A storm swept across all of Great Britain.
Fierce winds drove the raindrops hard against the windows.
Lucius Malfoy stood at the study window in his manor, holding a glass of Firewhisky.
The torrential rain outside shrouded the entire manor in a gray haze of water.
The roses in the garden were battered this way and that by the wind and rain, and the branches of several old oaks thrashed violently in the wind.
He had just finished dealing with a pile of tedious family affairs and was preparing to enjoy a quiet evening.
Just then, a soft knock came at the study door.
"Master."
A high-pitched voice came through the crack in the door.
Lucius frowned. "What is it?"
The door opened a crack, and a house-elf poked his head inside.
His ears drooped, and he held a book in his hands, looking somewhat flustered.
"M-Master, Dobby found this in the garden."
"A book?" Lucius set down his glass. "What book?"
"Dobby doesn't know either, Master. It fell from the sky and nearly hit Dobby on the head."
Lucius reached out and took the book.
When he saw the image on the cover clearly, his movements instinctively paused.
On the cover, a little boy wearing round glasses stood before a steam train, with a brilliant starry sky overhead.
There was a lightning-shaped scar on the boy's forehead.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (complete edition).
Lucius's expression became peculiar.
Of course he had heard of this book. The entire Wizarding World was talking about it, even though the Ministry of Magic had already issued a ban.
He had originally planned to find a way to obtain a copy once things died down, but he had never expected it to arrive on his doorstep.
"You may go." He waved a hand.
The house-elf bowed and left the room.
Lucius sat down at his desk and opened the book.
He first skimmed the first half, whose contents he had already read in the first volume, then turned to chapter nine, the beginning of the second half.
Chapter 9: The midnight duel
Lucius read on slowly. When he reached the part where Malfoy stood Harry and Ron up for their midnight duel, the corners of his mouth involuntarily curved into a smile.
Draco had a little cunning, at least.
Although this approach lacked some of the grace expected of pure-blood families, he had to admit it worked well.
Draco had successfully made a fool of Potter, leaving Scarhead waiting like an idiot in an empty classroom at midnight for ages.
And according to the book's description, nobody except Harry and his two friends knew Malfoy was behind it.
Potter had foolishly gone along and truly been made a fool of.
And Draco had paid almost no price.
Lucius nodded in satisfaction, raised his glass, and took a sip.
Then, as though something had occurred to him, his smile suddenly froze.
Wait.
If this book circulated throughout the Wizarding World...
Wouldn't everyone know Draco had done this?
Lucius snapped the book shut, his expression turning ugly.
He imagined what his peers from the pure-blood families would think when they read this passage.
The Malfoy family's heir had actually used such a childish trick to play a prank on a boy who had always lived in the Muggle world?
He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
It didn't matter. The Ministry of Magic had banned this book anyway.
Surely no one would read it...
He lowered his head and looked at the book in his hands.
All right, he had already read it. Other people might read it too.
Lucius hesitated, then opened the book again.
He had already read this much. He might as well finish it first.
Inside the Leaky Cauldron, the fire blazed in the hearth.
The thick walls blocked out most of the wind and rain outside, leaving only a faint howling.
The scent of Butterbeer and Firewhisky filled the pub, and several old wizards sat in a corner, talking quietly.
Tom sat behind the bar, holding a brand-new copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (complete edition).
A Muggle had dropped the book outside the pub. A gust of wind had probably blown it out of his hands as he passed, without him even noticing.
The pattering rain outside mingled with the wind, sounding particularly soothing.
Tom took a sip of Butterbeer and turned to chapter nine.
He had already read the first half and was very familiar with the earlier contents. Now he could hardly wait to see what the second half contained.
He drank his Butterbeer as he turned the pages.
When he reached the part where Harry, Ron, and Hermione worked together to fight the troll, he could not help clicking his tongue.
Harry had actually hung onto the troll and stuck his wand up its nostril.
"Good heavens! No wonder he's the Chosen One. So brave!" he murmured in astonishment.
Then Harry was hanging onto the troll while Hermione lay collapsed on the floor, and the situation suddenly grew tense.
Tom could not help becoming engrossed. What would Harry do next?
["Wingardium Leviosa!"]
It was Ron! At the critical moment, he had finally managed to cast the Levitation Charm, delivering a heavy blow to the troll's head and knocking him straight to the ground.
"The Levitation Charm," Tom murmured admiringly. "Good lad!"
A first-year student had knocked down a troll with the Levitation Charm?
Tom set down his glass and slapped the table. "Just what you'd expect from the Chosen One's friend!"
Several old wizards nearby, who were also reading in the pub, looked up.
"What is it, Tom?"
Tom raised the book in his hand and waved its cover at them.
"Harry Potter's friend took down a troll with the Levitation Charm!" Tom said excitedly. "A first-year!"
"Really?"
"See for yourselves!" Tom held up the book for them to look at.
The old wizards gathered around, clicking their tongues in wonder.
"Merlin's beard, this lad really has talent."
"I couldn't even cast the Levitation Charm in my first year."
"No wonder he's friends with the Chosen One."
"He's a child of the Weasley family. I've heard of his father..."
A chorus of agreement rose in the pub.
These wizards had all come to the Leaky Cauldron to drink and read after picking up copies of the book.
Although the Ministry of Magic had said it would confiscate them, no one had come to collect them yet, so they would finish reading first.
At the Burrow, the smell of stew filled the kitchen.
Molly Weasley had spent the entire day busy at the stove.
Since morning, she had been cleaning and tidying the rooms. None of the children were home, leaving her bustling about on her own.
The rain outside had been growing heavier since the afternoon.
She had meant to pick some fresh vegetables from the vegetable patch, but the downpour had driven her back as soon as she reached the door.
"Honestly, how can the weather change just like that?" she muttered, brushing droplets off her skirt.
Just as she turned to go back inside, she noticed something glinting in the rain beside the vegetable patch.
Curious, she walked over and discovered a book.
One corner of the book had been soaked by the rain, but the image on its cover was still clearly visible.
A little boy wearing round glasses, with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
Molly paused, then bent down and picked up the book. Arthur had brought home a copy of the first half a few days earlier, but this was the complete edition.
She took the book inside, wiped the water from its surface with a towel, then placed it beside the fireplace to dry.
By the time she had finished all the housework, the rain outside had grown even heavier.
She made herself a cup of hot tea, sat down in the rocking chair before the fireplace, and opened the book.
She quickly turned to chapter nine and began reading.
At first, she read out of curiosity, but when she reached the part where Ron and the others faced the troll, she could not help growing anxious.
When she saw Ron defeat the troll with the Levitation Charm, she finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"But Halloween hasn't arrived yet. This book must be fiction..." Molly speculated in puzzlement.
She read on, and when she reached the passage describing Harry seeing his family in the Mirror of Erised, her eyes suddenly reddened.
[She was a very beautiful woman with dark red hair. Her eyes-her eyes are exactly like mine, Harry thought.]
[Then he noticed that the woman was crying. She was smiling and crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing beside her put his arm around her.]
[The man wore glasses, and his hair was untidy, with a tuft at the back sticking up stubbornly, just like Harry's.]
[Harry was very, very close to the mirror now, his nose almost touching his reflection's.]
["Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"]
Molly set down the book and wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Oh, poor child..." She dabbed at her eyes with her apron. "He lost his parents when he was only one, and now he can only see them in a mirror..."
She thought of her own children. Although the Weasley family was not wealthy, at least all her children had grown up by her side, with a complete family.
Yet Harry Potter, the boy who had defeated You-Know-Who, had spent eleven years in his Muggle relatives' cupboard.
He had not even had the chance to meet his own parents.
Molly took a deep breath and continued reading, reaching what Ron saw in the mirror.
Ron saw himself becoming Head Boy and Quidditch captain, holding up the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor.
Molly paused, then smiled softly.
In her mind, Ron was still the little boy who followed her around asking for snacks.
She had never imagined that he, too, had honors he longed for and goals of his own.
Molly sighed softly, running her fingers over the letters of Ron's name on the page.
"I'll always be proud of you, you know?" she whispered, as though Ron were right in front of her.
In the office of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, the atmosphere was unusually tense.
Hunt sat at his desk, holding a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (complete edition).
His eyes were fixed on the pages, and his breathing had grown a little strained.
Beside him, Brown and Lillian each held a copy, their expressions equally focused.
They had reached the final part.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had passed the huge three-headed dog and made it through the Devil's Snare.
Harry had used his agility as a Seeker to catch the flying key, Ron had "sacrificed" himself on the enormous chessboard, and Hermione had left Harry the chance to drink the potion.
Now Harry was heading toward the final room alone.
Hunt hardly dared breathe.
His palms were slick with sweat, and his heart pounded in his chest.
"Who's really behind all this?" he murmured.
"It has to be Snape," Brown declared. "I thought he was bad news from the very beginning."
"Not necessarily." Lillian shook her head. "Since Dumbledore let him stay at Hogwarts to teach, he must trust him a great deal."
"Maybe he fooled Dumbledore too?" Brown countered.
"Stop arguing and keep reading," Hunt interrupted them.
The three returned their attention to the pages.
Harry pushed open the last door and entered the room.
He saw someone standing before the Mirror of Erised.
The person turned around-
It was Professor Quirrell.
Harry was clearly taken aback.
["But I thought-Snape-"]
Quirrell burst out laughing.
["With him (Snape) around, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-st-stammering P-Professor Quirrell?"]
Hunt sharply sucked in a breath.
"Merlin's beard..." he whispered.
He had misjudged Snape.
From beginning to end, he had thought Snape was the villain.
But the real villain was actually that stammering, timid Professor Quirrell!
"H-how is that possible?" Brown was stunned too. "Professor Quirrell? That guy who can't even speak properly?"
"That's what the book says." Lillian's voice was trembling a little too. "He admitted it himself."
Hunt kept reading.
Quirrell told Harry that Snape had actually been protecting him all along.
During the Quidditch match that day, it was Snape who had cast the countercurse that saved Harry's life.
And Quirrell himself had let the troll in to create chaos.
"Why would he do that?" Hunt frowned. "He wants the Philosopher's Stone? But he isn't old. He shouldn't be pursuing a longer life, should he?"
Quirrell said he wanted the Philosopher's Stone so he could present it to his master.
"His master?" Hunt paused, stunned. "Who's his master?"
He turned to the next page.
Quirrell kept talking to himself, as though he were speaking to someone.
Hunt frowned, feeling that something was wrong.
Could this Quirrell have something wrong with his mind?
Harry looked into the Mirror of Erised, and a Philosopher's Stone suddenly appeared in his pocket.
But a shrill voice alerted Quirrell, and he noticed something was amiss.
Growing more and more nervous, Hunt read on.
Then he saw Quirrell unwrap the scarf around his head.
Then he saw Quirrell slowly turn around.
Hunt's gaze shifted down to the next paragraph.
His pupils abruptly contracted.
[Where the back of Quirrell's head should have been, there was a face. Harry had never seen a face so hideous and terrifying.]
[The face was chalk-white, with glowing red eyes and two narrow slits for nostrils beneath them, making it look like a snake.]
Hunt jerked his head up. He no longer cared at all what the book said. His mind was now completely blank.
Lightning suddenly streaked across the sky outside the window, illuminating his deathly pale face.
"You-Know-Who..." he murmured.