We speak now of Harry, who, after clashing with Voldemort in the forest, had allowed the scoundrel to escape in a cloud of mist.
You must understand, Harry was a man who deeply valued filial piety. To see his family's murderer escape before his very eyes ignited an inextinguishable fire of ignorance in his heart, a fire the wind could not blow out, nor water quench.
Even the heavens were uncooperative. A dark wind suddenly swept the land, and black clouds pressed down. A "kacha" of thunder cracked overhead, and pearl-sized raindrops began to smash down.
Harry ignored the rain. He grabbed two bottles of whiskey from Hagrid's hut and drank as he walked, heading straight for the Headmaster's office.
As the verse says:
A black-robed villain hides in the school,
Dumbledore said not to worry.
But seeing his parents' killer tonight,
He brings his saber in the rain to question the Headmaster.
He had walked less than half a mile, and the strong liquor was finished. The alcohol took effect. Though he was soaked to the skin by the downpour, he felt his skin burning. Coupled with the evil fire raging in his heart, his organs felt as if they were boiling, and smoke seemed to billow from his seven orifices.
Harry tore off his robes, tied the sleeves around his waist, and stormed, bare-armed, into the castle.
Behold: Head heavy, feet light; eyes red, face flushed. Leaning forward, then back; staggering east, then west. He stumbled into the school like a crane in the wind; he swayed toward the office like a snake emerging from water. He pointed his wand at the sky, cursing Voldemort; he pointed his saber at the ground, vowing to take his head. A disheveled, drunken wizard; a scar-faced lad bent on murder.
It was past three in the morning. Even the patroller, Filch, was cuddled in bed with his cat. Only the sleepless stone statues were left to listen to the rain and watch the night.
The two gargoyles in front of the Headmaster's office suddenly heard a clanging sound. They looked and saw the drenched Harry approaching, saber in hand.
The two statues looked at each other, shocked. Why is a little wizard out after curfew? And... does he look drunk?
As Harry approached, the left gargoyle said, "Little wizard, you have violated two school rules: curfew and drinking. I must report this to Professor Dumbledore."
The right one chimed in, "Please stand here and do not move. You don't want to lose more points, do you?"
Harry was already very drunk. Hearing them mention Dumbledore, he snapped his eyes open and roared, "That damned scoundrel! What kind of professor is he! You two, go fetch that old fellow for me!"
These two gargoyles had guarded the office for over a hundred years. Any wizard who came without the password was, without exception, polite and respectful, asking them to pass on a message.
Now, to be yelled at by this yellow-mouthed child—it was intolerable.
"Hey! Show some respect, little wizard! My age is probably greater than your entire family's combined!"
These words struck Harry's raw nerve, like a spark landing in a powder keg. He roared, "You two avian curs dare to provoke me? You want a taste of my saber!"
He drew his blade and hacked at them, slicing off the corner of one of the stone pedestals.
The two gargoyles, terrified, ran straight into the office, shouting, "Professor Dumbledore! There's a little monk outside with a scarred head and green eyes!"
In moments, Dumbledore, wearing a star-covered dressing gown, came out.
"Harry, it is currently one-thirty in the morning." Dumbledore saw Harry's drunken state and felt a headache coming on. "And you really should be in your bed in the common room."
Harry sneered. "If I didn't prowl by night, how would I know that the thief stealing the Philosopher's Stone is Voldemort!"
Dumbledore remained impassive. "Why would you think that?"
Seeing him deny it, Harry grew even angrier. "Hmph! This one saw it clearly in the Forest! That scoundrel was drinking unicorn blood. Who else could it be but that half-dead, thieving beast!"
"And furthermore, that green-light curse he used on me was exactly the same as the green light from my dream!"
Dumbledore's expression changed. "Please come in, Harry. It seems we need to talk again."
Harry had much to say and, for once, did not argue, following him inside.
Once seated, Dumbledore cast a drying charm on Harry and said seriously, "Harry, I need you to describe, in detail, the spell that flashed with green light—"
"If you want to ask me questions, you must answer mine first!"
It's happening again.
This was the third time.
Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling his chronic headaches returning. "Harry, I am not intentionally hiding things from you. It is just that your temperament is too rash. Knowing too much, too soon, would be of no benefit to you."
Harry just sneered. "If you knew the scoundrel in the school was Voldemort, why didn't you round up those embarrassing people for interrogation?"
"Oh, Harry, I thought we had discussed this. Until Professor Quirrell actually shows his fox's tail, we cannot wrongly accuse a good wizard."
Harry roared, "So you'll just let a thousand students be placed on the chopping block like meat, while Voldemort plays the butcher!"
"I heard the world calls you the 'White Wizard,' the great hero who defeated Grindelwald and Voldemort. But you're just a life-wasting scoundrel!"
"You, who knows small courtesies but not great righteousness, who obsesses over petty rules but lacks great virtue—you filthy bastard! You are worthy of making an oath with me? You are worthy of being the head of this school?"
Harry's vicious tirade was like a steel knife scraping bone, like strong liquor poured on a wound. Accompanied by the roaring thunder outside, even the portraits of the previous headmasters wished they could find a crack to hide in on Dumbledore's behalf.
But while the portraits were ashamed for him, Dumbledore's expression remained unchanged. There was even a hint of amusement in his eyes.
He teased, "Our little savior seems to doubt my ability to protect this school."
Dumbledore took his wand, pushed open the window, and recited an incantation. A beam of light shot into the sky, striking the black, oppressive clouds.
In an instant, the vast expanse of ink-black clouds vanished, as if a snow leopard had pounced into a fire. The thousands of rain-arrows disappeared, as if boiling soup had been poured on snow. It was truly: A wave of the wand parts the chaos; a flick of the finger twists heaven and earth.
Such a fearsome spell, yet Dumbledore treated it as commonplace. "Harry, I will not allow a single student to be harmed by Voldemort."
"At the same time, I must apologize to you. Your encounter in the forest tonight was my oversight. I hope you can forgive me."
Seeing Dumbledore disperse the clouds and rain with a single spell, Harry was stunned.
What a White Wizard! He truly possesses incredible power!
Dumbledore's answer was watertight; Harry could find no fault. He could only clasp his hands and say, "Professor, since you wield such great magic, why not come with me to find that scoundrel Voldemort?"
"Tonight, I cut off that scoundrel's foot. He probably hasn't reattached it yet."
"But he is hiding, and I am not skilled at tracking," Dumbledore said, returning to his seat. "He will only show himself when he can no longer wait and must steal the Philosopher's Stone."
Harry ground his teeth in hatred. "When he appears, I will grind his bones to dust!"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry, how can I let you take such a risk?"
And so it was, the scarred lad angrily beat his demon-slaying wings, while the White Wizard gently pressed down the dragon-taming hand. Their words were a mix of truth and lies, their expressions a mask of false and real concern. If you wish to know what happened next, you must listen to the next chapter.
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