Chapter 196 – Dumbledore Is the Most Important Person Now
Just when Alexander began to attack Sirius's unreliability in his mind, in the last room under the forbidden area on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, Harry looked at the time and realized that it was getting dark—and suddenly remembered something.
"Wait, Professor Dumbledore, I have something else to say. I had a dream before, and someone wanted to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. He might be an associate of Voldemort!" Harry took out the Sorcerer's Stone and pointed at it as he spoke to Dumbledore.
At that moment, Harry's actions seemed to activate some kind of password.
The Philosopher's Stone shook violently, a dazzling red light flaring from its surface. Dumbledore quickly pulled Harry behind him and conjured a faintly visible shield.
"What is this?" Harry asked, still shaken.
The stone dropped to the ground, its vibrations shifting from rapid to slow, and then an image shimmered into the air.
"That's him—the wizard from my dream," Harry said, pointing to the young man illuminated by moonlight.
Dumbledore remained silent, studying the floating image intently.
These events were far beyond his expectations. Until now, Dumbledore had believed everything was under his control—except perhaps Grindelwald's cooperation.
When this mysterious young man had lulled Fluffy to sleep with a single word, Dumbledore's expression had darkened. His eyes showed rare astonishment.
When the man began critiquing each professor's defensive enchantments, Dumbledore allowed a faint smile—this was clearly not Tom Riddle's style.
And… the moon? Could he be a wizard from America?
Muggles had landed on the moon over twenty years ago—a place wizards had never truly claimed. That feat had impressed Dumbledore enough to remember the name of that Muggle, Neil Alden Armstrong, and his famous words: "That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind."
And now, apparently, there were wizards living there—looking as though they had never even visited Earth. (Devil's Snare was hardly rare in the wizarding world, and the reason it could kill was mostly that it resembled a harmless potted crab-claw orchid.)
Harry, meanwhile, found himself agreeing with many of the mysterious young man's remarks.
He even thought the critique of Professor McGonagall's chess-piece defense was too generous. Beyond their faceless white appearance, McGonagall had clearly made them oversized so they could only be viewed from below—a design trick borrowed from Muggle churches, where towering statues inspired awe and intimidation.
"That's it, Professor Dumbledore. These defenses are first-year level. Even Professor Snape's puzzle could be solved just by staying calm."
"Why did Voldemort rush in then? And Professor Quirrell—doesn't that seem suspicious?" Harry asked.
"Tom doesn't care if there's a trap," Dumbledore replied. "He knew there was one, but he was certain the Philosopher's Stone was here. As for Quirrell… he no longer makes his own decisions." Dumbledore's voice was heavy—he had watched Quirrell grow up, and had personally appointed him as Muggle Studies professor.
"But at least this young man, the one who calls himself a magician, is not working with Tom," Dumbledore added with a quiet sigh of relief.
"But the Philosopher's Stone is missing?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Your friend—Nicolas Flamel—"
"Oh, you know Nicolas?" Dumbledore smiled faintly.
"I'm so foolish—Hagrid must have told you three already."
"Before the Stone was entrusted to me, Nicolas and I discussed destroying it," Dumbledore explained. "But that would mean he and his wife would die."
"Could they have another Stone?" Harry wondered aloud.
"No. They simply kept enough Elixir to settle their affairs."
"Then… they'll die." Harry's shocked expression made Dumbledore smile softly. "I've spoken to you about this before—remember? By the Mirror of Erised."
"Yes. I remember."
"That wizard—the one who took the Stone—may be from the moon. Do you know who he is?" Harry asked at last.
"I don't. And I must say—that's for the best. I'm more optimistic about the future that way." Dumbledore hummed happily and gazed up at the ceiling.
An awkward silence followed.
When Harry's legs began to ache from standing and he still didn't know what to say, Dumbledore finally lowered his gaze.
There was much he wanted to tell Harry: the connection between him and Voldemort, why he lived with his aunt, why Voldemort had come for him… so many things.
But Dumbledore hesitated. He valued Harry's happiness more than the truth. He valued Harry's peace more than his grand plan. And he feared the sacrifices Harry might have to make if that plan failed.
In truth, Voldemort was counting on that very sentiment—the soft-hearted love that would make people shield one boy at any cost.
No one else, Dumbledore believed, cared for Harry as deeply as he did. Harry's childhood had already been cruel enough; Dumbledore would not add to it.
As long as Harry lived—healthy, safe, and happy—Dumbledore could accept whatever the future demanded from others.
Only now, when he was on the verge of revealing the truth, did Dumbledore realize just how much he cherished the boy.
Harry Potter was already strong enough to face Voldemort—and perhaps even defeat him. But Dumbledore still could not bring himself to speak the words: that Harry was a Horcrux, and that his destiny was to die. Even with a backup plan to save him, what if it failed?
This child was more important than anything else in the world.
"Let's see what this is," Dumbledore said at last, pointing his wand at the "Philosopher's Stone"—pretending not to notice it was merely a magical recording device, activated and deactivated by focused magic.
"Harry, why don't you go visit Ron? He's fine—just resting in the hospital wing."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. After all this, after waiting so long, this was all Dumbledore had to say?
Momentarily forgetting who Ron even was, Harry turned and walked toward the door—now free of its black flames—leaving Dumbledore alone in his thoughts.
(End of Chapter)
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