave, but just before they reached the door, Ryan hesitated and stopped.

"Professor Dumbledore—"

"Yes?"

"There's one more thing—" Ryan stammered.

"Go ahead, Mr. Carrow."

"Professor Quirrell—" Ryan gathered his courage and asked, "What will happen to him after you drive away the Dark Lord?"

"—Will he be alright?" Ryan pressed.

At this question, Dumbledore, who had remained composed throughout, finally showed a change in expression.

He looked deeply into Ryan's eyes with a trace of sadness in his gaze.

"I'm afraid not, my child."

Ryan's eyes widened.

"Voldemort did terrible things to him in order to possess him—horrible things. They formed a wicked symbiotic relationship. When Voldemort leaves, Quirrell will inevitably die."

The group fell silent.

For these eleven-year-old children, watching someone close to them, even if it's a bad person, move toward an irreversible death stirred a sense of sadness in their hearts.

"Children, your compassion and your desire to save him are truly noble traits."

 Dumbledore lowered his eyes and spoke gently but with a cold truth.

"But when Quirrell sold his soul to Voldemort out of greed and ambition, this outcome was already inevitable."

As they left the headmaster's office, everyone felt conflicted.

"Dumbledore really does know everything," Fred said. "Did you see? He wasn't surprised at all."

"It's hard to imagine," Ryan said. "We're only in our first year, and we're already going through this—war, the Dark Lord, death. I thought those things would be far away from us. And Professor Quirrell—sigh, I heard he used to be a good person."

They stood by the corridor, where everything was covered in snow. Some younger students were shouting and playing snowball fights in the courtyard, and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were among them.

"Dumbledore is right," Hermione suddenly said.

Wade looked puzzled. "Huh?"

"We shouldn't tell Harry the truth," Hermione said, her eyes filled with a kind of pity and almost motherly affection as she watched Harry. "Otherwise, the heavy reality and hatred would crush him."

"—Let's not talk about this," Wade reminded them. "Remember what Dumbledore said. We should try not to think about it, and don't make eye contact with him… It's best to stay away."

Hermione nodded silently.

Michael looked at Wade, as if wanting to say something but hesitated. Wade gave him a questioning look, but Michael just shook his head and said nothing.

Later that evening, after returning to the common room, Michael avoided everyone and quietly said, "I thought you might resent Dumbledore—you almost died, Wade. He knew everything and still let the students face danger."

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