The night wind in the Forbidden Forest carried the scent of blood and scorched earth. Moonlight filtered through the leaves, illuminating the devastated clearing.
Dumbledore stood amidst the wreckage, the blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles flickering with complicated emotions. His silver beard swayed gently in the breeze, and the expression on his face was caught somewhere between helplessness and a headache.
Just earlier, Charlie had come to his office and reported that Professor Quirrell had attacked them in the Forbidden Forest.
When he arrived on the scene, this was what greeted him.
Dumbledore lightly lifted a corner of the covering with his wand, took a glance, and quickly replaced it.
Good heavens. There was only a head left.
He turned to look at Charlie, hesitating to speak.
His original plan was to let Quirrell attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and then give Harry the choice of whether or not to confront him. That way, he could test Harry's courage and also let him personally witness the threat of Voldemort.
But Charlie had gone and directly killed Quirrell.
Couldn't this boy just stay quiet for one moment?
Though Voldemort would still come for the Stone eventually, without Quirrell, there were now new variables in play. And while Voldemort had possessed Quirrell, Dumbledore could monitor him at any time. Now that Voldemort had fled, he had no idea where the Dark Lord might go next.
Charlie's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"We saw a man in black attacking a unicorn when we entered the forest," Charlie explained.
"I stepped in to stop him, only to discover it was Professor Quirrell."
He paused, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes.
"Headmaster, would this count as... assaulting a teacher?"
Dumbledore felt like this kid was actually hoping it would.
He sighed and shook his head helplessly.
"No, Charlie. What you did was entirely right."
A trace of disappointment flashed across Charlie's face.
If it counted as assaulting a teacher, just imagine how many Tyrant Points he would've earned.
[Your Majesty, although Quirrell is a professor, he had already attacked you. This was an act of self-defense.]
The system popped up at the perfect moment.
Harry and Hermione were still reeling. The battle earlier had been genuinely terrifying, had Charlie not been so powerful, the outcome would've been unimaginable.
Unfortunately, the latter half had been shrouded in mist, so they hadn't seen Charlie's heroic figure, only heard Quirrell's screams and a few thunderous blasts.
Dumbledore stepped over to the unconscious unicorn and gently stroked its silvery mane.
"The unicorn is still alive, and you're all safe, thanks to you, Charlie."
He turned to the others.
"Let's return to the castle. Hagrid will take care of it."
The group followed Dumbledore back to the Headmaster's office.
Firelight danced in the hearth, dispelling the chill of the night.
Dumbledore placed a warm cup of honey tea in front of each of them. Sweet and soothing, it was perfect for calming shaken spirits.
But Charlie's earlier playful grin was gone. His expression had turned serious.
"I have a question," he said.
Dumbledore looked up, his blue eyes resting on Charlie.
"Why is there a dark wizard teaching at Hogwarts?"
The question was direct. No sugar-coating.
The office instantly fell silent, save for the crackle of the fireplace.
Harry and Hermione were stunned. They had been so caught up in the shock of Quirrell being a dark wizard that they hadn't even thought to question how that came to be.
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment.
"That was my failure as Headmaster," he finally said. "I owe you all an apology."
But Charlie wasn't swayed by the apology. He pressed on.
"Headmaster, if I hadn't been there tonight, or if I hadn't been strong enough, then the ones who would've died would be innocent students."
His gaze was sharp, locking onto Dumbledore's.
"And the unicorn."
Hermione clenched her fists involuntarily, still shaken by the danger they'd been in.
Ron's face had gone pale. That green curse, if it had hit Charlie, the consequences would've been unthinkable.
Harry rubbed at his scar, which was still faintly aching.
Dumbledore looked down, like a scolded child.
"You're right, Charlie," he admitted. "If not for you, I dare not imagine what might have happened tonight."
Just as Harry and Hermione were beginning to feel a little sorry for Dumbledore, Charlie suddenly shifted tone.
"In that case..." he said, "could I ask the Headmaster for a small favor?"
"As a reward," he added with a grin.
Hermione shot him a glance. As expected, Charlie was playing it up for benefits.
But considering what he'd done tonight, he deserved it.
She immediately played along, tearfully saying, "Professor, I was so scared... Professor Quirrell nearly killed us!"
She even gave Harry and Ron a nudge with her elbow.
Ron blinked. "Why'd you jab me?"
Hermione wanted to jab him again.
This blockhead, couldn't he just follow the lead?
Harry blinked slowly and clutched his forehead. "R-Right... my head really hurts... I think it might be aftereffects or something."
Ron finally caught on. "Yeah! That was terrifying, I'm still shaking!"
Dumbledore, of course, saw right through the act.
But he had already planned to reward Charlie anyway.
Quirrell's incident had indeed been mishandled, and Charlie had saved everyone. He deserved a reward.
"Of course, Charlie," Dumbledore said kindly.
"Hufflepuff earns a hundred points. And if you want anything else, just say the word."
Charlie's eyes lit up.
Here it comes, benefit time!
"Well, nothing too crazy. I just want to expand the space inside my trunk a bit."
"And maybe make the environment inside it feel a little more realistic."
Dumbledore's brows lifted slightly. Years ago, there had been another Hufflepuff with a trunk like that...
"Mr. White... you're not planning to raise animals in that trunk, are you?"
"What? Of course not, Professor! That would be against school rules."
"I'm a model of discipline!"
Charlie flashed a dazzling white grin.
Despite some lingering suspicion, Dumbledore nodded his agreement.
"Headmaster, I also have one more question," Charlie said.
Dumbledore set down his tea and motioned for him to go on.
"During the fight, Quirrell suddenly changed. His whole presence shifted."
Charlie frowned, recalling the moment.
"He wasn't a match for me before... but suddenly, he became incredibly powerful."
Harry instinctively rubbed his scar again, still faintly aching.
"Yeah... it started hurting right then."
Hermione and Ron exchanged glances, both recalling the suffocating dread that had surged through the forest.
Dumbledore's expression turned grim. His eyes glimmered with deep thought.
He had a good idea what had happened. It must've been Voldemort's doing, but he didn't say that outright.
"Charlie, could you extract that memory for me to review?"
"Extract a memory?" Charlie blinked. "How?"
Dumbledore stood and walked over to a silver basin by his desk.
"This is a Pensieve. It allows us to store and examine memories," he explained, lifting his wand. "I'll teach you the spell."
"Memoria Revela."
Charlie's exceptional talent in Charms showed itself instantly.
Almost before Dumbledore had finished speaking, he'd already mastered the technique.
With a tap of his wand to his temple, a shining thread of silver memory was drawn forth.
He handed it to Dumbledore, who placed it gently into the Pensieve.
With a flick of his wand, a transparent screen shimmered into view in midair.
The memory began to play.
On the screen, Charlie was blasting spells at Quirrell like a machine gun.
"Sectumsempra! Sectumsempra! Sectumsempra!"
Dumbledore's eyes widened in disbelief at Charlie's casting speed.
That rate of spellcasting was ridiculous.
Casting spells was instinctual for a wizard, yes, but there was always a moment's pause between spells.
Like a blacksmith hammering metal, if you swing the next blow before recovering from the last, you risk tearing a muscle.
But Charlie's pauses were barely perceptible. Each spell was fired at full power.
Even Dumbledore himself would struggle to maintain that output.
This child's talent... was unprecedented.
What Dumbledore didn't know was that Charlie had maxed-out Charms proficiency, and his system reduced cast delay dramatically.
It was like replacing a blacksmith's hammer with a pneumatic forge hammer. Of course it was faster.
The recording continued, Quirrell was being thrashed, forced to cast shield after shield.
Then came the turning point.
Black smoke poured from Quirrell's body, blanketing the sky.
Dumbledore's face darkened.
Then Charlie summoned a dense fog, and the memory ended there.
Smartly, Charlie had omitted the part where he transformed into an Eastern Fireball Dragon.
He knew his Animagus form was unusual. Better to keep that card hidden.
Dumbledore waved away the image, and the room fell silent.
"Headmaster?" Harry asked cautiously. "That black smoke... what was it?"
Dumbledore let out a long sigh. The firelight deepened the lines on his face.
"Children... I must tell you a harsh truth."
"Voldemort has returned."
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• TL/N •
Hello guys Fanfic recommendation!
Check out my other work:
> Naruto: Mind Control
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It's Peak.
Give it a chance and you won't be disappointed