Harry Potter: The Green Arrow of Hogwarts (Book 1) (Fan Fiction) (REPOSTED)

Chapter 15: The Years End

With Oliver

Oliver found himself in complete darkness, a quiet stillness around him. But then, he heard a familiar, urgent voice calling out through the silence.

"Ollie! Ollie, are you okay? Answer me, please."

Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Harry's relieved smile from the neighboring bed in the hospital wing.

"Cousin," Harry said softly, "are you okay?"

Oliver managed a grin. "Never better, Harry."

Just then, footsteps echoed down the aisle. They turned to see Dumbledore approaching, his eyes twinkling as he greeted them.

"Good afternoon, Harry, Oliver," he said, nodding warmly. His gaze fell upon the pile of sweets scattered on the boys' beds. "Ah, tokens from your admirers?" he added with a smile, stopping at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Admirers?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Dumbledore chuckled. "What happened in the dungeons between you two and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret. So, naturally, the whole school knows."

The boys exchanged a laugh, and Dumbledore went on. "Ah, I see that your friend Ronald has spared you the trouble of opening your Chocolate Frogs."

"Ron was here?" Oliver asked. "Is he all right? What about Hermione and Bella?"

"All of them are perfectly fine," Dumbledore assured.

Harry looked at him, hesitant but curious. "What happened to the Stone, sir?"

"Relax," Dumbledore replied gently. "The Stone has been destroyed. Nicholas and I had a little chat and agreed it was best for everyone."

"But... that means Flamel will die, right?" Oliver asked.

Dumbledore nodded, settling himself on the edge of Harry's bed. "Yes, but he has enough Elixir left to set his affairs in order. He understands, as all wise men do, that to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

Harry's brow furrowed. "How did I get the Stone, though, sir? One minute, I was staring in the mirror, and then—"

"Ah," Dumbledore interrupted, "the mirror showed you what you truly desired, Harry. But it would only grant the Stone to someone who wanted to find it... without using it. A rather brilliant precaution, if I say so myself."

The boys smiled, each quietly proud of the strange fate they had narrowly escaped.

Harry's expression darkened slightly. "Does this mean that Voldemort can never come back?"

Dumbledore's gaze softened. "I'm afraid he can return, yes. But do you understand why Professor Quirrell couldn't bear to have you touch him? What about you, Oliver—do you know why your magic affected him as it did?"

Both boys shook their heads.

Dumbledore leaned forward, his tone tender. "Harry, it was because of your mother. And Oliver, your father. Their love and sacrifice for you both left a powerful, ancient mark, deeper than magic. A protection that lives in your very skin."

Oliver blinked in surprise. "But... I didn't touch Quirrell. I turned him to stone."

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore acknowledged, "and that, too, was love's magic—a bond that protected you both, one that Voldemort cannot penetrate. The love of those who loved you first, right in your blood."

Oliver grinned. "Wow... that's amazing."

Harry leaned forward, curious. "So, it's really that simple? Just... love?"