The five evaluators moved to the far side of the room to discuss their observations, leaving Harry to catch his breath.
Twenty minutes later, they returned.
Filmore gave him a respectful nod, while Croaker looked positively delighted.
“You’ve got a hell of a lot of raw power,” Filmore began.
“Your finesse and movement still need work, but damn, kid—you’ve got serious potential. How do you feel?”
“A bit tired,” Harry admitted honestly, “but I’m all right now.”
Filmore shook his head in amazement.
“That would’ve exhausted any of us. It’ll be interesting to see how much stamina we can build in you.” A predatory grin spread across his face.
“You’re special, kid. No doubt about it. We’re going to push you as far as you can go.”
“Well done, Mr. Potter,” Croaker said warmly.
“Might I ask you one more thing?”
“I’ll answer if I can.”
“Is there anything else in the prophecy you think we should know? It could be important.”
Harry considered it for a moment.
“After everything you’ve done to help me, the least I can do is give you the full contents. It won’t make any difference in this timeline anyway.”
Croaker thanked him sincerely.
They agreed it clearly referred to him and Voldemort, but the phrase “the power the Dark Lord knows not” remained a mystery.
Filmore speculated it might refer to the time travel itself, though no one was certain.
Both men concluded that Harry was already Voldemort’s equal in both power and potential.
This only strengthened Filmore’s determination to forge him into the greatest wizard possible.
Those hellish weeks of training were all in service of saving their world—a far nobler cause, Harry felt, than Dumbledore’s vague “greater good.”
End Flashback
Harry’s time in the Department of Mysteries was finally drawing to a close.
Filmore had assured him that he had prepared the teen as thoroughly as possible.
The rest was now up to Harry.
He would have two more years at Hogwarts to continue honing his skills—something he was more than willing to do.
The Room of Requirement awaited him there, a secret space even the Marauders had never known, ready to provide everything he needed for his ongoing self-improvement.
Still, there were moments when he felt torn.
He missed his friends.
He missed the life he had left behind.
But he knew there was no going back.
He did his best to swallow the sadness that rose whenever he thought of never seeing them again.
He doubted the feeling would ever truly fade.
He would always miss them, even if only in some small way.
Perhaps, years from now, he might see versions of them again—but they would never be the same people he had known. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts…
Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, feeling defeated for the first time in his long life.
He and every available ally had done everything they could, yet they had found no trace of Harry Potter.
The boy had simply vanished.
Weeks of exhaustive searching had yielded nothing.
Harry had not visited Gringotts.
He had sent no messages.
Dumbledore was completely stumped.
He knew it was unlike Harry to run from his responsibilities.
Deep down, he remained convinced the boy was still alive.
Severus had confirmed that Voldemort did not have him—the Dark Lord’s forces were searching just as frantically.
Remus had grown nearly inconsolable, desperately hunting for any whisper of Harry’s whereabouts, even venturing into the seediest parts of the wizarding world.
Fawkes had been unable to locate him, and even Dobby—who had bonded himself to Harry—could find no sign.
The mystery of Harry Potter’s disappearance had become desperate indeed.
With no leads left, all Albus Dumbledore could do was wait… and hope.
The fate of the war hinged on the boy, after all.