blogombal Chapter 9 Seeker
Chapter 9 Seeker
"It was a strange feeling, Professor. It was more than telepathy; it was as if Voldemort and I had become one in the depths of our souls. I'm not sure if it was all because of touching the diadem, but whatever Voldemort touches is extremely dangerous."
“Originally, I wanted to destroy it directly, but no matter what spell I used, I couldn’t harm it in the slightest. To prevent other students from being bewitched and losing their lives, I brought it to you.”
Harry didn't know what Horcruxes were, but based on Moran's altered memories, he believed that he was lured to the Room of Requirement by Voldemort using the tiara as bait, which nearly led to his demise.
Dumbledore's expression was very serious. He gently stroked the crown, his eyes fixed intently on Harry, whether trying to glean clues from Harry's mind or lost in deep memories, it was unclear. A short while later, the old man reverted to his kind and composed demeanor, just as he had when he had met Harry before.
"Harry, you've been studying at Hogwarts for a week now. How are you settling in? I've heard that several professors have spoken highly of you."
"professor!"
Dumbledore raised his hand, interrupting Harry.
“I know what you’re trying to say, and I don’t mean to say I don’t care about this or about you; on the contrary, I think you’ve made a very wise decision.”
“But Harry, you are only an eleven-year-old boy, a student who has just arrived at Hogwarts. You don’t need to shoulder the responsibility of defeating Voldemort alone just because of empty titles like ‘the boy who lived’ and ‘the savior’.”
"Go to class, play Quidditch, and share happiness with your friends—that's what you should be doing."
Harry wanted to say something more, but when he faced Dumbledore, he always had the feeling that the other already knew. Since saying anything would be pointless, he might as well keep quiet.
"But... wait!"
Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, his expression like that of a child who didn't want to share his candy with others.
"Given your talent and personality, you'll definitely continue your investigation, so sooner or later you'll come across some specific knowledge and unconventional magic..."
“If it’s not too much of a hassle for you, you can come to the principal’s office to see me every Saturday afternoon and evening starting next week. I’ll have Hedwig send you the new passwords for each week in advance, so you won’t have to go through the trouble of seeing Professor McGonagall.”
Harry's mood was like a rollercoaster ride. One second he was depressed, but the next he was refreshed after hearing that Dumbledore had agreed to be his tutor.
Seeing Harry's eager expression, Dumbledore couldn't help but remind him again:
"Next week, starting next week, Harry."
"You should also pay attention in your other classes. I remember you have an outdoor Quidditch flight class next week. Also, if you feel too tired from your studies, or if there are other things causing scheduling conflicts, just write me a note and send it to me."
Harry quickly shook his head and solemnly assured him:
"No, Professor, I will definitely come!"
Dumbledore:
"..."
……
When Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room, it was already noon on Saturday. After quickly settling in, he went to the banquet hall for lunch. Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean immediately surrounded their roommate upon his return. They bombarded him with all sorts of questions; some worried about the punishment he had suffered from Snape's detention, others were curious why he hadn't returned home all night, and what annoyed Harry the most was Neville's attempt to ask him about potion-making.
Harry spent a long time trying to cover it up before finally managing to conceal the fact that he had been taking extra classes from Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore. One of them he didn't want to talk about, and the other he couldn't.
In the afternoon, Harry, along with Ron and Hermione who insisted on studying with him, visited Hagrid at his hut. They talked about Professor Snape keeping Harry after school, and after teasing Mr. Filch and his cat, Harry finally asked the purpose of their visit:
"Hagrid, have you heard about this? A while ago, a dark wizard tried to rob Gringotts. Although he failed, he searched the vault... Do you think this was a coincidence or premeditated?"
Hagrid snorted, and without even glancing at the untouched rock cake still on Harry's plate, handed him another one. He was utterly incapable of lying; even though Harry had given him an out, he wouldn't even utter a simple "it was a coincidence," which only confirmed Harry's suspicion that the contents of the small bag were extraordinary.
After a long silence among the four, Hagrid finally came up with a topic and asked Ron:
"Ron, what did your brother Charlie do after graduation?"
"He is currently researching fire dragons in Romania."
"I knew it! He was really good at animals back in school, and no one got better grades in the 'Protecting Magical Creatures' class than him."
……
As Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets were stuffed full of enough rock cakes to last a week. It was Ron and Hermione's first formal meeting with Hagrid, and out of politeness, they couldn't refuse; and as a friend, Harry, seeing his two friends with cakes, had no choice but to join the cake-carrying team.
When the schedule for first-year flying lessons came out on Sunday, most of the Gryffindor freshmen complained – they were going to have to attend classes with Slytherin students.
Since entering school, they had heard Malfoy boast far too many times about how incredibly good he was at Quidditch. Besides the long, drawn-out stories that always ended with him narrowly escaping a Muggle helicopter, he was always complaining about Hogwarts' decision that first-years weren't eligible for the house Quidditch team. In fact, he wasn't the only one exaggerating; almost every kid from a wizarding family had their own version of it, as if they'd grown up on flying broomsticks. The reason Malfoy was the most disliked was simply because his family was so incredibly wealthy that some of his boasts actually sounded true.
Harry longed to fly; of all things magical, soaring freely on a flying broomstick was his absolute, unadulterated passion. But as the class schedule was released, the atmosphere among his classmates grew increasingly tense, and he began to worry that he might actually be a complete idiot with no talent for flying.
Thursday arrived quickly, and Harry was deeply troubled this week by his inability to communicate with his other self. Whether in his dreams or when he deliberately relinquished control of his body, the consciousness that had been with him for ten years seemed to have never existed, remaining completely silent. Being forced to attend those tedious classes was a minor matter; leaving him alone to face Voldemort and other unknown dangers was a major one. He even began to suspect that the diadem connected to Voldemort had done something to him.
Harry guessed half right.
The story begins six nights earlier. Mo Ran, controlling Harry's body, holds the tiara above his head and pretends to wear it. His intention is to use the reconstructed sequence of memories to make Harry believe that another version of himself has been tempted by the tiara, thus warning him against this relic of the founder, which Voldemort had tampered with. Faced with the unknown, Harry might succumb to temptation, but once "himself" has made a mistake, given Harry's current personality, he certainly won't try anything with the tiara again. Finally, through Mo Ran's explanation to Dumbledore, everything will make sense.
However, Mo Ran, who thought he had made perfect plans, suddenly realized the truth of "Man proposes, God disposes" the moment the crown touched his hair.
The diadem, imbued with a fragment of Voldemort's soul, resonated with the part of Voldemort within Harry. As the two Horcruxes drew near, fragments of the Dark Lord's memories began to surface. From the orphanage to his school days, to Voldemort's journey to Albania to retrieve Ravenclaw's diadem and forge it into a Horcrux—all of Tom Riddle's knowledge, the people he had killed, and the pain he felt when his soul was fragmented—were forcibly crammed into Mo Ran's consciousness in an instant. This wasn't a potentially threatening situation like meeting Dumbledore; this was pure danger. Mo Ran was certain that, as a special Horcrux, Harry's body could directly become the medium for Voldemort to possess her.
"What should we do? Should we release Obscurus?"
"No, the Obscurus is dark magic. If we use something like that to fight the Dark Lord, what if he uses it against us? Wouldn't that be counterproductive?"
After a brief moment of thought, Mo Ran abandoned his plan to use the power of the black mist. He took out his wand, pointed it at his head, and uttered a spell that Harry had not yet learned:
“Crucio!” (Crucio)
The excruciating physical pain forcibly dispelled the fragments of Voldemort's consciousness that were trying to seize control of his body. Mo Ran, lying on the ground, instantly vomited a large amount of vomit. His arms, stomach, thighs, and even neck were convulsing and trembling. Before he could rest for long, a profound weariness washed over him from the depths of his soul.
He must get everything arranged as soon as possible!
Mo Ran pointed his wand at his body and chanted, "Episkey" (heal as before), while finding a scrap of cloth to wrap the crown he had just thrown away. As the pain subsided, he was too weak to stand. Lying on the cold floor, he gritted his teeth, trying his best to piece together a coherent memory, before falling into a deep sleep.
In the following days, Moran and Harry almost completely lost contact. This was not only because he was too weak, but more importantly, because he needed time to absorb the knowledge in Voldemort's memories.
……
Harry, completely unaware that Moran had unexpectedly benefited from the misfortune, became increasingly agitated. Neville, who had obtained the Memory Ball, and Hermione, who kept muttering about "The Amazing Quidditch Team," both made him more and more restless. He desperately needed an outlet for his frustration.
At 3:30 p.m., Harry began his first outdoor flying lesson. Madam Hooch was a decisive and efficient professor, which made Harry feel a little more at ease.
"Alright, everyone, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand next to a flying broom, and hurry up! Extend your right hand, place it directly above the broom, and shout, 'Get up!'"
"stand up!"
Harry's shout wasn't very loud, but it was the most forceful of all the students. At his command, the broom at his feet, like a well-trained soldier obeying its commander's order, leaped into Harry's hands in a flash. There were only two such obedient brooms in the group of twenty-odd freshmen; besides Harry, the other successful student was Malfoy. Noticing this, Ron raised his voice, turning to the broom tumbling across the grass and yelling, "Damn it, get up! Get up!"
A little while later, Mrs. Hooch blew a whistle and told the students who hadn't succeeded to pick up their brooms from the ground. Then she began to demonstrate how to ride a broom without slipping off.
"Remember the movements I taught you. Don't just sit on it; put your body weight on the broom head. When I blow the whistle, push off the ground with both legs and lift yourself off the ground. Remember to push hard! Grip the broom tightly with both hands, rise a few feet, then lean forward and slowly lower yourself back to the ground!"