“It seems…
Professor Quirrell asked you for a small favor?”
The moment Hermes recited the password and entered the Headmaster’s office, he heard Dumbledore’s faintly teasing voice.
He raised his gaze and met the blue eyes behind Dumbledore’s half-moon spectacles.
They remained gentle as ever, but beneath that gentleness lay an unshakable weariness.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of honey, though neither of them paid it any attention.
Hermes walked straight toward the fireplace and replied with some dissatisfaction, “I would hardly call it a small favor.”
Then he glanced at Dumbledore, who was seated nearby, and chuckled.
“Your sources are remarkably efficient, Professor Dumbledore.”
Quirrell had only just dumped an entire week’s worth of lessons on him, yet Dumbledore had learned about it almost immediately.
Dumbledore paused before raising his eyes to Hermes.
His voice was light and soft, as though he were discussing something trivial.
“Poor Quirrell…”
He pondered for a moment, his tone carrying profound regret.
“He could have had a much better life.”
“He was a Ravenclaw and a very intelligent young man.
Unfortunately…
his sensitive nature left him with a deep sense of insecurity.”
Dumbledore sighed.
“Over time, he developed a thirst for power.
He believed that if he became strong enough, no one would ever be able to ridicule him again.
“After graduating, he remained at Hogwarts as a professor.
Then, a year ago, he requested a leave of absence so that he could travel and broaden his horizons…”
“I am not interested in Professor Quirrell’s past.”
Leaning against the armrest of the sofa, Hermes narrowed his eyes, concealing whatever thoughts might have been moving behind them.
“Very well.”
Dumbledore showed no irritation at being interrupted.
“Then let us talk about you.”
As he spoke, his wise eyes—eyes that seemed capable of seeing through the human heart—settled upon Hermes.
“You must have realized the truth long ago.”
The mood in the office abruptly became serious.
Firelight flickered across the room, casting the shadows of the two men far along the walls.
“Professor, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean.”
Dumbledore smiled and shook his head.
“A wizard whose Occlumency is so powerful that I cannot detect the slightest trace of emotion must surely possess at least some proficiency in Legilimency, wouldn’t you agree?”
His gaze remained gentle, but the certainty behind it was absolute.
Without waiting for Hermes to answer, he continued, “Ever since Quirrell returned from Albania, he appears to have undergone certain changes.”
After listening to him, Hermes silently nodded, confirming Dumbledore’s suspicions.
As a powerful Legilimens, Dumbledore would naturally become suspicious if a mind he had once been able to enter at will suddenly became an impenetrable fortress.
More importantly, the last place Quirrell had visited was Albania—the place where Lord Voldemort had last been seen.
Dumbledore had always known that Lord Voldemort had not truly died.
And now, Hogwarts housed the very thing he desired most: the Philosopher’s Stone.
Sooner or later, he would make his move.
One or two details might have been dismissed as coincidences, but once all the clues were connected, the answer became obvious.
There was something wrong with Quirrell!
Or rather, Quirrell might already have fallen under the Dark Lord’s influence and become his servant.
Hermes leaned slightly forward.
“Then what do you intend to do, Professor?”
The Headmaster’s office fell completely silent.
Only the flames in the fireplace continued to burn, crackling softly in the stillness.
Dumbledore remained silent for a long time.
He stared into the flickering flames, conflict and guilt stirring in the depths of his eyes.
For once, he seemed uncertain how to begin.
Finally, he drew a deep breath and concealed those emotions, once again assuming the warm demeanor of a kindly old grandfather.
Blinking mischievously, Dumbledore said, “At present, it is nothing more than a suspicion.
I may still need some time to verify it.”
Hermes, however, had no interest in speaking around the issue.
“You intend to send Harry against him.”
It was a simple statement, but the certainty in his voice was unmistakable.
A flicker of astonishment crossed Dumbledore’s eyes as he stared at Hermes.
He had told no one of this decision.
It was not even a fully formed plan yet, but merely a possibility he had entertained within the privacy of his own mind.
“Don’t look at me like that, Professor.”
Hermes turned his head slightly and looked toward Fawkes, his expression growing complicated.
“Isn’t that what the prophecy says?”
Dumbledore’s fingers tightened slightly.
The warmth in his expression faded, revealing the weariness underneath.
“I cannot deny that.”
He admitted it without evasion, his voice suddenly sounding much older.
Dumbledore had indeed used Harry.
He had placed the boy with the Dursley family not solely because living with them was necessary to preserve Lily’s protective magic.
He had also deliberately allowed Harry to grow up surrounded by hardship, intending to guide and train him into the weapon that would one day bring an end to the Dark Lord.
After all, a child raised without love, upon finally finding something precious enough to protect, might become more willing than anyone else to sacrifice everything for it—including his own life.
“I love that child deeply.
Even if he must face Lord Voldemort, he will be safe.
I promise you that…”
Dumbledore spoke softly, as though he were trying to reassure Hermes—or perhaps himself.
“Even if ensuring his safety costs me my life.”
As Hermes looked upon the vulnerability Dumbledore had never shown the rest of the world, his expression became equally complicated.
For the greater good.
Those words had once come from Dumbledore himself.
Yet for the sake of the righteous ideals he still held within his heart, he had forced himself to become calculating and rational, turning everything around him into part of an elaborate plan.
Nothing had been exempt from his calculations.
Not even his own life.
A moment later, Dumbledore raised his eyes.
He had already prepared himself for what would follow—for accusations, contempt, and disgust.
After all, he had turned an infant into a weapon.
Yet what he saw was an exceptionally calm Hermes.
There was no anger in his expression, no disappointment, and not the slightest hint of blame.
Dumbledore froze briefly before uncertainty surfaced in his eyes.
“You…
don’t believe I am selfish and cruel?”
Hermes spread his hands and shrugged.
“Why should I?”
Admittedly, using a child as a weapon was hardly honorable.
But the survival and peace of the entire wizarding world depended upon it.
Dumbledore was far from the only person who would have made such a decision.
If the same choice had been placed before almost anyone else in the wizarding world, they would likely have done the same.
Perhaps even more ruthlessly.
“Even if the path ahead ultimately requires him to walk to his death?”
Dumbledore’s eyes trembled.
As though he could no longer bring himself to meet Hermes’s gaze, he silently lowered his head.