HARRY POTTER AND THE PEVERELL VESSEL Chapter – 2 Three Strange Occurrences, a harry potter fanfic

Chapter – 2 Three Strange Occurrences

Soft as a feather, a whisper broke the eerie silence. "Harry Potter," it murmured. "Have you learned the art of dueling?"

Harry stood firm, defying the Dark Lord, his sleeves torn and blood seeping from his arm. Nineteen of the man's followers circled him like hungry hounds, clad in their ominous Death Eater attire. A bit farther away, Peter Pettigrew cradled his new silver arm, a so-called "gift" from the same master who had taken his original one.

Disgusting.

Harry stole a glance at Cedric Diggory, lying motionless on the ground, stunned just in time. Then Pettigrew petrified him again.

His grip on his wand tightened, his faithful companion since he first entered the magical world at the age of eleven. Despite the impending mortal danger, the gentle pulse of his wand brought him a modicum of solace.

Voldemort chuckled, his crimson eyes gleaming through the cemetery's murky darkness. Waves of magic radiated from him, urging Harry to flee.

Fear.

Helplessness.

Frustration.

Rage.

Emotions assailed his mind. This was the monster who had orphaned him, slain his parents, and shattered his childhood.

"I asked you a question."

The Dark Lord's tone carried an unexpected politeness, even a touch of charm. A peculiar contradiction.

"Dumbledore's protege, Parseltongue speaker, the slayer of Slytherin's basilisk, the vanquisher of history's greatest Dark Lord... Surely, you're familiar with dueling?"

"...Yes." The word left Harry's lips, sounding oddly serpentine to his own ears.

"How splendid!" Voldemort's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Prepare yourself, Harry! Rest assured, none of them," he gestured to the other Death Eaters, "will intervene. I'll give you a fair chance to vanquish me once more."

Harry narrowed his eyes. What was this all about? He was alone, wounded, exhausted, and outnumbered. There was nowhere to run.

So... why? Why all this theatrics?

"Is this a mere game to you?" He unconsciously spoke in Parseltongue, making the Death Eaters visibly uneasy. One even dropped his wand in surprise.

Oh, right. Parseltongue had a trait muggles called 'infrasound,' affecting the nervous system. It amplified fears and vulnerabilities, triggering an intense fight-or-flight response in others, particularly among witches and wizards. It explained why so many had turned against him in his second year.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his wand and met the Dark Lord's gaze.

"I see you're finally tapping into your potential," Voldemort smirked, sounding like a connoisseur savoring fine wine. "It's truly unfortunate that we must be adversaries."

Harry tightened his grip on his wand. "And whose fault is that?"

Surprisingly, the Dark Lord paused, contemplating his question. "Tell me, Harry Potter," he began, sounding genuinely curious, "if I were to grant you immunity, would you join my side?"

Harry blinked.

"..."

"... Are you... are you insane?"

"HOW DARE YOU—" Someone from the crowd raised his wand to hex him.

"Now, now," Voldemort lazily flicked his wand, flinging the man away. "Let's not get so angry. Young Harry is still at Hogwarts. Untrained. Unhoned. A son of the illustrious Potter family. A Parseltongue, much like myself. I wouldn't be surprised if we had a shared ancestry somewhere."

Harry stared, feeling the surrealness of the situation. Was this really happening?

No. This was a game. This monster was toying with him. Nothing more.

"You killed my parents," he snarled.

"It was a war," the Dark Lord shrugged. "People die. But I was merciful. I told them to stand aside, three times. They chose death."

"You tried to kill me."

"I did."

"... Why?"

The Dark Lord chuckled, sending shivers down Harry's spine and making his heart race. Would he finally get an answer? He had asked the Headmaster the same question every year, only to receive vague responses and empty promises. Maybe Voldemort would be less frustrating?

"Because you could become a potential threat in the future. My attempt to kill you was... as the muggles say, 'nip the problem in the bud,'" he said, tilting his head slightly. "I offer you one more chance. Join me and be spared."

Spared. Spared from what? This monster would destroy anyone who crossed his path—Dumbledore, Sirius, everyone. What was the point of life then?

"No."

Something terrible gleamed in the Dark Lord's eyes. "You see me as your enemy, boy. But you have no idea of the extent of my power. I ask thrice. Join me or die."

Harry clenched his teeth. The man was playing with his emotions, baiting him, testing him.

Allowing his rage to consume him, he spat at the source of his suffering. He raised his wand and—

—was sent tumbling backward.

The Death Eaters laughed.

"We must adhere to decorum," Voldemort chided, flicking his wand again. Harry lost control of his body. It wasn't a petrification hex; it was more like... he had lost his sense of touch, weight, and movement.

He stood there, encircled by his enemies, completely powerless.

"First, we bow," Voldemort scolded. "Formalities must be observed," he mocked. "Such a lack of manners. Dumbledore would be disappointed."

The Death Eaters openly laughed now, taunting and jeering, treating him like their entertainment for the night.

"Bow, Harry Potter. Bow to Death."

He wouldn't.

He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He was not—

"I said, BOW!" Voldemort flicked his wand once more, and Harry screamed.

An invisible force pressed down on his shoulders, overwhelming him. He bit his lip, trying to resist, but it was futile. His spine bent, and he knelt on the grass.

In response, Voldemort offered a slight, mocking bow.

"That wasn't too difficult, was it?" he asked, a faint smile gracing his lips.

Harry met his gaze, his defiance unwavering even in the face of impending doom.

It only widened Voldemort's smile as he raised his wand. "And now, we duel!"

Harry had little time to react before he was flung across the graveyard. The gesture was rough but precise, enough to rough him up without causing harm.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort murmured. "Is this truly all you can muster?"

He flicked his wand again, disrupting Harry's incantation and tossing him about as before.

"There's no Dumbledore to rescue you," he said. "No mother to shield you. No friend to stand in your place."

Voldemort wasn't even trying to kill him, and Harry knew it. This was a display, proof of the man's dominance, a reminder that his defeat fourteen years ago had been nothing but luck.

"You are alone now, Harry Potter. And you. Are. Nothing."

The anger inside him burned hotter. Somewhere in his mind, a memory surfaced, an entirely ordinary memory.

Certainly, here's a reworded version of the chapter you provided:

An observation.

A spell.

One that Alastor Moody had once demonstrated to his entire class. It was a spell buried deep within Harry's memories, one he had never seen a reason to use, nor had he ever imagined wanting to use.

Until now.

"Crucio!"

Pain immediately interrupted Harry's thoughts, pain beyond anything he could have ever imagined. And in that moment, the thought of that single spell overtook his mind once more. He couldn't find it in himself to use anything but that spell.

Powerful spells often had their unique requirements, as the Patronus had taught him. This spell had its own requirements as well. And now, as he knelt on the cemetery floor, he knew he would be able to cast it.

He would cast it.

"Farewell, Harry Potter!" Voldemort raised his wand again. "Avada—"

Harry didn't wait for the man to finish. He leveled his wand, pointing it forward as he called forth the power deep within him, feeding it with all the hate, wrath, and fury he could muster before yelling as loudly as he could—

"AVADA—"

"—KEDAVRA!"

Harry gripped his temples, trying to force the memory back into the recesses of his mind. The sight of dusty shelves lined with even dustier tomes didn't help. Whoever had thought that conducting an interrogation inside the Headmaster's office was a good idea must have been influenced by one of Neville's potions.

After nearly a week in a coma, Harry had opened his eyes to find Hogwarts nearly deserted. It turned out that everyone had hastily vacated the school after the Third Task. The details were hazy, but McGonagall had instructed him to report to Dumbledore's office as soon as Madam Pomfrey had given him the all-clear.

Knowing Madam Pomfrey's tendencies, Harry had escaped the Hospital Wing within an hour.

But now, he wished that Madam Pomfrey would come to his rescue. At least then, he wouldn't have to endure Percy's feeble attempts at sneering. No hard feelings, Percy, he wanted to say. There's only one Severus Snape, and he doesn't have red hair.

So that's how he found himself seated on one of the excessively cushioned chairs, while three individuals, including Percy Weasley, questioned him about the events of that night.

That was all right. It was expected, after all.

Every year, Draco Malfoy would pester him on the Hogwarts Express.

Every year, Snape would be unpleasant to him.

Every year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would attempt to hinder him.

Every year, he would face mortal danger in one way or another.

And at the end of each year, he would have a heart-to-heart with Albus Dumbledore in the Hospital Wing, immediately following the danger. It was a conversation in which Dumbledore would promise answers, offer vague advice, and send him back to Privet Drive.

Practically a ritual, wasn't it?

But this year was different, perhaps due to the Triwizard Tournament. The woman with grey hair and a monocle over her right eye was Amelia Bones, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Susan Bones' aunt. He had no idea who Susan was, but perhaps one of the girls who sat near Ernie Macmillan at the Hufflepuff table.

The second person was Albus Dumbledore, of course. And lastly, Percy Weasley, the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, although Harry wasn't quite sure what an Undersecretary did.

"To rephrase," Percy said, trying and failing to sound haughty, "you acknowledge using an Unforgivable Curse against another wizard, fully aware that the penalty for such an action is a life sentence in Azkaban?"

Harry could appreciate Percy's talent for rephrasing statements while simultaneously writing them down in beautiful calligraphic script. If he turned his nose up any higher, he might resemble Lucius Malfoy.

He chuckled to himself.

"Potter!" Percy snapped. "Stop laughing and answer the question. Did you, with full intention, cast the Killing Curse?"

Harry noticed that Dumbledore had stiffened. Evidently, they had administered two drops of truth serum and a mild calming draught, but it didn't seem to be working.

At all.

This was one of the three strange things that had been happening to him since he woke up. But he couldn't resist taking advantage of it.

"I tried to cast the curse. The next thing I remember is waking up with Madam Pomfrey fussing over me."

"Did you or did you not cast the curse?" Bones pressed.

"I have no idea. The last thing I recall was the green light from Voldemort's wand. And then this…"

Using their doubt and suspicion to his advantage was a neat trick he had learned from observing Dumbledore over the years. With a touch of bitterness, it became even more convincing. Some people had a natural talent for making him want to slap them without uttering a word, and Percy was clearly one of them.

"Suspect admits to attempting a Killing Curse," Percy declared, his dicta-quill faithfully recording his words on parchment. "The suspect shows no remorse for the act."

"Suspect also thinks you're a buffoon."

Percy sputtered, while Amelia Bones raised an eyebrow. Harry was amazed at how much grace she conveyed in that simple gesture compared to his own lack of it.

That brought him to the third strange thing that had been happening to him. He couldn't seem to stop talking, as if his mouth had disconnected from his brain and was operating independently. Whether it was due to the veritaserum or not, he couldn't say.

"Perhaps I can provide some clarity on this matter," Dumbledore began, his eyes twinkling merrily. "You see, Harry, casting the Unforgivable Curses successfully requires a specific mindset that is so dangerous that Aurors and Hit-wizards capable of casting them are typically retired."

"Wow," Harry drawled. "Moody must have been asleep when that lesson was taught."

Amelia Bones let out a throaty noise that Harry interpreted as suppressed laughter.

Dumbledore appeared amused. "Alastor is a retired Auror, Harry. He was forced to leave the Auror force after acquiring that particular mindset."

"That didn't stop him from demonstrating in front of children."

"Alastor demonstrated on animals," Dumbledore clarified. "Casting an Unforgivable Curse on an animal is not the same as using it on a witch or wizard. Alastor must have mentioned that during his class. Just knowing the incantation and wand movement is not sufficient to cast the curse."

"Yeah, that proves it," Harry's mouth continued. "I said the incantation, performed the movement, and nothing happened. No curse. What's next?"

Albus Dumbledore, the conqueror of Gellert Grindelwald, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Grand Sorcerer of the International Confederation of Wizards, blinked owlishly.

"Are you sure he wasn't hit by a Cheering Charm?" Bones asked.

"I'm... not sure?" Dumbledore replied with uncertainty. "Perhaps his magical coma had an effect on the draught's efficacy."

"Regardless, let's get back on track without the sarcasm, gentlemen." The stern woman fixed Harry with a serious gaze. "Let me confirm your statement, Mr. Potter. You found Fleur Delacour in the maze suffering from the aftereffects of a Cruciatus Curse. In your own words, you left a corporeal Patronus, a stag, to protect her. You also encountered Victor Krum attacking Cedric Diggory, and according to you, he was using the Cruciatus Curse."

Harry nodded.

"You then disarmed Krum, at which point Cedric attacked you from behind. He managed to petrify you, and then portkeyed both himself and you to the Forbidden Forest. Then, he dragged you further and portkeyed to a different location."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"And what do you infer from all this?" Madam Bones asked.

"That Diggory is a sonofabitch?" Harry quipped, causing Amelia Bones to choke on her own spit, while Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement. Percy, however, remained silent, attempting to mimic one of Neville's cauldrons during Potions class.

"Look, I don't know, alright?" Harry continued. "Diggory and I... we weren't best friends, but he isn't Malfoy either. I told him about the dragons, and he shared the secret to unlocking the golden egg."

"You knew about the dragons before the task?" Percy inquired, pointing at Harry with the feather of his quill. "How?"

"My owl told me."

Madam Bones cleared her throat. "As I was saying, you broke free of the Petrification Hex and attacked Diggory, stunning him. And then Peter Pettigrew hit you from behind with yet another hex."

"Bloody wankers, hitting me from behind," Harry muttered. He was still quite upset about being attacked from behind. With that kind of attitude, how did Pettigrew even get sorted into Gryffindor in the first place?

He made a mental note to have a few choice words with the Sorting Hat when this was all over.

"Just to confirm, we are talking about the same Peter Pettigrew who received a posthumous Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his contributions to the war? The one presumed dead for the past thirteen years?" Madam Bones asked.

Harry confirmed with a nod. "Yes, that's the same Peter Pettigrew."

"The suspect admits to attempting a Killing Curse," Percy declared, his dicta-quill recording his words diligently. "The suspect shows no remorse for the act."

"Suspect also thinks you're a buffoon," Harry interjected.

Percy spluttered, while Amelia Bones raised an eyebrow. Harry couldn't help but appreciate how much more gracefully she handled the situation compared to Percy's indignant outbursts.

This led to the third strange occurrence that had been happening to Harry: he couldn't seem to stop talking, as if his mouth had a mind of its own and was operating independently. Whether it was due to the veritaserum or some other factor, he couldn't say.

"Wow," Harry drawled. "Moody must have been asleep when that lesson was taught."

Amelia Bones made a throaty noise that Harry interpreted as suppressed laughter.

Dumbledore appeared amused. "Alastor is a retired Auror, Harry. He was forced to leave the Auror force after acquiring that particular mindset."

"That didn't stop him from demonstrating in front of children."

"Yeah, that proves it," Harry's mouth continued. "I said the incantation, performed the movement, and nothing happened. No curse. What's next?"

Albus Dumbledore, the conqueror of Gellert Grindelwald, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Grand Sorcerer of the International Confederation of Wizards, blinked owlishly.

"Are you sure he wasn't hit by a Cheering Charm?" Bones asked.

"I'm... not sure?" Dumbledore replied with uncertainty. "Perhaps his magical coma had an effect on the draught's efficacy."

"Regardless, let's get back on track without the sarcasm, gentlemen." The stern woman fixed Harry with a serious gaze. "Let me confirm your statement, Mr. Potter. You found Fleur Delacour in the maze suffering from the aftereffects of a Cruciatus Curse. In your own words, you left a corporeal Patronus, a stag, to protect her. You also encountered Viktor Krum attacking Cedric Diggory, and according to you, he was using the Cruciatus Curse."

Harry nodded, and the questioning continued.

"Voldemort…" His expression darkened. "He gave me an offer to join his side. To grant me immunity if I did."

"Did he now?" Dumbledore asked, suddenly interested. "And what was your response?"

"I declined. Three times. And then we dueled."

"Preposterous!" Percy exclaimed.

Harry ignored him. "He Cruciated me. It hurt like a bitch, but I fought back. And then he used it on me."

"The Killing Curse?" Dumbledore probed.

For some reason, Harry felt that the old man was expecting, perhaps even hoping for, an affirmation.

He nodded.

Amelia Bones scrutinized him with her hawk-like gaze, but remained silent.

"Harry's retelling aligns with the scene I came upon," Dumbledore interjected. "When I reached the graveyard, I found him lying on the ground, unconscious."

"Surrounded by bodies?" Madam Bones inquired.

"Bodies?" Harry asked, genuinely startled. The last thing he remembered was the Death Eaters laughing all around him. Had something happened after that?

The Headmaster's expression looked doleful. "When I appeared at the site, I found you unconscious on the ground, surrounded by several bodies clad in Death Eater robes and masks."

Dumbledore paused.

"All of them were dead."

"…All?"

"Twelve," the Headmaster specified.

"And rotting," Madam Bones added. Harry could feel her watching his expressions closely. "Do you remember anything like that happening that night, Mr. Potter?"

"Uh, no?" Harry replied, hoping it sounded less foolish out loud than it did in his head.

Still… dead? What the hell happened that night? Had the Killing Curse backfired again? Was that why his vault had all that gold while the Weasleys were dirt poor?

"Wait," Harry mumbled, "now that Voldemort is back, does that mean you'll take my money away?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled even more merrily.

"I also have another report here," Madam Bones continued, despite the slight twitch on her lips, "It says here… you claimed Professor Quirinus Quirrell was possessed by the Dark Lord?"

"He was on the back of his head, like a bad pimple."

"Madam Bones," Percy began pompously, "clearly Potter's delusions have no limits. And it is worth pointing out, Professor Dumbledore is notorious for being biased towards Potter and his—"

"Mr. Weasley," the woman snapped, turning towards him. "Last I checked, I was the Director of the DMLE, and you are merely a scribe. Allow me to fulfill my duties, and you take care of yours."

"Junior Undersecretary to the Office of the Minister," Percy corrected. Harry could see the conflict in Percy's eyes, torn between submitting to authority and being irritated at being treated like a child. "And Minister Fudge was adamant that I ensure—"

"Minister Fudge is not here," Bones challenged. "And if he has anything to contribute to the matter, he can discuss it with me in person. Please limit yourself to your scribe duties, or I'll have you removed from my presence at once."

"Good job!" Harry praised under his breath.

"Now then," Madam Bones turned her dry stare back towards Harry. "Let us continue where we left off."

"Voldemort…" His expression grew darker, "He offered me an opportunity to join his side. To grant me immunity if I did."

"Did he now?" Dumbledore asked, suddenly interested. "And what was your response?"

"I refused. Three times. And then we dueled."

"Preposterous!" Percy declared.

Harry ignored him. "He Cruciated me. It hurt like a bitch, but I fought back. And then he used it on me."

"The Killing Curse?" Dumbledore probed.

For some reason, Harry felt that the old man was expecting, perhaps even hoping for, an affirmation.

He nodded.

Amelia Bones scrutinized him with her hawk-like gaze but remained silent.

"Harry's retelling aligns with the scene I came upon," Dumbledore interjected. "When I reached the graveyard, I found him lying on the ground, unconscious."

"Surrounded by bodies?" Madam Bones inquired.

"Bodies?" Harry asked, genuinely startled. The last thing he remembered was the Death Eaters laughing all around him. Had something happened after that?

The Headmaster's expression looked doleful. "When I appeared at the site, I found you unconscious on the ground, surrounded by several bodies clad in Death Eater robes and masks."

Dumbledore paused.

"All of them were dead."

"…All?"

"Twelve," the Headmaster specified.

"And rotting," Madam Bones added. Harry could feel her watching his expressions closely. "Do you remember anything like that happening that night, Mr. Potter?"

"Uh, no?" Harry replied, hoping it sounded less foolish out loud than it did in his head.

Still… dead? What the hell happened that night? Had the Killing Curse backfired again? Was that why his vault had all that gold while the Weasleys were dirt poor?

"Wait," Harry mumbled, "now that Voldemort is back, does that mean you'll take my money away?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled even more merrily.

"I also have another report here," Madam Bones continued, despite the slight twitch on her lips, "It says here… you claimed Professor Quirinus Quirrell was possessed by the Dark Lord?"

"He was on the back of his head, like a bad pimple."

"Madam Bones," Percy began pompously, "clearly Potter's delusions have no limits. And it is worth pointing out, Professor Dumbledore is notorious for being biased towards Potter and his—"

"Mr. Weasley," the woman snapped, turning towards him. "Last I checked, I was the Director of the DMLE, and you are merely a scribe. Allow me to fulfill my duties, and you take care of yours."

"Good job!" Harry praised under his breath.

"Now then," Madam Bones turned her dry stare back towards Harry. "Let us continue where we left off."

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence after Percy's shocking suggestion. Harry's mind was in turmoil, and he couldn't help but think about the possibility that his mother hadn't been killed by Voldemort but had succumbed to the magical backlash caused by the failed Killing Curse.

Madam Bones, still reeling from Percy's audacity, finally broke the silence. "PERCIVAL WEASLEY!"

Her voice was sharp and commanding, cutting through the tension in the room. Percy seemed to shrink under her gaze, his smug expression replaced with fear. He had clearly crossed a line, and Madam Bones was not one to tolerate insubordination.

"Get out," she ordered, her voice cold and stern.

Percy stammered, "B-but I—"

"I said, get out!" Madam Bones repeated, her patience wearing thin.

Percy hurriedly rose from his chair, casting a nervous glance at Dumbledore and Harry before practically sprinting out of the office, the door closing behind him with a loud thud.

The atmosphere in the room shifted once again, and Dumbledore's expression remained somber, while Madam Bones appeared resolute.

Harry, still grappling with the implications of Percy's suggestion, couldn't find words to express his thoughts. It was as if a fundamental truth had been challenged, and he needed time to process it.

Madam Bones turned her attention back to Harry, her tone much softer than it had been when addressing Percy. "I apologize for that interruption, Mr. Potter. Please continue."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "I... I'm not sure what to think about what Percy said, but I'll continue with my account of the events."

He proceeded to recount the events in the graveyard, from his duel with Voldemort to the unexpected arrival of his parents' spirits and the subsequent escape with Cedric's body. He left out some details, like the Priori Incantatem effect and his parents' conversation with Voldemort, not wanting to reveal everything at this moment.

As he spoke, Madam Bones took notes, and Dumbledore listened attentively, occasionally nodding or asking clarifying questions. The tension in the room had not completely dissipated, but the focus was back on the matter at hand.

Once Harry had finished recounting the events in the graveyard, Madam Bones asked, "And what happened after you returned to Hogwarts?"

Harry described how he and Cedric had arrived back in the maze and were declared joint winners of the Triwizard Tournament, how Moody (Barty Crouch Jr.) had helped him, and how they had brought back the injured and unconscious Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour. He also mentioned how Moody had given him the Marauder's Map as a reward for his efforts.

Madam Bones nodded thoughtfully, and Dumbledore's expression remained inscrutable.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Madam Bones said, "we have your account of the events. I must inform you that this is a highly unusual and potentially dangerous situation. The circumstances surrounding your survival and the deaths of those who intended to harm you are quite extraordinary. We will need to conduct further investigations, including examining your wand, to better understand what occurred."

Harry's heart sank as he remembered the state of his wand. "About my wand... Is there any way to repair it?"

Dumbledore spoke up, his tone regretful. "I'm afraid not, Harry. The damage to your wand is irreversible. We will need to provide you with a new one."

Harry nodded, his thoughts dwelling on the loss of his faithful holly and phoenix feather wand. It felt like losing a part of himself.

Madam Bones continued, "As for your safety, we will take precautions to ensure your protection. You will not be left without supervision until we have a better understanding of the situation."

Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of confinement and unease at the thought of constant supervision, but he knew it was necessary given the circumstances.

Dumbledore added, "We will also be consulting with experts in various fields of magic to investigate the events in more detail. It is crucial that we uncover the truth."

Madam Bones concluded the meeting by saying, "You are dismissed for now, Mr. Potter. We will be in touch with you soon regarding the next steps."

Harry nodded and stood up, feeling drained and overwhelmed by everything that had transpired. As he walked out of the office, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was now entangled in something far more complex and mysterious than he had ever imagined.

Harry sat in silence, his mind still reeling from the shock of Percy's accusations and the strange, ephemeral experience he had just gone through. Madam Bones had a point; he needed to cooperate and provide answers to their questions. He took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand.

Madam Bones turned over another page in her folder and continued, "Let's move on, Mr. Potter. We have a limited amount of time, and there are more questions that need answers."

Harry nodded, determined to cooperate.

"Firstly, regarding your ability to speak Parseltongue, you mentioned that it's an established trait of the Gaunt family. Have you ever looked into your family's ancestry to confirm this?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I haven't. I didn't even know about my connection to the Gaunt family until recently."

Madam Bones made a note of this. "Very well. We may need to look into this further."

She then asked, "Regarding your entrance into Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, can you provide any additional information about your experiences there? Any knowledge you gained, any encounters you had, or any artifacts you found?"

Harry considered her question. "Well, there was a basilisk in the Chamber, and it was controlled by Tom Riddle's diary. I encountered Tom Riddle's memory in the diary, and he tried to possess me. I destroyed the diary with a basilisk fang."

Dumbledore nodded, and Madam Bones continued to make notes. "Thank you for sharing that. We will investigate the Chamber further to ensure it's safe and to see if there are any remnants of dark magic."

"Moving on," Madam Bones said, "let's discuss the events at the cemetery. You mentioned that you were hit by the Killing Curse. Can you recall any additional details about that moment? Any feelings, sensations, or thoughts?"

Harry closed his eyes briefly, trying to recollect the horrifying moment. "It was... it was a flash of green light. There was a burning sensation, and then... darkness. I thought I was dead."

Madam Bones made another note and then asked, "And after you regained consciousness, you mentioned the appearance of your parents' spirits. Can you provide more details about that encounter? What did they say or do?"

Harry hesitated. He knew that the conversation with his parents had been deeply personal, and he wasn't sure how much he should reveal. "They... they encouraged me to escape, and they told me they loved me. They said they would always be with me."

Dumbledore offered a reassuring nod, and Madam Bones noted down his response. "Thank you for sharing that, Mr. Potter."

Madam Bones then turned her attention back to the broader investigation. "Now, Mr. Potter, we have a theory that your survival and the deaths of those who sought to harm you may be connected to some form of magical protection triggered by your mother, Lily Potter. We will need to explore this theory further and gather more evidence."

Harry nodded, still grappling with the idea that his mother's sacrifice might have had even greater consequences than he had ever imagined.

Dumbledore spoke up, his voice gentle. "Harry, we understand that this is a lot to process. We are committed to uncovering the truth and ensuring your safety. You are not alone in this."

Madam Bones added, "You may be asked more questions in the future, and we may conduct additional investigations. Please cooperate to the best of your ability, and we will do everything in our power to protect you."

Harry appreciated their words of support and nodded in response. The weight of the situation was immense, and he knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges and uncertainties. But he also understood that he needed to uncover the truth about his abilities and the events in the graveyard.

With determination, he said, "I'll do whatever it takes to find out what happened and why I survived. I want to understand."

Madam Bones gave him a nod of approval. "That's the spirit, Mr. Potter. We'll be in touch soon with further instructions. For now, you are dismissed."

As Harry left the office, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was just beginning to unravel a web of mysteries that would reshape his understanding of his own life and the world of magic itself.

The room fell silent after Harry's exclamation, the weight of the situation settling in. Dumbledore wore a grave expression, and Harry could see the concern in his eyes. The prospect of facing a formal trial in the Wizengamot, especially for a series of events he had little control over, was daunting.

Dumbledore spoke first, his voice calm but troubled. "Harry, we will do everything in our power to ensure a fair trial and to prove your innocence. We have already made strides in uncovering the truth about the events in the graveyard, and we will continue to investigate."

Harry nodded, appreciating the reassurance. He knew that Dumbledore would stand by him, but the gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in.

Madam Bones returned to the room through the Floo Network, her stern expression unchanged. "I will be in touch with the details of your trial, Mr. Potter. Until then, it is imperative that you remain at Hogwarts, where you will be safe from outside influences."

Harry nodded again, his mind racing with thoughts of how to prepare for the trial. He had no doubt that the Wizengamot would be divided, with some members eager to see him punished and others willing to listen to reason. It was a situation he had never expected to find himself in, and the stakes were higher than ever.

Madam Bones turned to Dumbledore. "Chief Warlock, I trust you will ensure that Mr. Potter is well-prepared for the trial?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Of course, Madam Bones. Harry's defense will be our utmost priority."

With that, Madam Bones nodded once more and took her leave, disappearing into the Floo Network.

Harry and Dumbledore were left alone in the room, and the weight of the impending trial hung heavily in the air. Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, we will face this trial together, and I will do everything I can to protect you. You are not alone in this."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied, his voice filled with determination. He knew that the road ahead would be challenging, but he was resolved to fight for his innocence and uncover the truth about the events in the graveyard.

As Harry left the room with Dumbledore by his side, he couldn't help but wonder what other revelations and challenges awaited him on this unexpected journey.

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