The Turmoil Caused by the Second Petrification Incident (I)

"On Hogwarts's chessboard, I have placed the first misleading piece." Madara's voice finally carried a trace of fluctuation—not an emotional one, but something deeper and farther away, like the shift in one's gaze when looking down a very, very long road. "Let the Savior and his guardian slowly lose their way in the illusion of the 'pure-blood conspiracy' I have carefully woven for them."

The Magatama in his Sharingan slowly turned, its red light casting dark crimson shadows across the black stone walls, like a pool of blood that was slowly congealing, already cold.

Madara was not looking at Lucius, the runes on the long table, or the green flames in the brazier. He was looking somewhere very, very far away—at the boy lying in a Hospital Wing bed, his left arm wrapped in bandages, his mind stuffed full of the "intelligence" Dobby had given him.

He was looking at Harry Potter.

Not with his eyes. He was looking with those scarlet Sharingan, their Magatama spinning as they watched Harry's fear, his confusion, and the stubborn light in him as he groped his way forward through the darkness—a light that refused to bow its head, both admirable and laughable. Madara had seen that light before.

He had seen it in many people's eyes.

Some of those people had died. Some had knelt. Some had become stones beneath his feet.

And this boy would be one of them too. Not because he was not strong enough, but because he was too ready to believe. He believed in friends, in teachers, in a House-Elf dressed in a tattered pillowcase and covered in wounds.

He believed that "freedom" was worth trading one's life for.

The corner of Madara's mouth lifted again. This time, the curve was slightly wider than before.

"Dobby." He softly