Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Water Margin

Chapter 38 The Spell of Blood Ties

Harry handed over the robe containing the human head, but Ron was still confused and didn't know what Harry meant.

He took off his robe and saw a human head that looked like a blood gourd, with a face as blue as a demon, and a large scar on its neck, from which black blood gushed.

Hermione caught a glimpse, screamed, and collapsed to the ground. Ron was stunned; his soul seemed to leave his body, leaving only a pale, empty shell.

The professors all came to look, and when they saw the head with those two faces, they all gasped in shock.

"This, this is Quirrell?"

"Is Quirrell possessed by a mysterious figure? He's been lurking in the school all along!"

"Merlin's beard... Quirrell is actually Mystic's servant..."

McGonagall and Sprout were both respectable witches, and seeing such a ferocious scene, they both turned pale.

Flitwick was a ruthless sorcerer forged in the arena, accustomed to seeing severed limbs. Dumbledore, a conqueror of all sides, if he were a soft-hearted man, how could he be called the White Lord?

The two men remained calm, which was perfectly reasonable. But seeing that Snape was acting similarly, Harry became suspicious.

He thought to himself: I have never heard of this scoundrel having seen any great scenes or made any great achievements, but this time he seems to be a man who is used to killing and ruthless. He is really strange.

Just then, Dumbledore waved his wand, and the robe covering his head flew into his hand, bringing a sliver of color back to everyone's faces.

"Ron, why did Harry say you wanted to see what Voldemort looked like?" Dumbledore cast a cleansing charm on Ron again, removing the bloodstains from his hands, before bringing him back to his senses.

"Uh... oh, I was just a little curious," Ron stammered. "Harry said he was going to chop off the head of the Mystic and show it to me, and I thought he was joking."

Harry cried out, "How can you take me for someone who makes promises he can't keep!"

"No, no, no, Harry, that's not what I meant..."

Upon hearing this, all the professors looked at Harry with expressions of horror.

Ron cut Quirrell's head off because he wanted to know what the Mystic looked like?

Is this an eleven-year-old wizard?!

McGonagall's lips trembled. "Mr. Potter! Quirrell—"

"Minerva, Quirrell has become Voldemort's servant, that's a fact," Dumbledore interrupted. "We don't need to delve into whether he was forced into it."

Harry cheered, "I've known the professor for a year, and today I've finally heard something sensible!"

Dumbledore sighed and ignored him.

Flitwick, wanting to protect Harry, replied, "Yes, Professor McGonagall, isn't Harry's life also a life? Quirrell—the Man from Darkness—won't show him any mercy."

"I think Professor McGonagall's idea is quite good." Snape looked Harry up and down, and seeing that he was unharmed, he said with a half-smile, "Mr. Potter might be more suited to Durmstrang House. Perhaps we could invite him to be an exchange student."

"Oh, don't be like that, Severus. You know why Harry couldn't control his temper when facing Voldemort."

"Now that you've made up your mind," Snape's face darkened, "I'm off. I still need to give these idiots their final exams!"

Having said that, he tossed his robe and left.

McGonagall took a breath. "Alright, Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Potter is in your care."

With a wave of her wand, Hermione, who had been unconscious, floated into the air. She then called Ron and left with the professors.

The building was deserted, with only Harry and Dumbledore remaining. The old professor waved his wand, collecting Quirrell's body.

After collecting the body, Dumbledore said, "Oh, right, Harry, there's one more thing I need to tell you. You have to go back to Privet Drive this summer to be with your aunt and uncle."

Harry frowned and said, "I gave those two over a thousand pounds; even if there was some debt of gratitude for raising them, I should at least repay it. Why should I go back to living under someone else's roof and suffer such humiliation?"

"Harry, you should be able to tell that your skin and blood can harm Voldemort." Dumbledore tapped the scar on Harry's forehead. "That's the protective charm your mother placed on you working."

"This protective spell is maintained by bloodline, and your aunt is your mother's only blood relative."

"You need to stay with them for at least two weeks for the magic of this protective spell to last."

Harry had already witnessed how his own flesh and blood had eroded Voldemort, so he didn't hesitate any longer after hearing Dumbledore's words.

"If that's the case, then I'll stay with those two for half a month."

"That's quite rare, Harry." Dumbledore winked. "I thought I'd have to grant you another request first."

Enough of this rambling.

The following day, Snape took over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. When the students asked Quirrell where he was, he only said that he had despised himself to be Voldemort's lackey and had been severely injured by Harry before fleeing.

In the old days, the Gryffindor heroes would have undoubtedly held a grand feast in the common room to celebrate Harry's arrival. However, it happened to be summer vacation, and all the courses were being examined by professors, making it a very rigorous time.

The students studied all night, their eyes bloodshot, and they had no energy left to play or have fun.

Only after June passed and all the exams were over did the school finally begin to show some signs of relaxation.

On the last night of the academic year, students and professors from the four colleges gathered together, and the noise and cheers were deafening.

Ron now walked out in shock, and if anyone asked, he would say that he watched Voldemort die and vanish in the midst of laughter and conversation.

Although Hermione was still a little shaken, she mustered her courage and was no longer afraid of Nick's nearly headless head-pulling antics.

"Want to come over to my house this summer?" Ron asked, glancing at Harry and Hermione with anticipation. "I'll write to you then."

Harry laughed and said, "How could I refuse a brother's invitation?"

Hermione nodded in agreement, "I'll definitely go if I have time—I mean, if I've finished previewing all the second-year courses."

As they continued talking to themselves, Dumbledore, who was standing on the platform, suddenly cast a megaphone spell and said, "Another year has passed. I'm sure you little wizards have all grown quite a bit in your little brains, and you must be very hungry now."

"But before that, we need to do something that Hogwarts has never missed for thousands of years—the House Cup award ceremony."

Upon hearing this, Slytherin erupted in thunderous applause, their cheers shaking the rooftops. Malfoy, meanwhile, slammed his cup on the table, shrieking and displaying his madness.

It must be understood that within this hourglass of scores, only the Slytherin lineage stands at the top. If they don't retain their seventh House Cup title, to whom will it be awarded?

As the ancients said, "Good fortune may be a harbinger of misfortune, and misfortune may be a harbinger of good fortune." Before these Slytherins could even rejoice for a moment, Dumbledore continued:

"However, we have some extra points to add before awarding the Academy Cup."

It is:

Slytherin, arrogant and conceited, smiled broadly throughout the room.

Dumbledore slammed his fist on the table; there was more to it than just the grades.