"Avada Kedavra!"
A sharp, vicious snarl burst from Voldemort's mouth.
For Jon, the final remnants of his consciousness caught only a glimpse of Voldemort's deathly pale face, the terrifying green light flooding his vision, and a faint, desolate blend of crimson and gold.
Then, everything went dark.
All he could feel was—
Pain.
His brain felt as though it were being ripped apart, as if countless ants were gnawing at his skull from the outside. He struggled to regain consciousness, yet had no control over either his mind or his body.
It was as though he were wandering helplessly through an endless wasteland.
...
No one knew how much time passed—
When Jon suddenly heard a familiar voice.
"Seven and two-thirds inches…" the voice said calmly. "Dumbledore, if the Dark Lord's Killing Curse had deviated seven and two-thirds inches to the right, the body in front of us would already be a corpse."
"Oh, Severus…"
Albus Dumbledore seemed to let out a breath of relief.
"May I take that to mean he's still alive?"
"That's right." Severus Snape replied, his tone edged with irritation. "In theory, he should have died a year and three months ago. I even attended his memorial service myself… And yet here he is, very much alive. If those chunks of rubble hadn't smashed into his not-so-bad head, he'd be practically unscathed."
"I would very much like to explain, Severus," Dumbledore said with an awkward chuckle, "but it's a rather long story…"
"I don't need any explanations. This has nothing to do with me," Snape said coldly. "If I'm not mistaken, judging by his condition, he should wake up in three to five minutes."
That was followed by the rapid clatter of boots against the floor… Someone seemed to stride away in long steps.
...
"Oh, Merlin's beard!" Another familiar voice rang out.
Phineas Black's voice came from the other side, seemingly from the direction of the wall. "Dumbledore… If I understood Severus correctly just now, does that mean Jon isn't actually dead?"
"Yes, you understood correctly, Phineas," Albus Dumbledore replied. "Jon is still alive, so you can take the black armband off your arm…"
"Dilys forced me to wear it… Yes, she really forced me," Phineas Black hurriedly explained.
There was a ripping sound, as if a strip of fabric had been torn away.
"Oh, I nearly forgot!"
Phineas Black suddenly exclaimed.
"I need to return to the Headmaster's Office at once… Elizabeth Burke and Eupraxia Mole seem to be preparing a welcome ceremony for a new member among us… Blast it, they've even arranged the portraits for the venue and the banquet…"
"Yes, I'm afraid so…" Dumbledore shook his head. "Elizabeth and Eupraxia will have to wait a while longer before their preparations can be put to use."
"Then I'll take my leave, Dumbledore…" Phineas Black's voice gradually faded into the distance.
"The ward is far too noisy… The patient is extremely weak and needs rest!" A sharp voice rang out from outside the door. It belonged to Hogwarts' school nurse, Madam Pomfrey.
"My apologies, Poppy… That was just a portrait. I promise there won't be any more loud noises," Dumbledore called back.
So…
The lingering fragment of thought in Jon's mind seemed to grasp something—
He wasn't dead?
Struggling… with great effort… he slowly opened his eyes.
"It seems Severus wasn't mistaken after all." Albus Dumbledore turned around and looked at the patient on the bed, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Jon, you're awake?"
...
Jon opened his eyes with great difficulty.
Something golden flickered before him. Summoning all his strength, he blinked slowly… Only then did he realize that the golden object was a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles.
Albus Dumbledore's glasses.
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore bent down and supported his arm.
"No need to exert yourself," he said gently. "You're still very weak… You need rest."
"Yes, Headmaster…" Jon nodded faintly, his face pale with exhaustion. "May I ask… what exactly happened?"
"Well… your earlier suspicions were entirely correct, and the plan you proposed was flawless," Dumbledore explained briefly. "Even in the most worrying scenario you anticipated, you concealed yourself extremely well."
"Then…" Jon asked weakly from the bed, confusion in his voice. "You-Know-Who… back then… why…"
"Tom's curse didn't hit you. It veered off by seven and two-thirds inches," Dumbledore said calmly. "That shouldn't have happened… which means he didn't detect you at the time. You hid yourself very well."
"Then why did he… attack…"
"Perhaps it was instinct," Dumbledore continued. "Some vague intuition told him there might be something hidden among the ruins… so Tom casually released a Killing Curse. For him, that was perfectly ordinary."
"The curse sent rubble flying, and several pieces struck your head. That's likely when Tom noticed you… But I arrived just in time. Fawkes flew to your side at top speed to protect you, and once Tom saw me, he could no longer cast another spell at you."
"Tom chose to retreat immediately… To be honest, I was quite frightened at the time," Dumbledore paused before going on.
"You were unconscious from the blow to your head, and the Reviving Spell had little effect… It looked no different from being struck by dark magic."
"You know, I'm not particularly skilled when it comes to dark magic," Dumbledore said with a smile, blinking lightly. "So my first thought was to return to Hogwarts and find a true expert. Perhaps there might still be a sliver of hope."
"Professor Snape…"
"Yes…"
Dumbledore hadn't finished speaking when he was rudely interrupted.
"That's enough, Headmaster Dumbledore!" Madam Pomfrey marched over like an enraged duck. "The patient needs rest right now. Even you, as Headmaster, are not allowed to disturb him!"
"My apologies, Poppy… I'll leave at once!" Dumbledore nodded to Papoula and then strode out.