Facing Dumbledore

"Finite Incantatem."

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

The wand in his hand pointed at the Fiendfyre rushing towards him—the flames paused briefly, as if frozen, then rewound as if time itself was reversing, returning along the original path.

The flames backfired, leaving scorch marks on the ground, and the railway tracks vanished.

The sound of "Finite Incantatem" echoed along this trajectory through the underground passage.

Just as Harry was about to be flung to the apex and smashed down hard, Dumbledore's voice finally reached them.

"Finite Incantatem."

Along with the voice came not only the backfired Fiendfyre that had vanished but also a powerful torrent of magic.

The spell exploded in an instant before the door of Vault 713, the shockwave sweeping over everything, directly dispelling the curse on Hagrid.

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

"Ahhhh—"

Harry, regaining consciousness, instinctively cried out as he looked at the ground rapidly expanding before his eyes.

At this moment, it seemed as if all was lost, but a clear, firm voice rang out.

"Harry Potter, Accio."

It was Quirrell, no, more precisely, it was Voldemort.

The moment the torrent of magic exploded, Quirrell broke free from the curse and, in a panic, relinquished control of his body—he had no idea what was happening to him, only hoping his master could turn the tide.

Voldemort, who had taken control of the body, slightly altered the spell using the wand Quirrell had just swung.

The spell, which should have been "Accio Philosopher's Stone," was changed by him to "Accio Harry Potter."

Thus, Harry Potter, who was about to fall to the ground, was pulled sideways by the Accio spell, and Hagrid let go at the critical moment.

Harry Potter flew sideways, and as he did, a cloaked figure attempted to use magic to end his life, but a red light flashed:

First, a fiery red phoenix appeared, followed by Dumbledore's figure.

"Retreat."

The leader of the cloaked figures gave the order without hesitation and, leading his followers, they melted into the darkness and retreated rapidly.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

Voldemort used the Levitation Charm to steady Harry's body just as he was about to collide with him.

"Armor Charm."

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

"What happened here?"

Dumbledore held his wand, his gaze briefly resting on Hagrid and Voldemort, before finally looking at the figures who had disappeared into the darkness.

"Beep~ Beep~~ Beep~~~"

A whistle was blown; it was Griphook, who had woken up, summoning the guards.

"Someone suddenly attacked us," Hagrid said, breathing heavily and still shaken. "They used dark curses and Fiendfyre."

Voldemort also got up, feigning vigilance, and emerged from behind the stalagmite, holding his wand.

"Thanks to Quirrell, he saved Harry twice."

Hagrid wiped tears from his eyes and went to Harry's side to check if he was injured.

"Oh, Harry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I was controlled by a dark curse. Thank goodness for Quirrell, who stopped me from making a terrible mistake."

Quirrell nodded at him but maintained a vigilant demeanor—in fact, he was somewhat nervous around Dumbledore.

"They..."

Dumbledore's deep gaze swept over Quirrell, then looked at Hagrid. "How did they know about this place?"

"Sorry, Headmaster," Hagrid said with red eyes. "On Quirrell's celebration day, I misspoke. Many people heard the secret. I tried to find you, but you weren't there."

"You should have sent an owl to remind me," Dumbledore said, stepping forward and using magic to stop Hagrid's bleeding—there was a gaping wound on his back, bleeding profusely.

"Yes, I should have."

Hagrid hesitated for a moment, but ultimately did not mention Quirrell, silently taking all the blame. "But I thought it wouldn't be a big problem, so I asked Quirrell for help. He's trustworthy."

"Of course."

Dumbledore's gaze towards Quirrell became much clearer.

"There were ten of them," Voldemort finally spoke. "But I don't know if there were more. Headmaster, should we pursue them?"

As he spoke, many Goblins had already appeared. One of them was questioning Griphook about what had happened, while the others scattered to pursue the cloaked figures.

"No need."

Before Dumbledore could speak, the Goblin who seemed to be the leader refused, "Goblins will solve their own problems. No one can run wild here."

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

"Where is it?" Dumbledore asked.

"With me," Hagrid patted his coat pocket, the fabric still exposed.

"It seems they don't need our help."

After Dumbledore finished speaking, he looked at Harry Potter, "Are you alright? Can you continue the journey?"

"Oh... ah, of course, I... I can," Harry said somewhat awkwardly, still recovering from the shock.

"Quirrell."

Dumbledore looked at Voldemort, the probing in his eyes gone. "I need to take Hagrid back for treatment. Can you take over Hagrid's task?"

Voldemort naturally understood his meaning, but felt rather strange – entrusting Harry Potter to him, was that really a good idea?

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

"Alright, let's leave here first."

The Headmaster said, reaching out to grab Hagrid. Quirrell, Voldemort, grabbed Hagrid's other arm. Harry stood frozen, somewhat bewildered.

"Hold onto Hagrid. I need to hold my wand and stay alert," Voldemort said to Harry.

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

"Bang."

At the entrance of Gringotts, the four appeared out of thin air.

"Harry is in your care."

Dumbledore said to Voldemort, with a hint of entrustment.

"I've chosen a birthday gift for Harry at Eeylops Owl Emporium."

Before Voldemort could speak, Hagrid cut in. He looked at Harry with his large, moist eyes, his gaze flickering with self-reproach.

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

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

Voldemort watched from the side, feeling a certain approval for the little fellow. Harry didn't lack courage and could distinguish right from wrong, which was no easy feat for an eleven-year-old child.

"Oh, Harry, you're wonderful."

Hagrid bent down and hugged Harry, disregarding the onlookers. Then he looked at Voldemort, "Could you help me give him the gift? The shopkeeper will know which one it is."

"No problem," Voldemort nodded.

"Take good care of him," Hagrid added.

"I know. You go recover from your injuries with peace of mind. No one will harm him," Voldemort assured him.

Dumbledore watched from the side, avoiding Harry's gaze. His look towards Voldemort, however, grew clearer.

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

"Understood, Headmaster," Voldemort nodded, feeling increasingly strange.

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

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

Voldemort thought to himself, a complex mix of emotions swirling within.