Chapter 129: Countdown to the Senior Supergroup
The Great Lakes, the Dagger of Slaughter, the darkness in the prophecy, the unknown number of Horcruxes lurking in the shadows—if sighs were taxed, Dumbledore, who had been a strong contender for the title of the wizarding world's richest man at the start of the year, would now be utterly bankrupt.
"For now, let's first see what kind of reaction occurs between Harry and Voldemort," he finally said. "As for how many Horcruxes Voldemort actually created... there might be someone who knows."
Dumbledore suddenly thought of a person, someone who had been quite fond of Tom Riddle during his school days. This person also possessed a high degree of mastery in Potions and the Dark Arts and was a likely candidate for Voldemort to have consulted after learning about Horcruxes.
It seemed a visit to an old colleague was in order. Indulging in a quiet retirement was no good; it was time to unleash the power of the elderly, promote the silver-haired economy, and burn brightly for the sake of the magical world. According to Ryan's way of thinking, it was high time Hogwarts assembled a global senior supergroup. What was that name Ryan had suggested? Hogwarts: Hot-Blooded Old School?
A smile touched the corners of Dumbledore's lips.
"What's that idea?" Gellert knew that little expression on Dumbledore's face all too well. In the valley, all those years ago, Dumbledore would make that exact face whenever they thought of some interesting new plan.
"I'm planning to look up a few more friends," Dumbledore said, not specifying who. Gellert didn't ask further. After all, Dumbledore's friends from that era were not necessarily his own. He felt that old taunts like, "Do you think Dumbledore mourns for you?" were long past their use-by date. They needed a new way of interacting. He was, after all, a loser now. How could he not accept a change in himself?
Of course, whether Mr. Newt Scamander, currently residing in North America, would have a different opinion was another matter entirely.
"Perhaps we can be a bit more radical," Nicolas Flamel said, interrupting their flirting. He took the seal in his hands, observing it closely. Then, he offered a suggestion. "Since it is the same soul, it means they share the same origin. If Harry Potter can, to some extent, control the fragment of Voldemort's soul in his own mind, does that not mean he could then command Voldemort's power?"
"This way, we wouldn't need to rack our brains trying to figure out a spell to shackle Voldemort, nor would we need to invent a control curse that can be cast on a wizard of this level. What do you think?"
What?!
Did Nicolas Flamel hear what he was saying? Have Harry Potter control Voldemort?! Was this six-hundred-year-old gentleman being a bit too radical?
...But it did sound somewhat reasonable.
Is the problem with me? Is my thinking not open enough? Dumbledore was stunned. He began to suspect that perhaps his generation of wizards was simply too far behind the times. Whether it was the living fossil from the depths of history or the student he had taught himself, they were both full of creative spirit. Only his own generation seemed to lack such outrageous imagination.
Gellert was also silent. He had truly never considered such a maneuver. Back when he was young and arrogant, he had sought an Obscurial. At the time, he had stood at the pinnacle of wizarding power at a young age and was truly blinded by pride. If he'd had his current composure and Flamel's kind of wild, out-of-the-box thinking, he would have used a pile of orphans to manipulate that adult Obscurial long ago...
"Won't Harry be..." Flitwick began, hopping onto a table and adopting Quirrell's hesitant way of speaking. He wanted to ask if Harry would even agree to such a thing, and if he did, what effect it would have on him. As the only person in the room who couldn't beat Voldemort, he was deeply unnerved by the thought of Harry confronting that power.
"Boldly hypothesize, carefully verify. Otherwise, magic will forever be confined by the conventions of the past millennia," Ryan said, pushing the door open. "You can wrap up the discussion about Harry for now. He's right behind me; he'll be here in a moment."
"You don't think he should know?"
"There is one indisputable conclusion, Headmaster: Harry is a Gryffindor through and through," Ryan said. "Whether you call it recklessness or courage, it will lead to a certain loss of control. Such a quality might lead to a good result, or it might brew a terrible one. Personally, I feel we should prioritize stability during the initial contact and experiments."
He then turned to Professor Flitwick. "Professor, a lion cub is still a lion. It can never peacefully face the savanna that belongs to it. That inheritance must be accompanied by blood and fire, sword and blade. Only after all hardship and tempering can the young lion wear his crown. There is no lion that hasn't seen blood, and no fine sword that hasn't been forged."
"What's more," Ryan continued, "what Professor Flamel is talking about is a calamity that Harry must face. And right now, with what amounts to half the magical world's power gathered right here, this is the perfect opportunity for Harry to turn that calamity into his own strength. We can't just let that soul fragment sit in his head and do nothing, can we?"
Flitwick was speechless. He often felt out of place with certain "inhuman" individuals because he wasn't ruthless enough. In his view, since Hogwarts now possessed enough magical might to rival half the globe, Harry could afford to receive a gentler, less radical treatment. They could safely remove the soul fragment from his head and let him be an ordinary student.
But as it stood, the vote in the room was 4-to-1 against him. He was in the minority.
He could only express his dissent. "I will be speaking with Severus, Minerva, and Pomona about this. Then, I will not be the only one to object."
That's fine. It'll just be 4-to-4, a tie, the thought flashed through Dumbledore's mind. However, if other staff members find out and join the vote, the numbers will change... Dumbledore decided he needed to recruit a few more members for his senior supergroup to numerically defeat the Hogwarts professor bloc.
As the five of them were talking, Harry entered, panting, carrying a small mountain made of stacked plates of various meats, vegetables, and breads. Harry wasn't very tall to begin with, and hidden behind the mountain of food, all one could see was a pair of legs and the sound of heavy breathing.
The others all looked at Ryan, their eyes seeming to ask, Is this how you care for your junior?
"Don't look at me," Ryan said, holding up his hands and shrugging off the blame. "Harry wanted to test the Strengthening Charm. He asked for it himself."
"I wanted to try... the Levitation Charm and the Strengthening Charm..." Harry said, finding a place to set down the mountain of food.
The rich aroma of roasting meat, enhanced with cumin and rosemary, filled the air. The scent of freshly baked bread, a mix of toasted crust and warm wheat, mingled with the sweetness of cream and sugar, making the very air in the room more pleasant. There were also vegetable dishes—glazed carrots, roasted pineapple, a Caesar salad—that, while not as fragrant, were just as eye-catching.
Combine that with the sight of an eleven-year-old Harry Potter bustling about, serving five impeccably dressed individuals spanning the ages of young, middle-aged, and old, and you had a perfect portrait of aristocratic masters enjoying a family meal while exploiting child labor. It was a scene worthy of the grand prize at the "See You at the Lamppost Photography Awards," only to be angrily disqualified by the judges once they learned the true story.
Just as Harry finished setting everything out, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind, like a demonic whisper boring into his very brain.
"Harry, do you desire power?"
~~~
Get early access to 50+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn