Harry Potter, the Old Unlucky Egg

Madam Pomfrey poured a large mouthful of potion into Draco Malfoy's lips and watched him drift into a deep sleep.

"There, that should be fine. Just a minor injury."

Madam Pomfrey spoke to the professors beside her. Dumbledore nodded, thanked her for her hard work, and signaled the three people behind him to follow him out.

Harry's heart was pounding with extreme anxiety.

He had never expected this incident to draw out the Headmaster.

A simple teaching accident was not enough to make Dumbledore appear here in person—not even if the injured party was a child of the Malfoy Family. Dumbledore was a man of a thousand tasks; his time was so precious that even when he was in the restroom, he was reading books.

It was just that at those times, he was reading tomes on Dark Wizards or White Magic, or perhaps professional literature like "How to Knit Sweaters Quickly" or "The Eighteen Latest Fashionable Knitting Methods," though that was not something outsiders would know.

The reason he was here was simple.

Because of Harry Potter.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape followed behind him. Hagrid, looking somewhat timid, walked at the very back; his level of anxiety exceeded even Harry's.

Dumbledore led the three professors out of the infirmary. Such an imposing lineup made Harry, who was waiting at the door, even more terrified. He felt a knot in his stomach and a wave of nausea.

He wanted to say something, but Dumbledore interrupted him lightly: "Don't be anxious, Harry. Come with me."

He led the two Heads of House, one professor, and one star student to the Headmaster's Office, then turned around.

No one spoke.

The atmosphere was incredibly stifling. Harry swallowed hard, wanting to speak again, but he heard a loud sound, like someone blowing their nose.

He turned his head and saw Hagrid beginning to weep.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster, I have failed your expectations."

Hagrid's wailing was very loud, loud enough to be somewhat frightening.

Snape frowned, wishing he could cast a spell on this half-giant to silence him.

Professor McGonagall offered Hagrid some comfort.

Dumbledore's prepared words were interrupted by Hagrid, but he was not angry. He comforted Hagrid again in a gentle voice, then asked if Hagrid could bring him some Rock Cakes.

Clearly, those biscuits were not actually called Rock Cakes, but Hagrid did not dispute the matter. He sobbed as he walked out, leaving the four of them behind.

Before he left, Dumbledore seemed to remember something and shouted loudly: "Don't drink to excess, Professor Hagrid, you are a professor now."

Hagrid let out a massive sound in response, though it sounded just like blowing his nose again.

After sending Hagrid off, Dumbledore let out a long sigh.

A sense of relief.

He stood before them. Harry took the opportunity to scan the faces of those present. Professor McGonagall was expressionless, making her mood impossible to read. Dumbledore wore a warm expression, seemingly not feeling that he was dealing with a major event. Only Professor Snape, who noticed Harry's gaze, flashed him a mean and sinister smile.

Harry lowered his head again.

His heart was in his throat.

"A truly fine day, very suitable for holding classes outside," Dumbledore said. His tone was very relaxed, and he didn't seem to have any intention of blaming anyone. He glanced at Harry, then at Snape, and said, "Severus, you speak."

"He injured three Slytherin students: Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe. He brandished his wand against his own classmates, Headmaster. At Hogwarts, private dueling is forbidden. He has violated school rules," Snape said stiffly.

Speaking of this, Snape's expression was quite unpleasant. It was unclear whether it was because Harry had injured those three, or because those three were no match for Harry Potter.

This was three people!

Three against one and they were still beaten to the ground; Snape was ashamed of them.

Where was the glory of Slytherin?

Dumbledore sat on the edge of his desk, looking very relaxed. He didn't think this was a big deal either. From the time Dumbledore himself was a student, through his time teaching at Hogwarts, and up to his tenure as Headmaster, the skirmishes between these little ones had never ceased.

Even he had dueled at school.

Snape and McGonagall were the same.

Young wizards, after all; a bit of fighting was harmless.

Professor McGonagall was expressionless, but her protective instinct was obvious. She acted first, stating that she would impose a punishment on Harry Potter: fifty points from Gryffindor, a night in the Forbidden Forest, and an apology to the three Slytherin students.

Snape did not interrupt.

He held respect for Professor McGonagall.

Besides, Professor McGonagall's punishment exceeded his own expectations.

He hadn't intended to punish him that severely.

When he was in school, he had dueled with his wand plenty of times. Aside from the detestable little clique of Harry Potter's father, Snape had won more often than he had lost against everyone else.

Professor McGonagall's punishment was much harsher than what he had wanted.

He had been on the verge of docking Gryffindor fifty points.

However, since she had already spoken, Snape saw no need to object. It was high time this brat was taught a lesson!

Hearing this, Dumbledore hammered the final nail into the coffin.

"Very well, Professor Snape, what do you think of Professor McGonagall's suggestion?"

Snape nodded. Dumbledore signaled for him to leave Harry alone for a moment. As Snape turned to go, he cast a glance at Harry Potter, his gaze lingering briefly on the boy's eyes before quickly pulling away.

Only two people remained in the Headmaster's Office.

Harry Potter and Dumbledore.

Watching Dumbledore approach, Harry Potter apologized repeatedly: "I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't mean for this to happen..."

Dumbledore cut Harry off.

"It is quite alright, Harry, this is not a major matter.

I did not call you here because of this incident. Harry, from the perspective of a duel, you did very well, but from the perspective of a headmaster, well, it was acceptable."

Dumbledore said. This sudden shift in attitude made Harry's eyes widen. He did not understand what was happening; after all, Hogwarts' school history contained no detailed accounts of student brawls, and even if it did, Harry wouldn't have read them.

Harry didn't read extracurricular books.

Perhaps Hermione would know if asked.

Dumbledore had not called Harry here to hold him accountable for knocking down three people, nor to encourage him for defeating three students.

The Headmaster was indifferent to such things. He produced several toffees, handed a few to Harry, and gestured for him to relax.

Dumbledore remained clear-headed—at least where Harry was concerned, he was perfectly clear.

Dueling skills were only useful against those Death Eaters.

But if Dumbledore was not mistaken, Tom Riddle would never order his Death Eaters to kill Harry Potter.

He would want to eliminate Harry with his own hands.

Because of Tom Riddle's pride.

Tom's character was flawed, and these flaws manifested in every aspect: arrogance, conceit, and a refusal to leave himself an exit.

Likewise, he needed to finish off Harry Potter personally to maintain his prestige and break the prophecy.

Many Death Eaters followed him because he was invincible, because of his powerful magic!

He could not be defeated by a young wizard twice.

Failing against the same young wizard twice would be a fatal blow to his authority!

He could afford not to beat Dumbledore—after all, Dumbledore was one of the greatest wizards of the age, and failing to kill him was no disgrace—but he could not fail to kill a young wizard. If he couldn't kill a young wizard, it wouldn't just be a disgrace; people would begin to suspect that the Dark Lord was on the verge of failure, that the prophecy was taking effect, and that his end was near.

Therefore, what Dumbledore needed to cultivate in Harry was courage, not dueling techniques.

From the events of the first and second years, Dumbledore could see that Harry was no genius; he was merely a courageous Gryffindor, nothing more.

There wasn't much time left for growth. Even given a few years, this child would not reach the level of his father, James Potter.

Let alone the magical attainments of the current Professor McGonagall, Flitwick, or Snape.

Learning combat techniques was meaningless.

James Potter could not block Tom Riddle's Avada Kedavra, nor could Snape. Even if Professor McGonagall were to encounter Tom Riddle alone, the result would be no different. Voldemort only used one move to kill: Avada Kedavra.

It was not that he didn't know other magic.

On the contrary, he had created many Dark Arts, but his enemies were not worthy of him using such varied methods.

Only when a contemporary master of magic of Dumbledore's caliber faced him would he resort to other spells. After all, he was also a master potioneer, a master of charms, a master of transfiguration, and a master of Legilimency in his own right...

He was the acknowledged, most powerful Dark Lord of the age.

His fame was paved with corpses and blood.

In his investigations over these days, Dumbledore had become increasingly certain that if Tom were still alive, his former student's attainments in the dark magic of immortality far surpassed his own.

Tom Riddle had broken new ground in the study of the Dark Arts.

Dumbledore knew that while he might surpass his student in other areas, his student had surpassed him in the dark magic of immortality. This meant that if Harry did not surpass this era in other forms of magic, no amount of dueling skill would be of any use to him.

He could not beat Voldemort.

No amount of dueling technique could bridge the vast chasm between their strengths.

Dumbledore reached out to signal Harry to come closer. Harry felt Dumbledore staring intently at the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

Suddenly, Harry felt a sharp pain in his scar!

A burning sensation, as if scorched by fire, pierced deep into his marrow!

Harry gritted his teeth, but the agony still made his vision go dark.

"Professor..."

He couldn't help but say. He saw Dumbledore approaching, and then, his vision blacked out. A surge of intense, abrupt pain triggered Harry's self-protection mechanism.

He fainted.

The last thing he saw was the Headmaster waving his wand, though he had no idea what he was doing.

By the time he woke up again, it was already dark.

He was still in the Headmaster's Office, and before him, Dumbledore sat behind his desk reading a book, while he himself was floating in mid-air.

"Professor."

Harry spoke, and noticing he had awakened, Dumbledore offered a smile.

"Did you sleep well, Harry?"

He asked, and as Harry nodded, Dumbledore didn't even wave his wand; Harry simply drifted down to the floor with a gentle touch.

The Headmaster was seeing him out.

"Go and have some dinner, Harry. Your good friends, Hermione and Ron, have been pacing outside for quite a while; they are very concerned about you. They've been waiting out there all afternoon," Dumbledore said. Harry, unaware of what had transpired, walked out to find Ron and Hermione sitting in the corridor; they didn't know the password and couldn't get into the Headmaster's Office at all.

Seeing Harry emerge, the two were overjoyed!

"It's so good that you're alright."

Hermione rushed forward and gave Harry a hug, while Ron stood to the side, grinning foolishly. After a while, Ron, Harry, and Hermione walked out of the corridor, Ron so excited he couldn't find the words, chattering incessantly.

"That was amazing, Harry, you were absolutely brilliant!"

He mimicked Harry waving his wand and said with admiration, "You have no idea what happened afterward. That whole group of Slytherins was terrified; they were all saying that you..."

Ron used his hands and feet to act out what happened after Harry left, describing it vividly. Looking at his good friend, Harry's mood finally improved a little.

Hermione couldn't get a word in, and it wasn't until a long while later that she asked Harry how Dumbledore had punished him.

At the mention of this, Harry's expression shifted again, devoid of any joy.

"I have to go to the Forbidden Forest for punishment again this time, though at least Hagrid will be there," Harry said, and the other two fell silent.

Going to the Forbidden Forest?

That was far too severe.