"No... how could it be!"
This diary, of course he knew it.
This was his diary from back then!
After learning about Cassandra's story from Abraxas Malfoy, he disguised that Soul Artifact diary using Transformation Spell into a feminine style, and signed it with the fake name C.C. Malfoy.
All to ensure that Malfoy Manor carefully preserved this Soul Artifact, keeping the diary safe without anyone knowing.
After that, he handed another identical diary to Lucius Malfoy, his most loyal servant, for safekeeping.
But why... has the real Soul Artifact appeared here?
Before he could think further, the ghostly beauty twisted his soul into a black mist ball and pressed it into the diary.
[Oh no, I've become a Soul Artifact!]
This was Voldemort's last thought.
Then he lost consciousness.
And the diary returned to its worn-out appearance before the transformation, with a vortex appearing around it, silently disappearing from the spot.
...
When Harry opened his eyes again, he was met with a pair of half-moon spectacles.
It was Dumbledore, smiling at him.
"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully.
"Professor." Harry said, looking around.
He was lying on a hospital bed covered with white linen sheets, with a pile of candy on the side table, as if half a candy store had been moved here.
To his left lay the sleeping Seamus and Ron.
"These are gifts from your friends and admirers," Dumbledore said with a smile, "The matter of you stopping Professor Quirrell in the dungeon is completely secret, but secrets always find a way out, so naturally, the whole school knows — as far as I know, your friends Fred and George originally wanted to give you a toilet seat."
"No doubt they wanted to have a bit of fun with you, but Madam Pomfrey thought it wasn't hygienic and confiscated it."
Harry couldn't hold back and burst out laughing, not understanding what use a toilet seat could be — perhaps it really was just for fun.
"How long have I been lying here?" Harry asked.
"A night," Dumbledore said with a smile, "I thought you would be here much longer, but I didn't expect you to wake up before those two."
Dumbledore was undoubtedly referring to Ron and Seamus lying beside him.
"But Quirrell..." Harry frowned, not continuing.
He wanted to ask Dumbledore if he knew how Quirrell died but felt a bit guilty.
Dumbledore smiled gently, saying to Harry, "It seems my leftover flame protection was of some use, at least it protected you well — and I must confess, I conjured a broom to sweep up Professor Quirrell's remains..."
"What exactly happened?" Harry asked, slightly relieved yet confused.
"It's love," Dumbledore's voice was gentle, "Your mother died trying to save you, if there was one thing Voldemort couldn't understand, it was love. He didn't realize that such strong love as your mother's leaves its mark on you."
"Not in scars, not visible marks... being deeply loved by someone, even if they've passed away, leaves a permanent charm, hidden within your skin.
"Because of this, Quirrell couldn't touch you, his heart filled with hatred, greed, and ambition, having sold his soul to Voldemort, touching someone with such a beautiful mark caused him unbearable pain."
Harry was momentarily stunned.
No wonder...
No wonder Vivi had told him before in the Slytherin study that he had a strong Protective Spell, and the Crucio wouldn't affect him...
He originally thought Vivi couldn't bear to use Crucio on him, but it turns out... she was telling the truth.
For the first time in his life, Harry felt his mother was so close to him.
"Mom..." he murmured, tears silently sliding from the corner of his eye.
Dumbledore said nothing, only pretending to take a keen interest in a bird outside the window.
Harry took the chance to dry his tears, suppressing his choking voice, and asked Dumbledore.
"I heard Voldemort say that Professor Quirrell once sought your help but you ignored him?"
Dumbledore shook his head and said to Harry, "I'm sorry Harry, although I'm the headmaster of Hogwarts, there are things I can't do — he willingly gave himself to Voldemort, even if there was a moment of regret, it was likely part of his and Voldemort's evil plan... I'm glad you asked me that, but even if he sincerely repented, there was nothing I could do to help him because when he chose to help Voldemort, his fate was sealed."
"I understand, Professor," Harry nodded sincerely.
Knowing the Dark Wizards' deceitful nature, he couldn't summon any sympathetic thoughts.
If the old classmate had believed Quirrell, he wouldn't be the greatest White Wizard in the world.
"And the Magic Stone..." Harry continued, "I felt the Magic Stone's energy flowing into me... Professor, is the Magic Stone okay?"
"Oh, the Magic Stone..." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder, "The Magic Stone can no longer be used — I also need to remind you that you need to stay here for a few more days of observation, typically a young wizard like you absorbing the entire energy of the Magic Stone would explode, I mean, literally explode."
"But I'm living well, aren't I?" Harry laughed, not worried at all.
"I personally think so... oh, what's more, I tend to believe the spell your mother left absorbed all of the Magic Stone's energy — because I have a vague feeling that your protection has gotten stronger." Dumbledore sighed, "She was a talented witch, only she could have learned such advanced Ancient Magic."
Harry subtly breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that the headmaster's self-imagining had saved him a lot of trouble.
"Don't you know it, Professor?" Harry asked adorably, looking up.
"Those without inherent Ancient Magic talent can't learn any Ancient Magic throughout their lives," Dumbledore's eyes flashed a wise light behind his half-moon glasses.
Harry always felt that the headmaster seemed to have noticed something.
Then he remembered the Leme couple and asked, "Professor, the Magic Stone... Mr. Leme..."
"Don't worry, Nico stored plenty of Elixirs of Life," Dumbledore winked at Harry, "Moreover, we planned to destroy the Magic Stone after everything was over, so you needn't worry."
"One last question, Professor." Harry pondered for a moment, directly asking, "I always felt... you seemed to deliberately lead me to the basement? To confront Professor Quirrell... or Voldemort?"
"Harry..." A hint of surprise crossed Dumbledore's eyes, seemingly not expecting Harry to be so straightforward.
He reached out to pat Harry's shoulder and said, "Harry, when Voldemort returns, everyone has two choices — to live under his rule or die resisting."
"But you, ten years ago, left him humiliated, even forced to cling like a parasite on the back of others' heads — trust me, he's one to repay grudges, in this world, only you... have no choice."
"I understand, Professor." Harry nodded heavily.
"Alright, enough questions, I recommend starting to enjoy these candies."
Dumbledore stood up and casually scooped a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from the table.
"Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans! I had bad luck in my youth, accidentally ate a nasty-flavored bean, probably since then, I've not been fond of this product — though I think picking one with toffee flavor is always a safe bet, don't you think?"
"I suggest you pick another," Harry sincerely advised.
Dumbledore obligingly put the bean back, picked up another, and tossed it into his mouth.
"Very nice, chocolate flavor," he said with a smile.