Chapter 66. Wolves in Sheep's Clothing
"I remember she told me, "I hope he looks like his dad," and honestly, she was right to hope for that because she herself wasn't exactly a beauty. And then she said he should be named Tom, after his father, and Marvolo, after her father."
"The boy had quirks. And he was a strange infant too. You know, he hardly ever cried. And as he grew up, he became... completely odd."
"Billy Stubbs' rabbit... Tom, of course, said he didn't do it, and I can't imagine how he could have climbed up to the rafters... but the rabbit didn't hang itself, right?"
Mrs. Cole's words kept replaying in Harry's mind.
"I can move things without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without any training. If someone angers me, I can make something bad happen to them. I can hurt a person if I want to."
The voice of young Tom Riddle and his words intertwined with Mrs. Cole's words to form a cohesive whole. Harry understood that it was Tom who killed that rabbit. He also understood more than that—how Voldemort managed to control trolls, dementors, and other magical creatures that other wizards feared. From a young age, he displayed all the talents that would later form the portrait of the sinister and horrifying Dark Lord, whose name people were afraid to speak. Knowing all these talents of young Tom, Harry was horrified by their potential, which Voldemort had not even shown him at that graveyard. Whatever he was about to face, whatever confrontations with Voldemort awaited him, Harry would never be able to feel completely protected in front of him. The only thing he could surpass Voldemort in was the art of defense.
Every weekend, he went to Dumbledore's office at the appointed time, and each time the headmaster immersed him in the secrets of Voldemort's childhood and youth as he remembered it. Harry noted how handsome Voldemort looked on the surface, but how deceptive his inner nature was. A charming beauty with perfect posture on the outside, he concealed a cruel and ruthless monster within him, who would lure a classmate into a secret cave and do away with him for the sake of creating another Horcrux. Summoning the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets and killing the girl who now became the famous ghost, Moaning Myrtle, meant nothing to him.
Born without love and never having known it, this walking corpse viewed love and friendship as weaknesses, having long departed from everything that gave human form its natural essence. It was even astonishing that he was still human, despite his alienation and explicit hostility towards the world around him. Only his desire for absolute power and control over others, his lack of the most elementary compassion, and the absence of concepts such as friendship and love turned him into a cruel monster and formed in his heart a true branch of the Underworld, which he sought to bring into the world by any means available.
Harry glanced at Dumbledore.
"What will he do now if he suddenly reaches the Grail?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore paused for a moment.
"If I were in your place, Harry, I would seriously consider preventing him from reaching the Grail. Many stand in his way."
"For example, the Ministry of Magic?"
Harry, feeling the penetrating gaze of the professor, vividly imagined Dumbledore momentarily considering all possible options in his mind. His silence was tense, as if an eternity had passed during that second. Finally, Dumbledore spoke:
"Yes, the Ministry of Magic, undoubtedly, is one of the many obstacles that Voldemort must overcome. However, Harry, I do not think that his recent actions mark the end. He has undoubtedly strained his brain and calculated every move in advance to find what he seeks. It is even surprising that the Ministry has managed to resist him with the resources he possesses."
Dumbledore's words hung in the air, causing Harry to contemplate just how insane and dangerous Voldemort's plans could be. He couldn't help but feel puzzled as he looked at the wise face of the professor, and he noticed his own hands nervously folding on his knees.
"The guardians of the Grail!" Dumbledore exclaimed, rising from his desk. His white beard trembled with excitement. "Oh, yes! They are so far above everything that they are impervious to the most powerful magic. They no longer obey the laws of nature! Their power is unfathomable! And Voldemort himself... He simply left and left us in utter delusion, thinking that we had defeated him!"
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, feeling a terrible bewilderment.
"So..." he began, but Dumbledore interrupted him.
"Yes, Harry, Professor Fujimaru is thinking in the right direction. Tom Riddle will definitely return because he knows that the Ministry is his main opponent. He intends to overthrow it, no doubt."
Harry shuddered at these words. But then he said:
"But how will we defeat him, Professor?"
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and a hint of a smile appeared on his face.
"Trust the Servants to fight the Servants, and they will do what they are called to do."
Harry looked down at the floor. During the summer, he had witnessed the immense power of Tesla and had stood face to face with King Arthur himself. Jeanne Alter had shown him through her actions that Voldemort was a simple target for her. But even she realized that after killing him once, she would have to do it again. The Dark Lord, returning from his imaginary non-existence, was ready to come back again if necessary.
"Professor... I am troubled by one thought. You said that the Order of the Phoenix has destroyed several Horcruxes. How many are left?" Harry asked, staring intently at Dumbledore.
"There is only one left, my boy", Dumbledore replied, looking deeply into Harry's eyes. "You noticed his loyal companion, the snake that is always by his side. But do not think that it will be easy to deal with her. Before reaching her, we will have to overcome many obstacles. And Horcruxes, I remind you, are very deadly evil."
Harry pondered, folding his hands on his chest.
"If the Servants are above any magic, can we entrust this task to a Servant?"
"Of course, yes. But Tom is not stupid at all, and probably has already anticipated such a move. Expect his snake to be guarded by a Servant, or maybe even more than one."
Harry lowered his head again.
"Voldemort does not possess any advantages over you, as he is surrounded by ordinary people, all of whom were taught by me. You do not expect any good from them, but many of them have families and can be disappointed in their leader, who once led them."
"Tom is the kind of person for whom victory can become the worst defeat. But if you want to defeat him, you will have to sit down with him at the chessboard."
Dumbledore lowered his gray head, his eyes lit up with a mysterious fire, and the corners of his lips winked at Harry with a conspiratorial look.
"What I mean, my boy, - he said in a low voice, - is that we must prevent Voldemort from achieving his goal - the Grail."
Harry slowly raised his eyes, his gaze filled with confusion and bewilderment.
"Professor ... Jeanne told me that in this war there may be more than two sides. She said she conducted reconnaissance this summer and learned many interesting things. What do you think about this, Professor? Is it possible that this is true?"
The gray-haired professor smiled at Harry with a meaningful smile.
"Oh, Harry, I see you've also noticed how smart and independent Jeanne is. Perhaps there is an additional side to her, and perhaps not. But if such people exist, we will have to be supernaturally quick and ready to assist them. However, don't forget - only one person will be chosen as the winner by the Grail."
Harry stood before the headmaster's desk, his hands trembling, his face showing deep concern. His eyes revealed a mixture of bleak despair and hope.
"I heard that you have developed a close relationship with Mr. Malfoy. I hope your friendship with him won't harm your game tomorrow when you have to compete against his team in Quidditch. Be prepared to spread your wings and show them who the real champion is here."
The gray sky was filled with falling raindrops that splattered against the players' hair, leaving them wet and shiny. The rain poured down in an incessant stream, turning the field into a muddy arena. The Slytherin team swept across the field as one, like a frenzy of unknown birds. Their forms merged with their wet cloaks, and their faces were contorted with tension and thirst for victory. Only the goalkeeper remained in his position, his eyes closely following every movement, ready to deflect any attack.
Malfoy was the embodiment of determination as he darted across the field, tirelessly scanning the space in search of the Snitch. Fire burned in his eyes, pressing down on him with each passing second. Harry, focused and ready for action, competed with Malfoy in this dangerous game. He understood that the fate of not only their glory but also the entire Gryffindor team depended on this moment.
Ron stood by the Gryffindor goal posts, looking pale and exhausted. The previous evening, he even went to sleep in his goalkeeper uniform, unable to close his eyes for a second due to the overwhelming anxiety about the impending game. Noticing his friend's state, Harry ran his hand over Ron's goblet during breakfast and showed Hermione a vial of "Liquid Luck," for which she looked disapprovingly at him and pursed her lips.
Before the start of the match, Harry made the decision to put Dudley on the field as one of the Seekers. He knew that the Slytherins liked to play unfairly and dirty and could not ignore his formidable cousin. Dudley fully lived up to his hopes from the first minutes of the match. Bursting into the Slytherin team's formation, he immediately broke it and caught the Quaffle. They regrouped, but not for long. Now they were divided by a Bludger sent straight into the center of their frenzy by Jeanne.
Only three minutes had passed since the beginning of the match when Dudley reached the Slytherin goal posts and threw the Quaffle into them.
Each member of the Gryffindor team moved separately from the others, and Jeanne soared across the field like a swift golden meteor. She instantly reacted to the Bludgers. As soon as a Bludger crossed the boundary of the Gryffindor half of the field, she was already flying towards it.
The Slytherins closely watched her disapprovingly. Soon they divided and flew after her. Two hunters came from above, and the beaters approached from below. Jeanne abruptly twisted her broom along its handle and kicked her opponents away. The hulking Crabbe flew away from her and snarled. In response, she winked and affectionately stroked her bat, then beckoned to him with a gesture. He didn't dare approach her.
Harry watched with bated breath as the Slytherins attempted to hit Jeanne on the field, and smiled when their plan failed. They attacked the wrong one, he thought satisfiedly. His gaze swept over the spectator stands. In one corner, he saw a pattern of sparkling light in the shape of a lion's head dancing in the air, and not far away... On the teachers' stands, he saw an unfamiliar silhouette. A person in dark clothing sat next to Snape, but Harry couldn't make out any details. He only noticed a smile on the unfamiliar person's face during their conversation. And at that moment, when Harry wanted to get a better look at this person, his view was blocked by the Snitch. Harry immediately instinctively lunged for it. Not noticing anything around him, he raced after the Snitch across the entire field and had already caught it when he heard someone's cry.
Glancing back, Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Still holding the Snitch in his hands, he made a dash and quickly approached the scene of the incident. Malfoy lay there, confused and in pain, his fair hair covered in dirt. His shirt was torn, and blood was flowing from his wounds on his hands and face. He desperately clutched his chest, trying to cope with the sharp pain.
"Malfoy! Scoundrels!" shouted Harry, looking at Crabbe and Goyle, who stood over Malfoy, radiating with pride and mocking. Harry's voice was filled with rage and anger.
Cries and Madame Hooch's whistle echoed. She stopped the match and hurried towards the boys. The other teachers followed her onto the field. The mysterious figure that Harry noticed in the stands next to Snape was no longer there.
"Are you okay, Malfoy?" asked Harry, his voice filled with fear.
Malfoy mumbled something in response.
Harry carefully lifted Malfoy, whose eyes were closed in pain, offered him his shoulder, and felt a shiver run through his body.
"Potter! Take Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing!" Madame Hooch ordered with a worried expression. She hesitated with her instruction for a few seconds.
Slowly, Harry and Malfoy retreated from the muddy field, while cries and the sound of broomsticks echoed behind them.
Ron Weasley, standing at the Gryffindor gate, descended to the ground in shock and froze with his mouth open. He was greatly surprised and frightened by what had happened, and his eyes widened.
"How...?" he exclaimed in astonishment. "Why...?"
"Crabbe! Goyle!" Snape addressed both beaters. "Minus fifty points from Slytherin. I will write letters to your parents today."
For the first time, true anger was evident on Snape's face, and he was terrifying.