Chapter 111. Going Home and the Plan
The hubbub in the Great Hall gradually subsided until only the candlelight flickered faintly in the air.
All the students had already left, returning to their common rooms and dormitories.
Most of the professors had also departed.
In the end, the vast hall held only Adrian Wesson and Professor McGonagall.
"Is there anything else, Professor Wesson?" Professor McGonagall looked at Wesson, puzzled. "It's getting late."
"Professor Dumbledore asked me to wait a moment," Wesson turned his head and said. "He said it was something urgent."
Just now, Wesson had received Dumbledore's message, asking him to linger for a short while after the feast.
Wesson glanced toward the High Table.
At some point, Dumbledore had already vanished from his seat, nowhere to be seen.
"Ah, very well."
Professor McGonagall nodded, sat down opposite Wesson, and asked in a low voice, "About that matter… is it true?"
"Which matter?" Wesson showed a puzzled look.
Professor McGonagall looked around; after making sure no one else was there, her voice became barely audible. "That… about You-Know-Who. Dumbledore told me you crossed wands with him in that room on the fourth floor."
It seemed Dumbledore must have told Professor McGonagall about it.
That was only natural.
After all, Professor McGonagall was Hogwarts's Deputy Headmistress, and Dumbledore trusted her greatly.
"If he told you, it should be fine," Wesson nodded and said lightly. "It wasn't anything monumental—You-Know-Who had taken over Quirrell's body. He was in dreadful shape—he'd fall apart at a touch."
"Merlin's beard!" On hearing Wesson's answer, Professor McGonagall's lips trembled slightly, and she said in a reproving tone, "That was You-Know-Who! You should have informed Professor Dumbledore immediately, not faced him alone!"
"Don't worry, Professor McGonagall," Wesson gave her a reassuring look. "A damaged life can't stir up much of a storm—even if it's You-Know-Who."
In fact, even without the Tree of Wisdom's "Energy Amplification" at the time, Wesson had a way to wear Lord Voldemort down—it would only have been a little more troublesome.
"That still doesn't—"
Just then, footsteps sounded.
Dumbledore had returned.
Seeing the two of them talking, Dumbledore looked slightly puzzled and asked, "What are you discussing? Ah, I hope it isn't complaints about tonight's dinner… the House-Elves were a bit muddled this evening—they forgot to add sugar to my pumpkin juice."
Wesson felt that adding sugar to pumpkin juice was the muddled approach.
Professor McGonagall frowned; she seemed to think the same.
"It's about Lord Voldemort, Professor," Wesson answered offhandedly.
Dumbledore froze for a second, then nodded to the two of them and said, "I don't think discussing that man is wrong, but I would rather you call him You-Know-Who, not by his name."
"I'll keep that in mind." Wesson nodded.
Only then did he realise he had spoken Voldemort's name aloud.
Saying Voldemort's name really shouldn't be done, because Voldemort had placed magic on his own name—whenever anyone said "Voldemort," he could sense it.
What an overbearing piece of magic.
After Dumbledore shot Professor McGonagall a meaningful look, she inclined her head and left the hall.
"So… what was the urgent matter?" Wesson asked, puzzled.
Dumbledore took a white envelope from his pocket and said, "I told Nicolas Flamel about the Philosopher's Stone. Just now, he wrote back—he'd like to meet you."
"No problem," Wesson nodded. "When?"
"In three days' time."
At that timing, Wesson frowned slightly—that was exactly when the students would be taking the Hogwarts Express home.
Seeing this, Dumbledore asked, "Do you have other matters to attend to?"
"In fact," Wesson shrugged and said, "I'm going to take Harry home. I don't think his uncle and aunt will come to fetch him."
At Wesson's reply, Dumbledore looked a little surprised.
"You truly spoil Harry," he said. "We can set off in the evening."
"Then there's no problem."
At last, the day to go home arrived.
Harry received a notice warning them that they were not permitted to use magic during the holidays.
However, Harry knew it wasn't absolute—someone had told him there were ways to get around that restriction.
Afterwards, not until he was on the train, seated in a compartment with Hermione and Ron, did Harry realise he seemed to have forgotten to send a letter to his aunt and uncle.
That meant they wouldn't come to pick him up—and he didn't know the way home.
Fortunately, just as Harry realised this, Wesson stepped into their compartment from the corridor.
Seeing the three astonished faces, Wesson smiled. "Good evening, you three. May I sit here?"
"Of course," Harry said in delight.
He knew he no longer had to worry about getting home.
As the train sped along, the three of them chatted excitedly.
Even with Wesson present, they still talked about almost everything—from what brand of shampoo Professor Snape might use all the way to their holiday plans.
Wesson, meanwhile, sat to one side, absorbed in writing and sketching on a sheet of parchment, pausing now and then in thought.
At last, his behaviour piqued Hermione's curiosity.
"Professor Wesson, what are you writing?" Hermione couldn't help asking, her eyes darting to the parchment covered in tidy lines of script.
"A few plans—arrangements for the summer," Wesson said with a smile.
"Cool," Ron leaned over from the opposite seat. "Can I have a look?"
Wesson slid the plan to the middle of the table—this wasn't anything that needed to be kept secret.
The three immediately crowded in. The parchment was filled, line after neat line, with a few places crossed out and amended.
"Maintain Transfiguration practice… learn simple defence spells… preliminary work on casting Protego…"
Hermione read as she went, her brows knitting tighter.
At last she looked up. "Professor Wesson, this can't be for you, can it? It looks like some sort of… teaching plan."
Harry and Ron also realised something was off.
Wesson gently drew the parchment back, smiled, and set his gaze on Harry.
"Wait—" Harry froze, a bad feeling rising, and pointed to himself. "This is my summer plan?"
Wesson nodded. "You can't slack off during the holidays."
"You sound like you'll be awfully busy, Harry," Ron said, lounging comfortably in his seat. "Hope you'll still have time to come over to mine."
Hermione's eyes, on the other hand, were shining. "I'm so jealous, Harry. A study plan made by a professor, just for you!"
With only a brief glance, Harry could already see the dense timetable packed across the page.
It looked like this summer, he wouldn't be idle.
But that was fine.
Harry knew this was Wesson showing how much he valued him.
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