Severus Snape entered the office with the same careful precision as Dumbledore, making sure to skirt around the Mirror of Erised before taking a seat across from the headmaster.
In his usual frosty tone, he asked, "Can't you just remove that mirror?"
"It might still come in handy tomorrow…" Dumbledore nudged the bowl of cockroach clusters toward him. "Care for a sweet? You look utterly drained."
"No, thank you." Snape curled his lip, pressing himself as far back into the chair as possible, wearing an expression of deep distaste. "I delivered the potion ingredients as requested—didn't tamper with a single thing."
"These are sensitive times. If you had, he'd have noticed immediately." Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "You did exactly right."
"A lot happened tonight." Dumbledore let out a long sigh. "Many of my suspicions were confirmed, and there were a few surprises as well."
"Voldemort lacks a body of his own, so he isn't truly alive—which means he can't truly die, either. But most importantly, there were no casualties tonight."
"Harry Potter… that magic…" Snape's face twitched. He drew a slow, deep breath before asking, "It worked as expected?"
"It did. It even deflected an Avada Kedavra." Dumbledore sipped his tea, his eyes thoughtful.
"Voldemort has indeed returned… but it's impossible to say what state he's in after tonight."
"You can't determine the Dark Lord's condition?" Snape frowned. "Did you… kill him?"
"It's complicated." Dumbledore kept dropping sugar cubes into his tea. "His understanding of souls is… profound. He's developed a unique theory of the soul."
"He can manipulate life force in a way akin to a soul-form. That Killing Curse was cast by stripping Quirrell's life force to fuel the spell."
"Stripping Quirrell's life force?" Snape's brows drew together. "Did you use… the Philosopher's Stone on him?"
"You're as astute as ever." Dumbledore nodded. "It was a dangerous moment—one more misstep, and we'd have lost Quirrell."
"That's not something to take lightly." Snape steepled his fingers. "How do you plan to explain this to Nicolas Flamel?"
"That part's easy." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Nicolas Flamel granted me full ownership of the Philosopher's Stone. I can use it as I see fit."
"I'd originally planned to destroy the Stone, as we'd discussed. But now, I've changed my mind. It's become vital for sustaining life."
"Hmm…" Snape hummed, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied Dumbledore. "You seem… different."
"Oh?" Dumbledore arched an eyebrow.
Snape steepled his fingers again, searching for the words. "You're more like a classic Gryffindor now—like your true nature is showing through."
"You're not holding yourself back as much as before. It's as if a lion is about to break free from its cage."
"Is that so?" Dumbledore swirled his teacup gently, the image of the silver-blue armored giant flickering through his mind.
"Well, tonight brought some remarkable discoveries. Maybe that's changed me—at least a little."
"Whatever you say." Snape's voice was low and flat. "My goal is simple: I want the Dark Lord dead."
Dumbledore gave Snape a long, searching look before changing the subject. "About Wyzett's Soul-Soothing Draught—is it possible for it to have a lasting effect on someone's soul?"
"I haven't reached that level of mastery yet… If a potion fundamentally alters someone, it's either because the brew was flawed, or the drinker already had some underlying issue."
"Oh? Have you ever seen such a case?"
"Only in books. If a person's soul is fragile, certain rare potions might trigger a change in their soul."
"Is that so? Fascinating discovery."
With finals over, both students and professors at Hogwarts found themselves with time to spare, and the castle bustled with more energy than ever.
Somehow, word of what had happened in the dungeons spread like wildfire. In little more than a day, everyone at Hogwarts seemed to know the story.
Restless students now had a new mission: they flocked to the hospital wing in droves.
The crowd pressing into the infirmary left Madam Pomfrey at her wit's end. In desperation, she enlisted Professor McGonagall's help and stationed enchanted suits of armor at the entrance just to keep order.
The soft flutter of wings woke Wyzett. The golden glow of sunset streamed through the curtains, painting a vivid orange wash across the hospital floor.
The table beside his bed was piled high with gifts—mostly an impressive variety of sweets.
Harry's bedside table was just as crowded. Only the table next to Professor Quirrell was conspicuously bare.
Wyzett stood, carefully selecting a few of each type of candy and setting them on Quirrell's empty table.
The rest he planned to take back to the Ravenclaw common room to share with his housemates.
"Awake, are you? Then sit up straight and let me have a look at you!" Madam Pomfrey bustled over, twirling her wand in circles above his head.
"Madam Pomfrey, may I leave the hospital wing?" Wyzett asked.
"You may." She nodded. "You've recovered nicely—much better than those two, at any rate!"
"Are Professor Quirrell and Harry badly hurt?"
"How should I put it? They aren't suffering from magical injuries. With enough rest, they'll be fine in a couple of days. If you want to slip out, now's a good time—there's hardly anyone about."
Wyzett nodded, pulling paper and pen from his bag to leave a note for Quirrell:
Professor Quirrell, everything is better now. Wishing you a speedy recovery.
He packed up his things, just managing to fit all the sweets into his bag.
Beneath the mountain of candy, he found a note from Dumbledore:
Enjoy your time after finals. If you have any questions, come see me in the headmaster's office after the Quidditch match. The password is still "Jelly Slugs."
"Quidditch!" Wyzett started, hurrying over to Madam Pomfrey. He whispered, "Madam Pomfrey, how long was I asleep?"
"Just one day." She reminded him, "You're recovering well, but remember—don't—"
"—abuse Baruffio's Brain Elixir." Wyzett finished with a grin. "I'll be sure to rest, thank you!"
The common room was bustling. As soon as he appeared, students crowded around, eager for the real story of last night's events.
Remembering Dumbledore's advice, Wyzett kept his tale simple: a dark wizard had broken into the school and been discovered by the students. He glossed over the rest, letting the mystery linger.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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