[Chapter Size: 1700 Words.]
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Harry saw a young woman with reddish-brown hair standing in front of him.
She had a pair of beautiful, vaguely familiar green eyes, as though he had seen them in a dream before, and a face that seemed particularly familiar.
Beside her stood a young man with black hair and glasses. Both of them were smiling at him warmly.
An unprecedented warmth surged through Harry's heart, making him feel warm and comfortable from the inside out.
Suddenly, a dazzling green light flashed, and the scene before his eyes, which had made him feel so warm, instantly disappeared.
"Ah!"
Harry suddenly opened his eyes and saw a snow-white wall in front of him. Well, it must have been the ceiling.
This was where Harry had been before, after injuring himself during a Quidditch training session. The Hogwarts Hospital Wing!
"Good afternoon, Harry!" A cheerful voice reached his ears. Harry turned his head and saw Dumbledore, whose hair and beard were entirely white, smiling and greeting him.
"Professor..." Harry was a little confused and couldn't react for a moment. After a while, his memory gradually returned, and he remembered everything that had happened earlier. He unconsciously raised his right hand.
"Huh?"
The right hand, which had been severed at the shoulder, was still there.
In fact, his right shoulder was smooth and white, and his right hand was delicate and soft. In his memory, it was exactly the same as before the injury. And at the site of the trauma in his memory, there wasn't even a trace of a scar.
"Am I dreaming? But why am I not wearing any clothes?"
Harry seemed suspicious.
Harry had heard stories about the relatives of Uncle Vernon's aunt's who fainted because of alcohol and drug use. Some people even feel pain in their rear ends when they stand up. Well, luckily, that wasn't the case for him!
"Well, don't doubt it, Harry. You're not dreaming or hallucinating or anything like that," Dumbledore's tone always seemed so cheerful.
"Your arm is a bit problematic because it was severed by a very powerful magic. Fortunately, it wasn't dark magic. Although it was extremely sharp, it doesn't have negative effects. If it were just a broken limb, it wouldn't be difficult for Pomfrey. In fact, I could even regenerate a new hand for you, but I think you'd prefer the original."
Harry blinked, still a little dazed. But then he suddenly sat up. "Professor, the Philosopher's Stone, the Philosopher's Stone..." He touched his pants pocket and realized he wasn't wearing any pants. Fortunately, he was wearing underwear.
"Quirrell, it's Quirrell..." Harry became frantic again when he realized that the Philosopher's Stone was gone.
"Don't worry, relax, relax, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile. His voice seemed to have a magical power that could calm people's hearts.
No, it wasn't just a feeling. Harry had done some research on soul magic and knew that Dumbledore's voice was indeed magical and was soothing his anxious emotions.
"Hmm? You're unexpectedly sensitive," Dumbledore seemed to notice the change in Harry's expression and smiled even more brightly. He leaned a little closer and whispered:
"Just a little trick, to calm you down and prevent Pomfrey from kicking me out. You know she doesn't allow anyone to shout in the infirmary or make the patients shout."
Harry blinked, and Dumbledore's attitude made him realize that everything was probably fine.
"But, Professor, Quirrell... and Voldemort... I mean, that man." Though Harry's emotions had calmed a bit after being comforted by Dumbledore, he still felt worried and scared when thinking of the previous events.
"Hmm. You're talking about Voldemort? Just say his name. The fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," Dumbledore said easily, not as fearful as the others.
Harry understood this completely. After all, almost everyone said that, even when Voldemort was at his most violent, he was extremely cautious with Dumbledore.
"Professor, what happened, I mean, after I passed out?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore looked at Harry deeply, then smiled and shook his head. "It seems that if I don't talk to you, you probably won't be able to rest well, right?"
Harry nodded repeatedly. If he didn't know, he wouldn't be able to sleep well.
Dumbledore nodded gently. "Well, let's talk about what matters most to you first. The Philosopher's Stone wasn't taken, and you successfully protected it. Well, speaking of which, although I insisted on keeping this matter secret, it was still spread by someone. You see, all of this was sent by your admirers after they found out."
Dumbledore stretched his slender finger and tapped the nightstand beside him.
Harry turned his head and saw that the place was filled with various foods and comfort items. Well, there were still many open chocolate frogs. Harry knew without thinking that it must have been Ron who helped him unpack them.
"So... Professor, did you collect the Philosopher's Stone? Quirrell and... Voldemort and the others..." Wizarding letters are important, but you still have to take a break for now.
"The Professor Quirrell is dead," Dumbledore's tone was calm when he spoke of the death. "As for Voldemort, he couldn't do anything in that state. In fact, if he hadn't run fast enough, the school's magical barrier alone would have been enough to make him uncomfortable. I think he wouldn't have been able to do anything for a long time. As for the Philosopher's Stone..."
At this point, Dumbledore paused for a moment, but then continued: "The Philosopher's Stone was destroyed by me."
Harry was a little surprised to learn that Quirrell was dead, but only a little. After all, in the last moment when he was conscious, he had seen that Quirrell's face was completely rotten.
As for Voldemort, he didn't have many ideas. There was no way he was familiar with it.
Though much of his things seemed to be related to him, when it came to Harry, he really didn't know him.
But the Philosopher's Stone was destroyed?
Harry looked at Dumbledore in surprise. "Destroyed? Professor, then... then Nicolas Flamel..."
"You know more than I thought. You even know Nicolas Flamel!" Dumbledore's tone seemed particularly happy. "Although when I found you in that cave, I knew you must have known a lot, but it seems like you figured it all out, right?"
Harry was speechless and thought to himself: "Professor, how do you fail to distinguish priorities? Is it time for compliments?"
Dumbledore looked at Harry and smiled gently.
Harry didn't feel any sign of Legilimency, but Dumbledore seemed to understand his thoughts clearly. He smiled and said, "I talked to Nico about it. He also agreed with my approach."
Seeing that Harry seemed to want to say something more, Dumbledore continued: "Yes, Nico will die. Although he has prepared a considerable amount of potions in advance, which allows him to handle many things, but yes, he will die."
Harry couldn't avoid a surprised expression.
Though he had expected it, he was still surprised to hear that result from Dumbledore.
Dumbledore smiled. "Death may be terrifying for most people. But it's not necessarily that way for some great sages. For Nico and Perenelle, death may be another great adventure. You know, Harry, the Philosopher's Stone is magical, but with it, wealth and life are at your fingertips. Though these are the most primal desires of humans, when you really have so much, it can be a burden."
"Professor, will Voldemort return?" Harry thought for a moment and asked a question that worried him the most.
"I didn't want to talk to you about this issue so soon." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, thought for a moment, and said: "However, your maturity exceeded my expectations. I think I can tell you a little."
When Harry heard this, he nodded repeatedly.
Although he had always known that Voldemort had a deep connection with him, he was never quite sure what exactly was happening.
Dumbledore shifted to get more comfortable. Then he considered his words and said: "When Voldemort tried to kill you, he encountered a very powerful magic. It was an ancient and powerful protective magic. Voldemort's curse conflicted with this magic and suffered a reaction. He then became what you see now, neither alive nor dead. You asked if he would return, I think yes. But obviously, not now."
"Hum, what protective magic?"
"This is an ancient protective magic called Blood Protection, the oldest form of passive resistance magic," Dumbledore shook his head, and for the first time that day, he stopped smiling. "Ancient and grand magic, a protection obtained by a close relative at the cost of their life and love. This magic binds itself to your skin, blood, and soul. It resists the damage from dark souls. It isolates dark magic souls from spying on you..."
At this point, Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, but then continued: "This is magic that has a stronger effect the more greater the emotion. And your mother's love for you was so greater that Quirrell, who was possessed by Voldemort's soul, was annihilated simply by touching your skin."
"Mother..."
Harry murmured.
Suddenly, he remembered the red-haired woman he had just seen in his dream and the man with glasses beside her.
"Those are my parents?"
"Yes, no wonder that woman seemed so familiar. I discovered she looked a lot like me. Aunt Petunia and Hagrid said that I resembled my mother a lot. Unexpectedly, my mother, of whom I have no memories, left me the most ardent protection."
Harry started to cry without realizing it.
Dumbledore seemed to be captivated by the view outside the window and gazed at it for a long time. Harry also took the opportunity to wipe his tears and asked in a choked voice: "Professor, the Invisibility Cloak..."
"Well, yes, I gave it to you. Originally, it belonged to your father, and I borrowed it to study it." Dumbledore turned and smiled again. "Your father used it frequently back then. But you're better than him. He usually only used it to sneak into the kitchen to eat."
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