We continue. Harry handed the robe-wrapped head to Ron, who was still confused, not understanding Harry's meaning.
He unwrapped the robe and saw a bloody, gourd-like head. Its skin was ashen, like a demon's. The neck was a gaping, bowl-sized wound, gushing black blood.
Hermione glimpsed it, shrieked, and fainted dead away. Ron also froze, his souls fled, leaving only a pale, empty shell.
The other professors crowded around. When they saw the two-Faced head, they all sucked in a cold breath.
"Is... is that Quirrell?"
"Quirrell was possessed by You-Know-Who? He was hiding in the school all this time!"
"Merlin's beard, Quirrell was You-Know-Who's servant..."
McGonagall and Sprout were respectable witches; they had never seen such a gruesome sight and their faces turned white.
Flitwick, however, was a fierce wizard forged in dueling arenas, well-accustomed to severed limbs. Dumbledore had fought in great wars; if he were a soft-hearted man, how could he be called the White Wizard?
It was only natural that these two were unfazed. But Harry, seeing that Snape was just as calm as they were, grew suspicious.
He thought: This one has never heard of this oily scoundrel seeing any great battles or doing anything famous. Yet today he acts like a man accustomed to slaughter. It is truly strange.
As he was thinking, Dumbledore waved his wand. The robe wrapped itself around the head and flew into his hand. Only then did a little color return to the others' faces.
"Ron, why did Harry say you wanted to see Voldemort's face?" Dumbledore cast a cleaning charm on Ron, removing the blood from his hands, which finally snapped him out of his daze.
"Er... Oh, I was just a little curious," Ron said dryly. "Harry said he'd cut off You-Know-Who's head for me to see. I thought he was joking at the time."
Harry shouted, "Brother, how can you take me for a man who makes light promises!"
"No, no, Harry, I didn't mean it like that..."
The professors heard this and all looked at Harry, expressions of horror on their faces.
Just because Ron wanted to know what You-Know-Who looked like... he cut off Quirrell's head?
This is an eleven-year-old wizard?!
McGonagall's lips trembled. "Mr. Potter! Quirrell—"
"Minerva, Quirrell had become Voldemort's servant. That is a fact." Dumbledore cut her off. "We have no need to investigate whether he was forced."
Harry cheered, "I have known the Professor for a year, and today, I have finally heard you speak like a human!"
Dumbledore sighed, ignoring the comment.
Flitwick, intending to protect Harry, also chimed in. "Yes, Professor McGonagall. Is Harry's life not a life? Quirrell—that is, You-Know-Who—would not have shown him any mercy."
"I, on the other hand, think Professor McGonagall has a point," Snape said, scanning Harry from head to toe. Seeing he was unharmed, he gave a faint, cold smile. "Mr. Potter is perhaps better suited for Durmstrang. Perhaps we can send him as an exchange student."
"Oh, don't be like that, Severus. You know why Harry cannot control his temper when facing Voldemort."
"Since you've already made up your mind," Snape's face darkened, "I will take my leave. I still have to set the final exams for these dunderheads!"
With that, he whipped his robes and stalked away.
McGonagall took a breath. "Very well, Dumbledore. I will leave Mr. Potter for you to handle."
She waved her wand, and the unconscious Hermione floated into the air. She called Ron, and left with the other professors.
The room was empty save for Harry and Dumbledore. The old professor muttered a spell and collected Quirrell's body.
Once finished, Dumbledore said, "Ah, yes, Harry. There is one thing I must insist on. This summer, you must return to Privet Drive to stay with your aunt and uncle."
Harry frowned. "This one has given those two thousands of pounds. Even if I truly owed them for raising me, the debt is paid. Why must I go back under their roof and suffer that stifling anger?"
"Harry, you must have noticed that your touch and your blood can harm Voldemort." Dumbledore pointed to the scar on Harry's forehead. "That is the protection your mother placed inside you."
"This protection is maintained through blood. And your aunt is your mother's only blood relative."
"You must stay with them for at least two weeks to maintain the power of this protective charm."
Harry had already seen how his own flesh corroded Voldemort. Hearing Dumbledore's words, he did not hesitate.
"If that is the case, this one will stay with those two for half a month."
"That's rare, Harry." Dumbledore twinkled. "I thought I would have to grant you a request first."
We'll speak no more of that.
The next day, Snape took over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. When the students asked where Quirrell was, they were only told he had debased himself as Voldemort's running dog and had been severely wounded by Harry before fleeing.
In normal times, the heroes of Gryffindor would have held a great feast in the common room to celebrate Harry. But it was just before the holidays, and exams for every subject were upon them.
The students stayed up all night revising, their eyes red. Who had any energy for fun?
It was not until June, when the last exam was finished, that a relaxed atmosphere returned to the school.
At the end-of-year feast, students and professors from all four houses gathered, the hall filled with chatter and cheers.
Ron was now over the shock of the head. If anyone asked, he would boast that he had calmly watched Voldemort die.
Hermione, though still a little shaken, had also regained her courage and was no longer scared when Nearly Headless Nick pulled at his neck.
"Do you want to come to my house this summer?" Ron looked between Harry and Hermione, hopeful. "I'll write to you both."
Harry smiled. "Brother invites, how could this one refuse?"
Hermione also nodded. "I'll definitely come if I have time—I mean, if I finish pre-studying all the second-year courses."
As they were talking, Dumbledore at the high table cast a Sonorus charm. "Another year gone! I'm sure your little heads are all a bit fuller... and you must be very hungry."
"But before we begin, we must go through a tradition Hogwarts has not missed for a thousand years—the awarding of the House Cup."
At these words, the Slytherin table erupted in thunderous applause. Malfoy even threw his goblet on the table, cackling wildly.
In the hourglasses, Slytherin was far in the lead. If they didn't win their seventh championship in a row, who else could it go to?
But as the ancients said: Fortune leans on misfortune; misfortune hides in fortune. The Slytherins had barely celebrated for a few seconds when Dumbledore spoke again:
"However, before we award the cup, we have some last-minute points to add."
And so it was:
Slytherin, proud and arrogant, laughs, sure of their prize.
Dumbledore bangs the table; there is more to the score than meets the eye.
Join my patreon For Early access to Chapter : patreon.com/TheWorldGod
Tiamat 200 Chapter (Final)
Honkai 550 Chapter
Lobotomy 110 Chapter
MushokuTensei 350 Chapter
'Pure Evil' Simulator Chapter Ending
Crossover Fic Blapterue-Eyes Chapter Ending
Harry want to be Hero 110 Chapter