SOLSTICE

027

           

                Everyone sat on edge, anxiety palpable in the room, until they sighed in a bit of relief as his body turned to ashes. The tension that had gripped them loosened slightly.

Many marveled at what kind of power it was.

How was it possible that Harry’s touch burned his body?

However, from behind, dust clouds form from Quirrell's corpse-

“CONSTANT VIGILENCE.” 

-causing Harry to turn around as the dust clouds with Voldemort's face rushes forward screaming and goes through Harry who also screams. Voldemort flies away, as Harry falls to the ground, unconscious. He holds the Stone in an outstretched hand. 

As everyone sat there dumfounded, they tried to process what had happened since the four kids went down the trapdoor. The challenges they faced, the injuries they received, and the shocking twist that it was not Snape, but Professor Quirrell behind it all, left the room in stunned silence.

The frightening revelation was the appearance of Voldemort, attached to the back of Quirrell's head. The image of the Dark Lord, weak and pathetic, yet still terrifying, clung to their minds.

And more terrifying was the way Bella cackled when it was confirmed that the Dark Lord was alive. Even though her sanity and physical appearance were way better but her eyes still gleamed with a manic light, reflecting a madness that sent chills down the spines of everyone present.

Voldemort had been present in the school all this time, and yet no one knew. All this had happened right under the nose of Dumbledore. They weren't sure whether the school would be safe in the future.

"How is it possible that Harry's touch burned his body?" 

"It's like some sort of ancient magic or curse.

People made their own conclusions.

Many of the adults watched the whole ordeal with sharp eyes. Most of them had a hunch about what it was.

The Potters fussed over Harry, bombarding him with questions about whether he was alright. It took a lot of time for Harry to settle their worries.

Dumbledore's eyes twitched as many pointed fingers at him, questioning his authority in the school, but he managed to deflect their scrutiny. But not for long.

They all had loads of questions, worries, and concerns, but none were prepared for the answers.

In the quiet of the hospital wing the next day, Harry stirred from his sleep, his arm still bandaged from the events in the dungeons. As he blinked and adjusted his glasses, he noticed a spread of cards and candy surrounding him. Dumbledore approached him.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore greeted, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, tokens from your admirers?"

"Admirers?" Harry echoed, confused.

“Look at his innocent, confused expressions,” someone remarked.

“You are a Potter, of course you’d have people chasing after you,” James boasted, puffing out his chest as many boys around them scoffed in jealousy.

Rabastan tutted as he played with the ring in his finger, “You are a Potter, of course your only two brain cells would be up in your arse.” 

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