"..."
Harry Potter successfully received the message.
Harry began to think with his brain.
Harry's brain crashed.
Harry attempted to restart his brain... Startup failed.
Harry was silent for a moment.
"...Tom?"
Harry heard a very unfamiliar voice, so dry that he almost couldn't recognize it as his own.
"Hmm."
"Tom Riddle?"
"Hmm."
"Vol... Voldemort?"
"Who?"
"Oh... that's good, that's good..."
Maybe it's just a coincidence that they share the same name? After all, he'd heard from William that Voldemort had already given himself this new "name" at a very young age, even the sixteen-year-old young Tom knew. Perhaps this little boy really is just coincidentally named Tom, with the last name Riddle, and middle name Marvolo...
...yeah, right!!
Harry realized at some point he had gripped the magic wand in his hand... Wait, where did this magic wand come from? Did he have this thing in his hand just now?
"What's this?"
Little Tom curiously looked at the "wooden stick" in Harry's hand, scratched his head, and asked with some curiosity.
"This is... Tom, how old are you this year?"
Instinctively wanting to answer, Harry instead felt an inexplicable tension before the words left his mouth, and he deflected the question, clutching the magic wand tighter and cautiously moved half a body width away from Little Tom. Luckily, the boy opposite didn't seem to notice.
"Eight."
This kid's eight... oh, this really does look like eight, probably not lying. Although it's completely unclear why he would meet an eight-year-old Voldemort cub here, an eight-year-old Tom who doesn't know what a magic wand is seems reasonable.
After all, before he was eleven, before that owl dropped Hogwarts' envelope into the Dursley's entryway, before that Half-Blood Giant broke in, Harry also had no knowledge of that bizarre magic world—
The logic seems to fit, but... how did things develop to this point?
"We should go——"
Little Tom's voice interrupted Harry's thoughts, and the latter instinctively looked up, "What... where are we going?"
"Shh——"
Putting his finger to his lips, Little Tom shook his head at Harry, "He's coming." After speaking, he tugged at Harry's sleeve, and the two of them dashed through the aisle between Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff Long Table towards the side door of the hall. But just as they were passing the main guest table, Little Tom's expression turned tense suddenly—
"Too late."
He whispered, then led the still-baffled Harry to hide behind a chair at the main guest table.
"Hide quickly——"
Little Tom pushed Harry and then squeezed under a chair at the main guest table with him. Logically, it should be dim here, but the floor tiles beneath them were glowing white, almost like they were emitting light... No, this thing is emitting light.
Instinctively reaching out to feel the floor tiles beneath him, Harry felt a bit confused by the sensation—this place didn't seem any different from the floor tiles in real-life Hogwarts Great Hall, only that they appeared to emit a white glow and were shrouded in a layer of mist.
"Creak——"
Just as Harry stopped obsessing over the floor tiles and was about to ask Little Tom what exactly was going on, he heard the Great Hall door seemingly being pushed open.
"Shh——"
Little Tom signaled to Harry not to speak again and then shrank into the corner of the main guest table, motionless like a quail. With doubts in his heart, Harry also remained still, so the whole world seemed filled solely with the sound of approaching footsteps—
"Creak——"
This sounded like the benches in front of the long table being pulled away, followed by a sudden aroma entering Harry's nostrils. Instinctively flaring his nostrils, the sound of eating seemed amplified many times over—
Beef, greens, onion soup...
Harry thought he might actually be hungry, able to distinguish the types of food the other person was eating from the fuzzy sounds—
Thus, the boy swallowed and could no longer suppress his curiosity pounding in his chest. Carefully, he poked his head out from one side of the main guest table—
...
...
"Senior!!"
"No cards, no gay business."
William, lost in thought, instinctively raised his Transfiguration textbook and pressed it onto the head of a sneaky "little thief" attempting an ambush. Being a well-known good-looking figure, William was always popular in the castle and often had to guard against sneak attacks from underclass wizards—
Regardless of gender.
The Great Eagle Empire isn't called the "European Celestial City" for nothing.
"Smack—"
"Ouch."
The sixth-year's Transfiguration textbook isn't thin, and hitting someone with it like that certainly hurts. The girl who lunged at William got hit right on the head and crouched down, holding her forehead in pain.
"...Oh, it's Hermione."
William looked down and recognized the person by the bushy brown hair. Usually, when "bashing" someone's head like this, he'd check to see who it was—if it were a senior, he wouldn't use the book...
This time, he was preoccupied with thoughts. That mummy is tricky; he wasted almost a truckload of Draught of the Living Death he previously brewed, only to make that cursed mummy burp. Interrogation got no results; after all, Man-Qing Dynasty's top ten tortures were meant to break human spirit—
But that thing can't really be considered human...
William didn't have much of a solution for it for the moment, but luckily, it doesn't need to eat. Just lock it in a cage, and that's it—he even carved anti-intrusion runes around the mummy to prevent anyone from leaving a locator mark on it—
Quite a few measures were taken, mainly because he had foresight. He had Kabuda pretend to get captured before and then use the teleportation stone in its stomach to infiltrate the poacher camp... Learning from one's mistakes is good, and letting others learn from them too.
"What's up?"
William pulled the teary-eyed Hermione up from the ground and pressed his magic wand to her head. The cool sensation made Hermione instinctively sniff.
"Senior, you hit so hard..."
The girl mumbled somewhat resentfully. Though the swelling was gone, she still held her forehead, her pout so pronounced it could hold a kettle.
So William transformed his textbook into a kettle and pretended to hang it on Hermione's mouth, which startled her into stepping back and covering her mouth defensively.
William poured some hot water from the kettle into his own cup, blew on it gently, took a shallow sip, and spat out the tea leaves in his mouth. Only then did he leisurely ask, "So, what did you want with me?"
Hermione wasn't usually the rash type; such an entrance really didn't suit her character. Otherwise, she wouldn't have triggered his defense mechanism.
"Harry, Harry fell asleep again—"
It was only then that Hermione seemed to remember why she came, her expression changing slightly, "Professor Dumbledore asked me to find you."
...
When William reached the Hogwarts infirmary, the already small room was crowded.
Luckily, no one was making noise; otherwise, Ms. Pomfrey probably would have started sending people out.
Most of the people there were obviously just causing a ruckus, like the two red-haired Weasleys huddled in front of Harry's bed, whispering back and forth. William didn't speak but quietly moved closer—
"...Don't worry, Harry, even if you're still asleep during our match with Slytherin, it won't matter."
"Yes, we'll win for you too."
"But, you know, with that brat Malfoy, Slytherin's gear is way too fancy. Wood is having a headache. And Harry, you don't want Gryffindor to miss out on the Quidditch Cup, right?"
"So, just relax, Harry, we'll take good care of your Firebolt..."
MD, these two little wizards from the Yan Kingdom have quite the long map...
Seeing the twins about to find a new owner for the Firebolt in their banter, William irritably kicked them both. "Finished your homework? Just here blabbering?"
Saying this, William glanced toward the other side of the infirmary. Snape was resting with closed eyes, but William could swear he opened them when he entered; meanwhile, Dumbledore sat near a bed, chatting quietly with Grindelwald. Professor McGonagall stood by them, interjecting now and then.
Ron and Neville weren't there; Hermione said they were looking for him too.
And with William's kicks earlier, all eyes turned to him. Dumbledore stood up and walked over, his steps somewhat hurried. Before William could speak, he pointed at the bed where Harry lay, "The situation seems quite serious."
Dumbledore's tone was unusually stern, lacking even a hint of a smile.
"Really?"
William looked down; just like Dumbledore said, Harry's condition was terrible. His face was pale as if he were a body soaked in water for days, lips almost the same color as his cheeks. Though he was tucked under a blanket, it seemed he was still shivering uncontrollably—
Shivering... Shivering is good; it means he's still alive.
William paused, then gently touched his wand to Harry's forehead, and as he continued his examination, his expression grew increasingly grave—
"What's wrong?"
Snape, at some point, stood beside William. Seeing the boy open his eyes, the former quickly asked.
"...It's very serious indeed."
William gave him a curious look, then shook his head, "The old methods probably won't work."