Facing Dumbledore

"Finite Incantatem."

A tall, thin figure in a purple cloak appeared just in time at the end of the stone corridor.

The wand in his hand pointed at the oncoming Fiendfyre. The flames paused briefly, as if frozen in place, then seemed to reverse time and retreat along their original path.

The flames were turned back, leaving scorch marks on the ground, while the tracks vanished.

The words "Finite Incantatem" echoed along the same path through the underground passage.

Just as Harry was spun to the highest point and was about to be slammed down hard, Dumbledore's voice finally rang out.

"Finite Incantatem."

Along with the voice came not only the Fiendfyre, which had been turned back until it vanished, but also a powerful surge of magic.

The spell exploded in front of the door to Vault 713. The shock wave swept through everything, and the spell on Hagrid was lifted at once.

His vacant eyes suddenly widened in horror as he looked at his falling arm and Harry Potter, who was about to be smashed into the ground.

"Ah~~~"

Coming to, Harry looked at the ground rapidly growing larger before his eyes and cried out instinctively.

It seemed that nothing could be done to change what was happening, but then a clear, resolute voice rang out.

"Harry Potter, Accio."

It was Quirrell—or, more precisely, Voldemort.

The moment the magical surge exploded, Quirrell had broken free of the curse and had frantically yielded control of his body. He had no idea what had happened to him; he only hoped his master could turn the situation around.

Taking control of the body, Voldemort made a small change to the spell, following the wand movement Quirrell had just made.

The spell should have been "Philosopher's Stone, Accio," but he changed it to "Harry Potter, Accio."

So just as Harry Potter was about to hit the ground, the Summoning Charm yanked him sideways into the air. Hagrid let go at the crucial moment, too.

Harry Potter hurtled sideways. One of the black-robed figures tried to use magic to end his life, but a flash of red light streaked over:

A fiery red phoenix appeared first, with Dumbledore's figure beneath it.

"Retreat."

The leader of the black-robed figures gave the order without hesitation, then led the others into the darkness and hurried away.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

Just before Harry collided with him, Voldemort used the Levitation Charm to steady him.

"Armor Charm."

Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry, and an ancient suit of armor, almost solid, appeared around him.

"What happened here?"

Dumbledore held his wand. His gaze paused briefly on Hagrid and Voldemort before settling on the figures disappearing into the darkness.

"Tweet~ Tweet~~ Tweet~~~"

A whistle sounded. Griphook had woken up and was calling for the guards.

"Someone suddenly attacked us." After catching his breath, Hagrid said with lingering fear. "They used a Dark Curse, and they used Fiendfyre, too."

Voldemort got to his feet as well, putting on a wary expression as he emerged from behind a stalactite with his wand in hand.

"Thanks to Quirrell, who saved Harry twice."

Hagrid wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes, went over to Harry, and checked whether he was hurt.

"Oh, Harry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I was under a Dark Curse. Thank goodness for Quirrell—I didn't do something I'd regret."

Quirrell nodded to him, still maintaining a wary expression. In truth, he was somewhat nervous around Dumbledore.

"They..."

Dumbledore's deep gaze passed over Quirrell and turned to Hagrid. "How did they know about this place?"

"I'm sorry, Headmaster."

Hagrid's eyes reddened as he spoke. "On the day we celebrated Quirrell's birthday, I let something slip. A lot of people heard the secret. I went looking for you, but you weren't there."

"You should have sent me an owl to let me know." Dumbledore stepped forward and used magic to stop Hagrid's bleeding. There was a gaping wound on his back, and the blood was flowing freely.

"Yes, I should have."

Hagrid hesitated, but in the end he didn't mention Quirrell. He silently took the blame himself. "But I didn't think it was a big problem, so I asked Quirrell to help me. He's trustworthy."

"Of course."

Dumbledore's gaze on Quirrell had grown much clearer.

"There were ten of them."

Voldemort finally spoke. "But I don't know if there are more, Headmaster. Should we pursue them?"

As he spoke, many Goblins had appeared with a flash. One of them was asking Griphook what had happened, while the others scattered to pursue the black-robed figures.

"No need."

Before Dumbledore could speak, the Goblin who seemed to be in charge refused. "The Goblins will handle this themselves. No one can cause trouble here."

As he spoke, he got up and walked toward the door of Vault 713, preparing to seal it.

"What about the item?" Dumbledore asked.

"I have it." Hagrid patted the pocket of his coat, where the fabric was still hanging loose.

"Looks like they don't need our help."

When Dumbledore finished speaking, he turned to Harry Potter. "Are you all right? Can you manage the rest of the journey?"

"Oh... ah, of course. I... I can." Harry answered awkwardly. He still hadn't recovered from the shock.

"Quirrell."

Dumbledore looked at Voldemort. The probing look in his eyes had disappeared. "I'm taking Hagrid back for treatment. Can you take Hagrid's place and finish his task?"

Voldemort understood what he meant, though he found the situation rather bizarre. Was it really wise to leave Harry Potter in his care?

"No problem, Headmaster," Voldemort replied without hesitation.

"Then let's get out of here first."

As the Headmaster spoke, he reached out and took hold of Hagrid. Quirrell—Voldemort—gripped Hagrid's other arm, while Harry stood rooted to the spot, unsure what was going on.

"Hold on to Hagrid. I need to keep my wand free and stay alert," Voldemort told Harry.

Harry immediately did as he was told. Then the four of them left the chilly underground, led by the phoenix.

"Pop."

The four of them appeared out of thin air outside Gringotts.

"I'll leave Harry in your care."

Dumbledore said to Voldemort, his words carrying a note of concern.

"I picked out a birthday present for Harry. It's at Eeylops Owl Emporium."

Before Voldemort could speak, Hagrid cut in. He looked at Harry with his damp, big eyes, his gaze wavering with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I ruined your birthday. I hope you don't blame me."

"I won't, Hagrid. You're the best person I've ever met," little Harry said sincerely.

Watching from the side, Voldemort found himself rather impressed by the boy. Harry wasn't lacking in courage, and he could tell right from wrong. That was no small thing for an eleven-year-old.

"Oh, Harry, you're wonderful."

Hagrid bent down and hugged Harry, heedless of the people around them. Then he turned to Voldemort. "Could you give him the present for me? The shopkeeper knows which one."

"No problem." Voldemort nodded.

"Take good care of him," Hagrid added.

"I know. Rest easy while you recover. No one will hurt him," Voldemort assured him.

Dumbledore watched from the side. He seemed to avoid Harry's eyes, while his gaze toward Voldemort had grown clearer still.

"Take him to his aunt's house: 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, County Surrey," Dumbledore instructed him.

"All right, Headmaster." Voldemort nodded, though the strangeness of it all only grew.

Afterward, the two Disapparated, leaving Voldemort and Harry staring at each other.

"Should I kill you, or kill you, or kill you?"

Voldemort thought, feeling rather conflicted.