The Great Hall was bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of floating candles as students gathered for the end-of-the-year feast. The air buzzed with chatter and ughter as everyone eagerly anticipated the announcement of the House Cup winner. The banners in the hall were draped in green and silver, reflecting Slytherin’s domination in the House points for the year.

  Harry sat between Bise and Daphne at the Slytherin table, their moods lighter than they had been in weeks. "We’ve got this in the bag," Bise said confidently, leaning back in his seat. "No way anyone can catch up to us now."

  Daphne nodded, a rare smile gracing her face. "It’s practically a formality at this point."

  Harry wasn’t as vocal, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit of pride. He had contributed more than his fair share to Slytherin’s points this year, and despite everything that had happened, he was looking forward to seeing the green and silver banners celebrated for a change.

  As the feast began, Dumbledore stood, and the hall quieted down. "Another year at Hogwarts has come to an end," he said, his twinkling eyes scanning the room. "And what a remarkable year it has been."

  He gestured toward the House points hourgsses, and the hall erupted in cheers as they saw Slytherin's lead. The emeralds glittered in the tall hourgss, dwarfing the rubies, sapphires, and topazes of the other houses.

  "And now, it is time to award the House Cup," Dumbledore continued. "However, before we do so, there are some st-minute points to award."

  The Slytherins exchanged uneasy gnces. Harry felt a knot of unease forming in his stomach. Last-minute points were always a wildcard.

  "To Charlie Porter," Dumbledore began, "for his courage and quick thinking in a most challenging situation, I award Gryffindor fifty points."

  The Gryffindor table erupted in appuse, but the Slytherin table remained silent, their smiles fading. Bise muttered, "Of course."

  "And to Neville Longbottom," Dumbledore continued, "for his dedication and loyalty to his friends, I award Gryffindor fifty points."

  Another wave of cheers rippled through the Gryffindor table, while Slytherins began to shift uncomfortably.

  Harry clenched his jaw, his unease growing as Dumbledore added more points.

  "To Ron Weasley," Dumbledore said, smiling warmly, "for his steadfastness and bravery, fifty points to Gryffindor."

  "Are you kidding me?" Daphne hissed under her breath. "This is rigged."

  "And finally," Dumbledore announced, "to Hermione Granger, for her exceptional intellect and use of logic in a time of need, fifty points to Gryffindor."

  When the Gryffindor hourgss filled up, surpassing Slytherin by just a few points, the Great Hall erupted in deafening cheers. The green and silver banners magically shifted to red and gold, signaling Gryffindor’s victory.

  The Slytherin table sat in stunned silence, their faces a mix of disbelief and anger.

  "What just happened?" Bise asked, his voice low and dangerous.

  "That old coot robbed us," Daphne spat, her hands clenched into fists.

  Harry didn’t say anything. He stared at Dumbledore, who looked positively delighted with the results, as if he hadn’t just snatched victory from Slytherin in the most btant dispy of favoritism.

  As the feast ended and students filed out, the mood at the Slytherin table was venomous. "This is why no one trusts Gryffindors," Bise muttered as they walked back to the common room. "They don’t win; they’re just handed everything on a silver ptter."

  Harry said nothing, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a long-standing grudge. For the first time, he truly understood why Slytherins hated Gryffindors.

  As the feast ended, students filed out of the Great Hall, chatting and ughing as they made their way to the carriages waiting to escort them to Hogsmeade Station. Harry walked alongside Bise and Daphne, their expressions subdued. While most students seemed eager to leave for the summer, Harry felt a growing heaviness in his chest. Hogwarts had become more than just a school to him—it was a sanctuary, a pce where he could truly explore his potential, even if it came with its own dangers and secrets.

  "I can't believe we're leaving already," Daphne said, her voice uncharacteristically soft as they approached the carriages. "It feels like we just got here."

  "Yeah," Bise muttered. "Though, to be honest, I could use a break from the endless drama."

  Harry forced a small smile, but he didn’t respond. His mind was elsewhere, already dreading the restrictions waiting for him at home. The Weasleys were kind and loving, but they were also incredibly protective. After what had happened with Professor Quirrell—and Voldemort—Harry knew they would keep a closer eye on him than ever before. It wasn’t just about their concern for his safety; they were also wary of the dark magic he had learned during his time with Quirrell.

  As they climbed into a carriage, Daphne noticed his pensive expression. "You alright, Harry?"

  "Yeah," he said quickly, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Just...a lot on my mind."

  The ride to the station was quiet, the usual chatter repced with a reflective silence. Harry gazed out of the window, watching the familiar scenery pass by. He couldn’t help but think about how much he had changed over the year—how much he had learned, both academically and about himself. The freedom he had found at Hogwarts felt like it was slipping away, repced by the inevitable constraints of home life.

  At Hogsmeade Station, the Hogwarts Express was waiting, its gleaming red engine billowing steam. Harry, Bise, and Daphne found an empty compartment, and as the train began its journey back to London, they talked about their pns for the summer.

  "I'll probably spend the summer reading," Daphne said. "Father's still mad about...well, everything, so I doubt I'll be allowed out much."

  "Same," Bise added. "My mother’s convinced someone will try to poison me over the summer. She always thinks that."

  They both looked at Harry expectantly, but he hesitated. "I don’t know," he admitted. "My parents are...strict. Especially now. I doubt I’ll get much time to myself."

  Daphne frowned. "They’ll ease up eventually. Just...don’t forget to write."

  Harry nodded, grateful for their support. Still, as the train sped toward King’s Cross Station, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. The Weasleys would be waiting for him with open arms, but their love came with rules—and he had never been good at following rules.

  The compartment was lively as Harry, Daphne, and Bise sat discussing their pns for the summer, occasionally ughing at Bise’s sarcastic remarks about Hogwarts gossip. The train chugged steadily along the tracks, the rhythmic hum making the journey feel peaceful for the first time in what felt like ages.

  Suddenly, the door to their compartment slid open without warning. Ron Weasley, followed by Charlie Potter, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger, barged in, their faces flushed from excitement—or annoyance. Bise and Daphne immediately tensed, their gazes hardening as they recognized the Gryffindors who had stolen their house cup in the st-minute upset.

  “What do you want?” Daphne asked coolly, folding her arms across her chest.

  “We just wanted to see Harry,” Ron said defensively, gring at Daphne as though she had no right to question him. “It’s not like we’re here for you.”

  Bise raised an eyebrow. “And you thought barging in without knocking was the way to do it?”

  Charlie, however, seemed oblivious to the tension. He kept looking at Harry, his expression almost eager, like a puppy desperate for attention. Harry, who had been leaning back in his seat, sighed and sat up straighter.

  “What is it, Charlie?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

  Charlie hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “I just thought...maybe we could talk. You know, during the summer. You could visit...or we could meet somewhere. I’d really like to—”

  “Meet during the vacation?” Harry interrupted smoothly, his voice steady but his words clearly aimed to end the conversation. “Sure, we can pn something. But right now, this compartment is getting a bit crowded.”

  Ron’s face turned red. “Crowded? You’re seriously siding with them over your own brother?”

  Harry’s expression darkened slightly. “First of all, Ron, you don’t get to decide who I sit with. Second, this isn’t about sides. It’s about not overcrowding a space that’s meant for four people.”

  Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione stepped forward and pced a hand on his arm. “Ron, let it go. Harry has a point.”

  She turned to Harry and gave him a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry about them. They tend to forget basic manners sometimes.”

  Bise snorted. “Sometimes?”

  Ignoring Bise’s remark, Hermione added, “Actually, I think I’ll stay here if that’s alright, Harry. I’ve had enough of their antics for one train ride.”

  Ron’s eyes widened in betrayal. “Hermione!”

  “Ron, you’ll survive,” Hermione said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “Besides, I’d rather not spend the next few hours listening to you and Neville pn out your next attempt at losing Gryffindor points.”

  Charlie looked like he wanted to say something more, but Harry’s steady gaze made him reconsider. Finally, he nodded reluctantly and gestured for Ron and Neville to follow him.

  “Fine,” Ron muttered. “We’ll see you at the station.”

  As the door slid shut behind them, Bise smirked. “Well, that was entertaining.”

  Daphne rolled her eyes. “Entertaining? It was insufferable. Gryffindors always think they can do whatever they want.”

  Hermione, now settling into the seat beside Harry, looked mildly offended but didn’t argue. “They mean well...most of the time.”

  Harry gave her a small smile. “Thanks for staying, Hermione. It’s good to have someone sensible around.”

  As the train continued its journey, the atmosphere in the compartment gradually rexed. Despite the earlier tension, the four of them fell into easy conversation, the divide between houses momentarily forgotten.

  At the same time, In the dimly lit office of the Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his piercing blue eyes watching as the Potters and Weasleys entered. James Potter, Lily Potter, and Sirius Bck represented the Potter family, while Arthur, Molly, and William Weasley arrived as representatives of Harry's current family. None of them knew the reason for the summons, and their faces reflected equal parts confusion and concern.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Dumbledore began, his voice grave. “I have called you here because there is something that demands our attention.”

  He reached into his desk and pulled out a small, shimmering vial filled with silvery strands. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to it.

  “What is that?” James asked, leaning forward.

  “This,” Dumbledore replied, holding the vial aloft, “is a memory. A memory I collected from Charlie Potter. It pertains to what occurred in the chamber beneath the third-floor corridor.”

  Molly gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth. Arthur pced a reassuring hand on her shoulder, though his own face was etched with worry.

  “What are we about to see?” Sirius asked cautiously, his usually carefree demeanor repced with unease.

  Dumbledore didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stood and moved to his Pensieve, pouring the silvery strands into the shallow stone basin. The liquid swirled and shimmered, casting ghostly reflections across the room.

  “I believe it’s best if you see for yourselves,” Dumbledore said, motioning for the group to step forward.

  One by one, they pressed their hands to the surface of the Pensieve and were drawn into the memory. They found themselves standing in the chamber with the Mirror of Erised, observing the events unfold from Charlie Potter’s perspective.

  The scene pyed out before them. They saw Harry and Charlie fight Quirell, Quirrell revealing Voldemort’s presence, and the fight that ensued. Their focus sharpened as they watched Harry’s actions. He cast spell after spell—powerful, precise, and undeniably dark. The curses he used were far beyond the level of a first-year student. Each incantation crackled with dangerous energy, and his movements were fluid, confident, and eerily practiced.

  Lily clutched James’s arm as she watched, her face pale. “He’s just a child,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  “But those spells…” William muttered, his brows furrowed. “Those aren’t ordinary spells. Those are—”

  “Dark magic,” Dumbledore finished solemnly.

  Sirius looked between Dumbledore and the memory. “You’re saying Harry knows these spells? That he’s been taught them?”

  “It is clear,” Dumbledore said, “that Harry has been introduced to magic far beyond his years. Whether willingly or by manipution, he has acquired knowledge that no first-year should possess.”

  The memory continued, showing Harry instructing Charlie to attack Quirrell and eventually pocketing the Philosopher’s Stone. The group watched as Voldemort’s spirit fled the scene, and Dumbledore paused the memory before they returned to the hospital wing.

  Back in the Headmaster’s office, the group emerged from the Pensieve, visibly shaken. Molly looked ready to cry, while Arthur’s face was grim. James’s fists were clenched, and Sirius paced back and forth.

  “What are you trying to say, Dumbledore?” James demanded, his voice tight. “That my son is—what? Corrupted?”

  “Not corrupted,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “But vulnerable. Dark magic has a way of influencing even the strongest minds. Harry has shown remarkable resilience, but he has also dispyed a proficiency for spells he should not know. It is my concern that this knowledge could be exploited.”

  “We would never let that happen!” Molly excimed. “Harry is a good boy. He would never willingly turn to—”

  “Molly,” Dumbledore interrupted gently, “I do not doubt Harry’s heart. But we must be vigint. Dark magic does not tempt only those with malicious intent. It tempts the ambitious, the curious, and the determined.”

  Arthur spoke up, his voice steady. “What do you suggest we do?”

  Dumbledore looked at each of them in turn. “I suggest that we keep a close watch on Harry. Not as a prisoner, but as a child who has been exposed to dangerous knowledge far too soon. He will need guidance, support, and above all, understanding.”

  Sirius stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “And what about his retionship with Quirrell? How much did that man teach him?”

  “That,” Dumbledore said gravely, “is something only Harry can answer. And when the time is right, we must encourage him to tell us the truth.”

  Lily’s voice was small but firm. “He’s been through so much. We can’t push him too hard.”

  Dumbledore nodded. “Precisely. But if we are to protect Harry from himself—and from those who might exploit him—we must work together.”

  The room fell silent as the gravity of the situation settled over them. Finally, William spoke. “Then we agree. We’ll watch over him. Together.”

  Dumbledore gave a small smile, though his eyes remained serious. “Good. Then let us hope that, with our combined efforts, Harry will find his way.”

  And with that, the meeting was adjourned, leaving each person to grapple with the weight of what they had seen.

  Join here: Patreon(dot)com(ssh)Beuwulf