Fred stepped forward and knocked on the door knocker, and the oak door silently opened.
Dumbledore's office was quite marvelous, with portraits of former headmasters hung all over the walls, some asleep, some watching them with interest, and some with an empty frame. The long-legged table was covered with odd silver instruments, spinning and emitting small puffs of smoke. The Sorting Hat sat on a shelf, as if asleep, making soft snoring sounds.
Behind the door, a tall gilded perch stood, upon which perched an extraordinarily beautiful bird. Its feathers were golden and red, though sparse, still stunningly beautiful, gazing at everyone with lively eyes.
"Good heavens!" Hermione whispered, "It's a phoenix! I've read in books that Professor Dumbledore has a real phoenix—"
Albus Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, with half-moon spectacles perched on his crooked nose, dressed in a deep purple robe adorned with irises. He sat in a high-backed chair, gazing at everyone gently with his light blue eyes.
"Welcome, children. I hope my office hasn't bored you."
"How could it? This place is fascinating, Professor!" Fred boldly and lively responded.
Dumbledore chuckled gently and said, "You mentioned in your letter that there is something very important you wish to tell me? You can speak now."
Everyone exchanged looks, urging each other with their eyes. Even Hermione seemed to hesitate, as she had been forced to break the rules and wasn't eager to confess.
In the end, Vid had to step forward, repeating the conversation he previously overheard, while others interjected with their guesses.
Michael's face gradually turned pale, not expecting that they would discuss such serious matters in the headmaster's office. He glanced around, feeling like he was the only one shocked by the situation.
Dumbledore patiently listened without showing any surprise. His gaze, seemingly able to see through hearts, fell on Vid and asked, "Are you certain you weren't discovered while hearing that conversation?"
"I had used the Flame Curse beforehand, unsure if he noticed the traces of the spell. But I hid immediately when Professor Quirrell entered, out of sight from the window's angle."
Vid spoke meticulously, "Before he left, I made sure not to make any noise, use any magic, nor have any noticeable scent. I waited outside until dawn before returning, encountering Griffiths' portrait and Professor Morry on the way back. In the subsequent Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Quirrell didn't pay special attention to me nor did his attitude noticeably change."
Dumbledore nodded slightly and added, "For now, it seems he hasn't discovered anything. But I want you to remember one thing—from today onward, refrain from thinking about this matter or making eye contact with Professor Quirrell, understand?"
Vid nodded silently.
"Professor!" Leian couldn't help but ask, "Won't you capture him? While he's still unaware he's been exposed!"
"It's not time yet, Mr. Carlo," Dumbledore said patiently. "Actually, I had noticed some troubling changes in our Professor Quirrell since the semester began. The intel you provided confirms my worst suspicions—but now is not the time to expose him. Rest assured, I've entrusted a very reliable person to monitor him and will ensure students' safety."
"So Professor… he's really…" George asked softly.
"I believe so," Dumbledore confirmed their suspicions, "Voldemort has returned to this school once again, in a form no one could've imagined. But he probably never expected that his brilliant disguise would be discovered by a few children—he constantly underestimated those not as strong as him—oh, indeed, your performance was commendable."
"But—everyone says Voldemort was killed by baby Harry Potter, wasn't he?" Fred asked.
"He was gravely injured on that night when he attempted to kill Harry and vanished from sight. But he didn't actually die; I have always been convinced of this," Dumbledore said, "Voldemort is now in a rare state, beyond the reach of the Killing Curse."
Fred looked puzzled but Dumbledore offered no detailed explanation.
"Professor, can I tell Harry about this?" Hermione asked cautiously.
"I don't think so, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said politely yet firmly.
"But—"
"Given that Voldemort killed Harry's parents, I believe informing him that his enemy is right in front of him is not a wise choice," Dumbledore said, "Harry might not handle this calmly and rationally as you have, which would put him in great danger. Therefore, I need you to keep this secret, especially from Harry—can you do that?"
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Fred muttered, "But the Mysterious Man still wants to kill him! For the sake of safety, does Harry have to leave the team?"
"Wood would cry," George barely smiled, "He says Harry is the best Seeker he's ever seen—he's pinning all hopes of winning the championship on Harry."
"Oh, regarding that—"
Dumbledore clasped his hands and smiled, "I believe we shouldn't abandon the joy of Quidditch for lurking eyes in the dark. So, yes, Harry doesn't need to leave the team, and I'll ensure his safety."
With his assurance, the Gryffindors immediately felt relieved—who in the young lions' hearts could be more reliable than Dumbledore?
The group happily prepared to take their leave when, at the door, Leian hesitated and stopped.
"Professor Dumbledore—"
"Yes?"
"There's one more thing—" Leian hesitated, unsure.
"Feel free to speak, Mr. Carlo."
"Professor Quirrell—" Leian mustered courage and asked, "What will happen to Professor Quirrell after you drive away the Mysterious Man?"
"—Will he be okay?" Leian asked.
Faced with this question, Dumbledore, always composed, finally showed some change in emotion.
He looked deeply into Leian's eyes, with a hint of moisture.
"I'm afraid not, child."
Leian's eyes widened.
"Voldemort did terrible things to him to attach himself—very terrible—forming an evil symbiotic relationship between them. When Voldemort leaves, Quirrell is bound to die."
Everyone fell silent.
For these eleven-year-old children, witnessing someone beside them inevitably walking toward death—even a bad person—it made them begin to feel sadness.
"Children, your sympathy for him and desire to save him show very noble qualities."
Dumbledore lowered his eyes, kind yet firm, he said—
"But when Quirrell sold his soul to Voldemort out of greed and ambition, this was already destined."
Leaving the Headmaster's Office, everyone had mixed feelings.
"Dumbledore really knows everything," Fred said, "Did you see? He wasn't surprised at all."
"Really unimaginable," Leian said, "We're only in our first year and we're already experiencing such things—war, the Mysterious Man, death, I thought these things would be far from us. And Professor Quirrell—alas, I heard he was really good before."
They stood by the corridor, outside, snow-covered, some young wizards were laughing and playing a snowball fight in the yard, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley among them.
"Dumbledore is right," Hermione suddenly said.
Vid was perplexed, "Hmm?"
"We shouldn't tell Harry the truth," Hermione gazed at Harry with a tender, almost motherly look, "Otherwise, the harsh reality and hatred would suffocate him."
"—Don't talk about this," Vid reminded, "Remember Dumbledore's words, we should try not to think about it and avoid looking at that man…better keep your distance."
Hermione nodded silently.
Michael looked at Vid, hesitant to speak. Vid questioned him with his eyes, but he just shook his head, saying nothing.
Returning to the common room in the evening, Michael finally avoided everyone and quietly said, "I thought you'd resent Dumbledore—he knows everything but allows students to face danger—you almost died, Vid."