adored by him | *under editing*

first year × 14

The first thing that met his emerald eyes was the blinding white lights of the Hospital Wing. They darted around, his blurred vision soon becoming clear as he slipped on his glasses. Then, the memories hit him like the Hogwarts Express.

Professor Quirrell was Lord Voldemort.

"Good afternoon, Harry." Professor Dumbledore's raspy voice pulled him back into reality and gestured to the table beside his hospital bed. "Ah! Tokens from your admirers?"

"Admirers?" Harry furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the table stacked with treats, cards and flowers. He grinned broadly upon noticing Nadia's elegant cursive in one of the cards.

"What happened down in the dungeons between you and Quirrell was a secret. So, naturally, the whole school knows." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he chuckled quietly. "I see your friend, Ronald, has saved you the trouble of opening your chocolate frogs."

Harry's smile fell. "Ron was here? Is he okay? What about Hermione and Nadia? How are they?" The bespectacled boy rambled frantically only stopping at the elder man's raised hand.

"Fine. They're all just fine." Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief at those simple words but his mind was still racing.

"What happened to the stone?"

"Relax, dear boy. The stone has been destroyed. My friend, Nicolas, and I had a little chat and decided it would be for the best." Dumbledore explained.

Harry still wasn't put at ease. "But, Flamel? He'll die, won't he?"

Dumbledore perched himself at the end of Harry's bed with a small smile. "He has enough Elixir to set his affairs in order, but yes, he will die."

Harry sighed. "How is it I got the stone, sir? One minute, I was looking into the mirror and the next..."

"Ah, you see, only the person who wanted to find the stone, find it but not use it, would be able to get it." He gave a cheeky grin. "One of my more brilliant ideas. Between you and me, that's saying something."

"Does that mean that, with the stone gone, Voldemort can never come back?" Hope was laced throughout Harry's tone but the grave look on Dumbledore's face immediately washed it away.

"I'm afraid that there are ways in which he can return." Harry sighed again. "Harry, do you know why Professor Quirrell couldn't bare to have you touch him?"

Harry pondered the question. No, he didn't know. Dumbledore took that silence as his answer. "It was because of your mother. She sacrificed herself for you, and that kind of act leaves a mark." Harry reached for his scar but Dumbledore shook his head. "No, not that kind of mark. This type of mark cannot be seen. It lives in your skin."

The boy was overcome with confusion. "What is it?"

"Love, Harry. Love." Harry suddenly felt warm inside as Dumbledore stood and took the box of jellybeans from the table. "Ah, Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans. I was most unfortunate enough to come across a vomit-flavoured one in my youth. I suppose a nice toffee wouldn't be bad." However, his face contorted with disgust as he popped the caramel-coloured bean into his mouth. "Alas. Earwax." Harry giggled at the man.

Soon, Dumbledore was ushered away from Harry so Madame Pomfrey could check him over and deem him well enough to attend the End-Of-Year feast. After all of her well-natured poking and prodding, Harry was free to change and freshen up before leaving the Hospital Wing.