In the Headmaster's Office, the atmosphere was somewhat delicate. Professor Quirrell—or rather, his body—was tightly bound by the Sekern Red Belt, lying in the corner like a mummy. Voldemort's face on the back of his head had completely lost its luster and was barely clinging to life. Fawkes tilted his head curiously from his perch.
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his hands folded atop it, calmly watching Silas standing before him. At that moment, Silas's light brown hair had turned as vividly red as a heated branding iron after he used the Sekern Red Belt, a relatively powerful form of Vishanti Magic. It made him look somewhat fiercer and... conspicuous.
(Silas's hair turning branding-iron red whenever he used powerful offensive Vishanti Magic was my own setting; Marvel did not have this.)
After a moment of silence, Silas spoke first. He pointed at the unconscious Quirrell in the corner, then looked at Dumbledore.
"Professor, I know what you want to ask. It's about... training Harry Potter, right?"
Dumbledore nodded slightly, a trace of understanding and inquiry flashing through his blue eyes. "Yes. I originally had certain... arrangements. But it seems the situation has changed now." His gaze swept over Silas's striking red hair before returning to his face. "You seem to know quite a lot, Silas."
Silas shrugged and casually proposed an alternative. "Isn't it simple? Just have Professor Snape act as Harry's imaginary enemy. All you need to do is guide Harry a little, make him firmly believe that Professor Snape wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone, targets him at every turn, and wants to harm him. With Professor Snape's... well... distinctive style, plus the old grudge between him and Harry's father, Harry will definitely believe it completely. He'll do everything he can to stop him and become stronger. Wouldn't that work just as well as facing that half-dead guy on the back of Quirrell's head?"
Listening to this simple, direct, and even somewhat crude plan, Dumbledore wore a thoughtful expression. He had to admit that although Silas's suggestion disrupted his original, more intricate plan—one that placed greater emphasis on guiding Harry through "love and courage"—with Voldemort eliminated ahead of schedule, this truly was an effective method of swiftly drawing out Harry's potential and helping him mature quickly. And Severus... was indeed the best choice. He could create enough pressure and hostility while secretly ensuring Harry's safety.
"That could work," Dumbledore said softly, acknowledging the proposal. But then he asked the crucial question, his gaze sharpening. "However, Silas, how did you know about the Philosopher's Stone? And how did you know that, in my original plan, Quirrell and Voldemort were trials Harry needed to face?"
This question struck at the heart of the matter, concerning Silas's greatest secret.
Faced with Dumbledore's gaze, which seemed able to see through people's hearts, Silas did not panic. Instead, he gave a slightly roguish smile, pointing first to his own head and then toward the office door.
"Professor, surely you don't think there's anywhere in Hogwarts I haven't wandered through? I went to check out that three-headed dog in the fourth-floor restricted corridor not long after term started. I'm not blind—I saw the trapdoor under Fluffy's butt."
His answer avoided the important details, attributing everything to his "curiosity" and "spirit of exploration." He implied that he had learned of the Philosopher's Stone and its safeguards through his own observations and "illegal" investigation, then inferred part of Dumbledore's intentions from that.
Dumbledore looked deeply at Silas but did not press further. He knew the boy carried too many secrets, and forcing the issue might not yield the truth. He chose to accept this explanation for the moment. After all, everything Silas had done so far, though startling in method, seemed to have benefited Hogwarts.
"I understand." Dumbledore finally nodded. "Then I will arrange the handling of Professor Quirrell and... 'that one' attached to him, as well as Harry's future guidance. As for you, Silas..."
His gaze fell upon Silas's still-vivid red hair. "Your power is strong, and unique. I hope you will use it well."
"Don't worry, Professor." Silas patted his chest. "I've always stood with reason over kin... uh, I mean, I help good people, not bad ones!" He spoke beautifully enough, but inwardly he thought, As long as nobody provokes me, I can't be bothered sticking my nose into other people's business.
This conversation, which concerned the direction of Harry's fate, reached an understanding through a peculiar tacit agreement. Silas had forcibly rewritten the script with his unexpected methods and power, while Dumbledore, a master chess player, began adjusting his strategy and incorporating Silas—the greatest "variable"—into a new game.
Dumbledore looked at Quirrell, tightly wrapped in red belts in the corner and barely alive, as well as Voldemort's remnant soul on the back of his head, whose presence was now almost imperceptible. He sighed softly, his tone carrying a hint of unsurprised helplessness.
"Voldemort's remnant soul... has already fled. Before Quirrell's body completely collapsed, he abandoned this vessel and escaped by some method unknown to us."
Silas wore an expression that plainly said, "Wasn't that obvious?" He shrugged. "Of course he ran. What else was he supposed to do, wait for me to beat him to death or for you to capture him for research? He's not stupid."
Dumbledore nodded, seemingly agreeing with that simple logic. Then he changed the subject and pointed at Quirrell. "As for Professor Quirrell himself... he has committed grave crimes: bringing the Dark Lord into Hogwarts, attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and endangering the safety of students. Silas, could I trouble you to personally escort him to the Ministry of Magic? Charge him with infiltrating Hogwarts as a dark wizard and attacking students. After all, even I cannot undo your unique red binding magic. It would be safest for you to escort him."
Silas raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore, his face full of disbelief. "Professor, you can't undo it? I don't believe that. You're the greatest White Wizard of this century."
Dumbledore smiled slightly, his expression carrying the crafty look of an elder coaxing a child into running an errand. "Having you visit the Ministry of Magic will also broaden your horizons and familiarize you with the judicial procedures of the wizarding world. Go on, child. This is also doing your part for the school."
When Quirrell, whose mouth was blocked by the red belt, heard "Ministry of Magic" and "Azkaban," he immediately began struggling violently. He let out terrified, muffled whimpers of "Mmph! Mmph!" and his eyes filled with despair. He would rather die here than go to that terrifying prison guarded by Dementors!
Silas glanced at Quirrell and noticed that, due to the beating he had received earlier and the shock of Voldemort's soul leaving his body, his life force was rapidly draining away. He was on the verge of dying.
"Tch, what a hassle." Silas muttered. He did not want to drag a corpse to the Ministry of Magic. Raising a hand, he cast a spell at Quirrell.
A soft, vibrant emerald light poured from his palm, forming a hemispherical dome around Quirrell. Complex life runes flowed across its surface, radiating warmth. This was a third-tier Vishanti Magic spell focused on healing and protection—the Life Barrier.
Nourished by the Life Barrier, Quirrell's ashen complexion visibly regained a hint of color, while his weak breathing became steady and stronger. His injuries remained severe, but at least his life had been preserved.
Dumbledore watched the barrier brimming with life energy, surprise and appreciation flashing through his eyes. "This seems to be an exceptionally advanced restorative spell, one that targets the source of life and injuries to the soul. Is this also a form of your... Vishanti Magic?"
"Yes." Silas nodded, simply acknowledging it. On his skill tree interface, the Life Barrier icon's energy pathways truly had a mysterious connection to the most basic portal. Both involved manipulating the essence of space and energy, though they manifested differently. "This barrier can sustain his basic life functions. It'll let him live a few more years even in a hellhole like Azkaban—long enough to stand trial and serve his sentence."
He did not want Quirrell to die halfway there. Otherwise, this errand would be for nothing.
"All right." Silas clapped his hands. Like he was carrying garbage, he used magic to control the red belt and lifted Quirrell, still encased within the Life Barrier. "Then I'll head to the Ministry of Magic to 'broaden my horizons,' Professor."
With that, he raised a hand and drew a circle. A portal leading to the vicinity of the London Ministry of Magic entrance opened instantly. Dragging Quirrell along as he continued to whimper, Silas stepped through it.
Dumbledore watched Silas and Quirrell disappear into the golden light, then sighed softly, his expression complicated. Silas Kirill was becoming an ever-greater mystery—his power, knowledge, and way of doing things all defied easy understanding. But at least for now, his heart stood on the side of the light. As for Voldemort's escaped remnant soul... they would take it one step at a time.
Before you continue