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Chapter 164 - Chapter 162

Chapter 162: Dumbledore's Plan

> [Private thoughts recorded in Albus Dumbledore's personal journal]

My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

To most, I am simply Professor Dumbledore. Percival was my father's name, Wulfric and Brian come from older family lines—but the full name is known only to my brother Aberforth and… one other person.

The boy from the prophecy has finally come to Hogwarts. He is kind, pure of heart, and even intelligent. More surprising still—he was sorted into Ravenclaw. That alone suggests something crucial: had the part of Tom Riddle's soul within him been stronger, he might have been drawn to Slytherin. But he wasn't.

Perhaps… perhaps I made the right choice after all.

Before I knew Harry Potter was a Horcrux, I had already decided to place him in the care of Lily's relatives. Only by being nurtured through her sacrificial protection could he grow into the kind of child who might defeat Voldemort. Arabella Figg kept me informed of his life at Privet Drive.

Still, I have often questioned myself. A part of me—the darker, more calculating side—was satisfied to see Harry's suffering. The pressure, the deprivation, the loneliness… all of it could have transformed him into an Obscurial. Yet Lily's magic shielded him from that fate. The magic worked, and instead of destroying him, it refined him.

If I had failed, the world would not have had a savior—it would have had a weapon of destruction.

For a brief moment, when I realized the boy was a Horcrux, I even considered adopting him myself. That thought terrified me. Not out of love—but because of what I might do if the only way to defeat Voldemort required Harry's death.

When I found out the truth, I forced myself to abandon the idea.

Because, if Harry lived with me, could I truly suppress that thought—the idea that I might one day need to kill him?

No, I am no noble man.

I once believed I was above such cruelty, but I am not. That single thought—using Harry as a sacrifice—proved it.

Just as I dared not seize power again after Grindelwald, I dared not raise Harry.

At the time, I still harbored dangerous illusions about the Deathly Hallows. Had I obtained the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Invisibility Cloak—what might I have become?

Even now, I shudder at the arrogance of that version of myself.

Harry is not alone. Two other Peverell descendants also arrived at Hogwarts: Neville Longbottom and Ryan Smith. All three have connections to the prophecy, but only Harry bears Voldemort's mark—the fragment of soul inside him.

If I could remove that mark and let the prophecy be fulfilled by another…

No. No, that is the disgusting part of me again.

Even Dudley Dursley turned out to be a wizard—an ironic twist of fate that fulfilled Petunia's lifelong resentment toward her sister.

But that also led me to discover something far more dangerous.

Someone is manipulating events from behind the scenes. Petunia's family was harmed—perhaps targeted—after I placed Harry with them. There is another dark wizard out there… one who has designs on Harry beyond Voldemort.

I tell myself that my choices were made for "the greater good." But haven't I always used that excuse?

Voldemort—Tom—has returned to the school, using Professor Quirrell as a host. Of course, he still resents me for refusing him the Defense Against the Dark Arts post all those years ago.

Quirrell, poor boy, is terrified. He acts suspiciously in front of me, as if begging me to notice him. But unless he explicitly reveals Voldemort's presence, I can do nothing without endangering his life.

He's had two chances to come to me—after being overwhelmed by the power of Harry's protective magic—but each time, he chose to flee. That is his fatal flaw: desire. Just like Tom.

So I devised a plan.

I requested Nicholas Flamel's permission to use the Philosopher's Stone as bait. Nicholas was ready to part with it, and I needed a way to lure Voldemort out of hiding—to draw him from his shadowy forest in Albania and test a crucial theory.

Does Voldemort know that Harry is his own Horcrux?

This single question determines whether Harry can be saved.

Lucius Malfoy's recent visit confirmed a grim truth: Voldemort no longer cares about his Horcruxes. He has made many. Too many.

I can no longer afford to leave Harry in peace. If he is to survive, I must act.

I am clever—sometimes frighteningly so.

Harry already knows about the Stone. He even guessed its location on the fourth-floor corridor. And now, Quirrell has purchased dragon eggs—a predictable move. Voldemort remembered Hagrid's old fascination. He plans to coax the secret of Fluffy, the three-headed dog, from Rubeus.

And that is perfect.

My goal is to push Quirrell into the Forbidden Forest, where Tom might be tempted to act. In Hogwarts, Voldemort dares not reveal himself—but in the Forest, away from the castle's protections…

However, Quirrell still lingers. I suspect it's because potion ingredients have recently become too cheap. With prices low, he has no need to go to the Forest to restock.

I'll have to intervene.

I'll dock Severus's supply budget temporarily and blame it on suspicious potion quality. I'll alert Minister Fudge and have him investigate price fluctuations. When Quirrell finds himself short on ingredients, he'll be forced into the Forest to gather them.

As for Harry?

I've returned the Invisibility Cloak to him. I want him to get used to wandering at night, preparing him for what lies ahead.

I've also guided him toward the Mirror of Erised—I must understand what he truly desires. Has that changed over time? Is he still pure of heart?

It worked.

Harry returned to the mirror as soon as he got the cloak. He looked into it, saw his family… and my resolve wavered.

Can I still justify pushing him toward danger?

But Hagrid will soon reveal the dragon egg. Harry will get involved—he cannot help himself. When that happens, the plan will continue.

Let him have a little more time with his family.

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Late at night.

Hogwarts.

Sixth floor.

Dumbledore stood silently behind Harry, who was mesmerized by the Mirror of Erised, his hand pressed longingly to the glass.

The boy's green eyes shimmered, his reflection surrounded by parents he had never truly known.

So much love, Dumbledore thought. So much longing.

He closed his eyes.

He hadn't expected Quirrell to go so far.

Not just possession.

He drank the blood of a unicorn.

Now he bore the curse of that unnatural act.

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(End of Chapter)

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