The night wind in the Forbidden Forest carried the scent of blood and char, and moonlight filtered through the leaves onto a desolate clearing.
Dumbledore stood amidst the wreckage, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles gleaming with a complex light.
His silver beard swayed in the night wind, and the expression on his face was a mixture of helplessness and a headache.
Earlier, Charlie had come to his office, saying that Professor Quirrell had attacked them in the Forbidden Forest.
When he arrived at the scene, this was the sight that greeted him.
Dumbledore gently prodded open a corner of the cloth with his wand, took a quick look, and then quickly covered it back up.
Good heavens, only the head was left.
He turned to look at Charlie, about to speak but hesitating.
Originally, his plan was to have Quirrell steal the Philosopher's Stone, and then let Harry choose whether or not to confront Quirrell.
This would both test Harry's courage and allow him to witness Lord Voldemort's threat firsthand.
But Charlie had directly killed Quirrell.
Couldn't this boy just stay quiet for a bit?
Although Lord Voldemort would still eventually come to steal the Philosopher's Stone, without Quirrell, there would be more variables.
Moreover, when Lord Voldemort was on Quirrell, Dumbledore could monitor him at any time; now, he didn't know where Lord Voldemort would go.
"Principal."
Charlie interrupted Dumbledore's thoughts.
"As soon as we arrived in the Forbidden Forest, we saw a man in black attacking a Unicorn," Charlie explained.
"I intervened to stop him, and only then realized it was Professor Quirrell."
He paused, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes.
"Principal, does this count as assaulting a Professor?"
Dumbledore felt a hint of anticipation from this boy.
He shook his head helplessly:
"No, Charlie, you did very well."
A hint of disappointment flashed across Charlie's face.
If this were counted as assaulting a Professor, how many tyrant points would he gain?
"Your Majesty, although Quirrell is a Professor, he has already attacked you, so this is self-defense," the system reminded him opportunely.
Harry and Hermione looked terrified.
That battle just now was indeed thrilling; if Charlie hadn't been so powerful, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
However, it was a pity that during the latter half, a thick fog enveloped the area, so they didn't get to see Charlie's heroic figure, only Quirrell's screams and a few loud bangs.
Dumbledore walked over to the unconscious Unicorn, gently stroking its silver-white mane.
"The Unicorn is still alive, and you are all safe, thanks to you, Charlie."
He turned to look at everyone.
"Let's go back to the Castle first; Hagrid will come to look after it."
The group followed Dumbledore back to the Principal's office.
The fire in the fireplace danced, dispelling the chill of the night.
Dumbledore placed a cup of warm honey tea in front of each of the four.
Sweet and warm, it was best for soothing frightened souls.
But Charlie, who had been jovial just moments ago, now had a serious expression.
"Principal."
"I have a question."
Dumbledore looked up, his blue eyes on Charlie.
"Why is a Hogwarts Professor a Dark Wizard?"
The question was direct, without any embellishment.
The office fell silent instantly, with only the crackling of firewood in the fireplace.
Harry and Hermione were stunned.
They had been so shocked that Quirrell was a Dark Wizard that they hadn't even thought about this deeper question.
Dumbledore was silent for a moment.
"This is my dereliction of duty as Principal."
"I apologize to you all."
Charlie was not moved by the apology and continued to press:
"Principal, if I hadn't been there tonight, or if I couldn't have defeated Quirrell, then innocent students would have died tonight."
His gaze was sharp, looking directly at Dumbledore.
"And the Unicorn."
Hermione involuntarily clenched her fists, still trembling at the thought of the dangerous situation just now.
Ron's face was also pale; if that green light had hit Charlie, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
Harry touched the scar on his forehead; it was still throbbing faintly.
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