Chapter 25: Evasion Lets Wickedness Swell
Harry's curses drenched Dumbledore; Ron and Hermione gaped.
No one revered the White Wizard more than McGonagall. "Mr. Potter! Show the Headmaster respect!"
Snape enjoyed the sight. He smirked, "Easy, Minerva. If Potter says so, he must have cause.
"Did the Headmaster hide something again?"
Dumbledore ignored him and looked at Harry. "Why call me faithless?"
"Do you remember our oath!" Harry roared.
McGonagall was bewildered; Dumbledore understood: the Unbreakable Vow they had sworn. He'd vowed to protect Hagrid, Hermione, and Ron. With Hermione nearly killed by a troll, how could Harry not rage?
Dumbledore knew he was in the wrong and his tone softened. "My apologies, Harry. Could we speak in my office? Just us."
"I stand in the open—no skulking like a rat!"
Head aching, Dumbledore sighed.
"Albus," McGonagall asked, "what vow did you make with Harry?"
"Forgive me, Minerva; it's between us. And he's right—I nearly broke it.
"Harry, forgive an old man's lapse."
With that humility and sincerity, the Scarred-Brow's fire ebbed a little.
"If you'll give up your face, I'll trust you once more," he said, and left with the troll head.
"Minerva, deal with these two," Snape said, hauling Quirrell. "He and I have things to discuss."
"Go then, Severus."
When they'd dispersed, McGonagall's eyes went cold on Hermione and Ron. "What tricks were you three playing?"
Two flowers, two tales. In the office, Harry's potion wore off. In a blink he shrank down, bones creaking. The robe fell; portraits turned away—save a few shameless ones who peeped and whistled.
"Not bad, lad—promising!"
"I daresay you'll be popular."
"Excellent wizard—splendid!"
"Heavens—better than my ex—"
Dumbledore, annoyed and worried they'd corrupt the boy, flicked his wand to face them to the wall and cleaned the blood from Harry.
"Robe on, Harry. This isn't a shower."
When he was decent, Dumbledore said, "I want to know something.
"What were you thinking when you killed the troll?"
"Thinking? Bird-all! Only that it died too easily! If not for Big Sis and Brother, I'd have minced it for pies!"
The venom in word and eye made Dumbledore's chest tight with grief.
Voldemort had once studied here, but as a first-year he only did filth in secret—not like this devil who stabbed hearts and chopped heads without blinking. If he fell, another dark lord would rise—one even Voldemort would fear.
"Harry, you're… too impetuous," Dumbledore said, rubbing his brow. "I hope you'll rein yourself in."
"I'm born so—why hide it?"
"Because you are the savior who defeated Voldemort." His warmth dimmed. "Though it was your mother's protection, not your choice…"
"Spare me the worthless noise!" Harry cut in. "Answer me—how did the troll get here?
"I've not heard Hogwarts keeps trolls. Was it the same thief who broke Gringotts?"
"I believe so," Dumbledore said. "From what I've observed, he's likely already inside the school."
Harry tensed. "Is it Quirrell?"
"Oh? I thought you'd suspect Snape."
"That oily fellow wears his grudges on his face—he's no schemer.
"Quirrell moves low, but I crossed him at the Leaky Cauldron. He's an awkward sort.
"Tonight he met the troll first and gave the alarm first—sounds like playacting to muddy the water, then fish in it."
Clear logic made Dumbledore clap softly. "Keenly seen, Harry.
"But please, don't show hostility to Professor Quirrell."
The old man meant more than he said. Harry understood and smiled grimly. "Aye. We'll just tie him up at night, throw some nasty curses, soften him with a few punches—he'll tell us all his romps from birth."
Dumbledore was stunned; the Hat clucked; Fawkes shook his head.
What was this boy?
"Ahem. No, Harry. I meant: do nothing."
"What—let him run wild?"
"Of course not. Just… ah… wait until he shows his tail, yes? We can't wrong a good man."
Before Harry could thrust another sharp question, Dumbledore took out a box. "By the way, I have something of your father's.
"It's time it returned to you."
A Headmaster unmoved atop the tower, letting a devil lurk in school. Harry asks cause and effect; the reply is an heirloom. Words to smooth—evil to grow. He opened the box…
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