As Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall took only a few minutes to steady herself. By then, she too had realized the gravity of that final piece of news.
It wasn't just a rumor—it was the beginning of chaos.
Lucius Malfoy's plan for revenge was simple: use Voldemort's supposed orders to send Death Eaters to their deaths. On the surface, that might sound beneficial, but there were only a handful of ways to wipe out that many Death Eaters at once, and every one of them would shake the entire wizarding world.
It meant a terrifying upheaval was taking shape—one powerful enough to tear apart the very fabric of British wizarding society.
Compared to that, the rising Werewolf faction seemed almost trivial. Remus's letter made it clear that the werewolves were still disciplined under their leader's control.
But Death Eaters? That was another matter entirely. That bunch would do anything in Voldemort's name.
"Albus, we have to stop him!" McGonagall said firmly.
"Yes, we do," Dumbledore replied with a weary sigh. "But how do you stop a father who's lost his child and is ready to burn with his enemies? Lucius has already decided his life isn't worth keeping."
The slaughter of so many Death Eaters would surely enrage Voldemort—and Lucius Malfoy, the man responsible, would not escape unscathed.
"What if we inform Mr. Fudge? Perhaps the Ministry could step in and mediate before things get out of hand," McGonagall suggested.
"Unlikely. Cornelius never acts before disaster strikes. He's like an ostrich—he won't react until the fire's already reached his head."
Dumbledore shook his head. "We'll have to take things one step at a time. I'll have someone keep an eye on Lucius, try to contain the chaos within manageable bounds, and give Cornelius the chance to act when the time comes."
Despite his calm tone, Dumbledore felt a gnawing unease. He knew all too well the power of hatred. In his current state, Lucius could be even more dangerous than Voldemort himself.
"What about Quirrell?" McGonagall asked.
Truth be told, although everyone publicly dismissed the so-called curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position as superstition, the facts were impossible to ignore.
No professor had ever held that post for a full year without something going horribly wrong—either by misfortune or malice.
They had thought Quirrell, once Hogwarts's Muggle Studies professor, was one of their own and could be trusted. They hadn't expected that underneath the surface, he was rotten through and through.
The staff had long suspected Quirrell's intentions were questionable, but no one had imagined that one small oversight would allow him to create such a dangerous situation inside the school.
"He... is a minor issue," Dumbledore murmured. "Though Tom resides within him."
"What!" McGonagall's eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me? How could you let someone that dangerous inside the castle?"
"I assumed you'd already guessed. Ever since Lucius backed down, even if Quirrell obeys Tom, without Tom's direct pressure, Lucius wouldn't have so easily abandoned his pursuit of vengeance against Hogwarts."
Dumbledore sighed deeply. "This time, we've made use of Tom's fearsome reputation."
"But that's far too dangerous for the children! I can't even bear to imagine what would happen if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were to strike at Harry in secret!" McGonagall's composed demeanor cracked, anxiety flooding her face.
For the first time, the usually strict and dignified professor lost her composure, pacing back and forth in front of Dumbledore's desk.
She was cornered—wanting to expel Quirrell outright, yet terrified that doing so might provoke Voldemort's wrath and endanger the students.
In truth, Voldemort should never have been allowed inside the castle at all.
"Calm yourself, Minerva. Don't forget—Tom came here with a purpose," Dumbledore said softly.
"A purpose? The Philosopher's Stone?"
"Yes. Right now, resurrection matters to him more than revenge. For the Stone, he won't act recklessly—just as he once pressured Lucius into keeping Hogwarts open, forcing him to drop the school's case."
Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Tom has always been patient. That, too, is one of his strengths."
"But I still don't understand your reasoning," McGonagall said, frowning. "Wouldn't it be far safer and simpler to keep the Dark Lord out altogether?"
"Minerva," Dumbledore said gently, "a seedling sheltered in a greenhouse will never grow into a great tree. And an eaglet that never leaves its nest will never learn to fly. Harry needs hardship to grow. Don't forget—he's the child of prophecy."
He took the crumpled letter from McGonagall's hand and held it over a pile of ashes nearby.
From the ashes, a strange, featherless bird—like a newborn chick—emerged, spat a burst of fire at the letter, and reduced it to ash. The flames licked Dumbledore's fingers harmlessly, leaving not a trace of a burn.
"Even a phoenix is weak after rebirth, isn't it? The trials you've set for him are far too dangerous," McGonagall said, unable to hide the worry clouding her eyes.
"Everything remains within our control, doesn't it?" Dumbledore replied calmly. "At least this way, events won't spiral beyond reach. I won't stand by and watch that boy face an unwinnable battle without being prepared."
He stood and began walking toward the door, McGonagall following at his side.
"Quirrell's body is nearing its limit," Dumbledore continued. "Madam Pomfrey's potions no longer help him. Before long, he'll venture into the Forbidden Forest to seek out unicorns."
"This will be their only opportunity."
"What are you planning to do?" McGonagall asked tensely.
"A small prelude," Dumbledore said. "A reminder for our savior—that the world is not all joy and wonder. It holds danger and death as well."
"You mean to have him encounter Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest? At night? Albus, that's madness!" McGonagall exclaimed.
"Don't worry. I'll alert the centaurs beforehand. I can't speak for all of them, but Firenze will gladly assist," Dumbledore said. "And Quirrell will be extremely weak by then. It's the ideal moment for a first encounter."
"And the unicorn?" McGonagall pressed.
Unicorns were rare magical creatures—losing one would be a terrible loss for Hogwarts.
"It's a necessary sacrifice," Dumbledore said softly. His voice was calm, even kind, yet the words themselves were cold and merciless. "I regret it, but we cannot interfere."
It was clear from his tone that when it came to defeating Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore would allow nothing—no person, no creature—to stand in the way.