A glimmer flashed in Dumbledore's bright blue eyes.
"That is precisely what I am thinking, Hagrid."
He stood up and walked slowly to the window.
The storm outside had eased considerably, but raindrops still pattered against the glass.
"What is written in the book may very well be what will happen in the future."
Dumbledore turned around, bracing both hands on the desk, his gaze calm and deep.
"And whether we go by what the book says or my own deductions, Voldemort is currently at his weakest."
Hagrid's beard trembled slightly. "At his weakest?"
"Yes." Dumbledore nodded. "He is possessing Quirrell, relying on Quirrell's body to sustain his existence."
"If we miss this opportunity and he regains his strength..."
Dumbledore did not finish, but Hagrid already understood what he meant.
"Then what should we do?" Hagrid asked urgently. "Should I go and seize Quirrell?"
"No, Hagrid." Dumbledore shook his head. "Quirrell is merely a vessel. The real threat is Voldemort."
"If we act rashly, he may very well abandon Quirrell's body and escape, just as the book describes."
"Remember, the book says I was there at the time, yet I still failed to stop him from escaping."
A rare trace of self-reproach flashed in Dumbledore's eyes.
"So it would be difficult to stop him from escaping with our strength alone."
"Then what do we do?"
"We need a thorough plan." Dumbledore's voice grew steady and firm. "I need to gather some old friends."
Hagrid blinked. "Old friends?"
"Members of the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore said. "Those who followed me during the first war."
"They are experienced, capable, and absolutely trustworthy."
"With them here, I think even Merlin himself would find it difficult to escape were he alive." Dumbledore gave a playful wink.
Understanding dawned on Hagrid, and he nodded emphatically in agreement with Dumbledore's approach.
"I sincerely ask you, Hagrid, to keep this matter absolutely secret."
Dumbledore looked straight into Hagrid's eyes.
Hagrid nodded vigorously, his broad face full of determination.
"I won't breathe a word of it, Mr. Dumbledore! I can swear on Merlin's beard!"
Dumbledore smiled faintly, his eyes showing satisfaction.
"I trust you, Hagrid."
He stood up, his expression gradually growing grave.
"Time is short. It would be best to gather everyone tonight."
Dumbledore walked toward the fireplace and took a pinch of Floo Powder from a small vase on the mantelpiece.
"So I am going to use Floo Powder now to invite the old members of the Order of the Phoenix."
Hagrid hurried to his feet, and the chair creaked under the strain.
"I'll go too! I'll come with you!"
Dumbledore turned his head, his gaze gentle but brooking no argument.
"No, Hagrid. You stay."
"Stay here and keep an eye on Quirrell." Dumbledore's gaze suddenly sharpened. "He should still be in his office in the castle."
"I need you to make sure he does not leave Hogwarts before we act."
Hagrid puffed out his chest. "Leave it to me, Mr. Dumbledore! I guarantee he won't get away!"
"Very good." Dumbledore nodded. "Oh, and remember to inform Harry. If we are to destroy Voldemort, Harry is essential."
"All right, Mr. Dumbledore." Hagrid hesitated. "What about the Ministry of Magic? Should we inform them?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "There is no need. Too many people would only make the situation too chaotic."
"Besides, I fear it would be difficult to convince the Ministry of Magic that Voldemort is still alive."
Hagrid nodded to show he understood.
"Remember, do not alert him. Just watch him and do not let him out of your sight."
"Understood!"
Dumbledore scattered the Floo Powder into the flames.
The flames in the fireplace instantly turned emerald green and surged upward.
Dumbledore stepped into the flames, and the green fire swallowed his figure.
Hagrid stood where he was, looking at the empty fireplace, and for a moment felt the weight of his responsibility.
He turned and left the Headmaster's Office, preparing to keep watch quietly outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's office.
At the Ministry of Magic, in the office of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.
Hunt, Brown, and Lillian stood before Quildon's desk, lingering fear on all three faces.
Quildon had just finished listening to their report, and his expression was now utterly grim.
"Director," Hunt said, "the first half of the book matches the facts we know perfectly."
"If the second half is accurate too, then You-Know-Who is currently possessing Professor Quirrell at Hogwarts."
Quildon stood up and paced back and forth across the office.
His mind raced.
As director of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, he naturally knew some inside information that ordinary employees did not.
In fact, the Ministry of Magic's senior officials had long since reached a consensus-
The contents of that book were highly accurate.
Experts from the Department of Mysteries had already carried out a detailed analysis of the book.
Their conclusion was that this was by no means an ordinary work of fiction.
Every detail in the book stood up to scrutiny, as though it were truly describing reality.
Someone from the Department of Mysteries had even half-jokingly told him that the book was no different from a documentary in the Muggle world.
If that really was the case...
Even if the second half described future events, those events might very well actually happen.
Quildon stopped pacing, his expression turning exceedingly grave.
"You have done very well," he told Hunt and the other two. "This information is extremely important."
"For now, go back and continue your work as usual. Remember, do not tell anyone about this yet."
Hunt nodded. "Understood, Director."
The three turned and left the office.
Once the door closed, Quildon took a deep breath, picked up the book they had just placed on his desk, and strode out of the office.
He had to see Minister Fudge immediately.
When the knock came at the door of the Minister's Office, Fudge was reviewing a new regulation on the management of magical creatures.
"Come in," he said without looking up.
Quildon pushed the door open and entered, clutching the book tightly in his hand.
"Minister, I have an urgent situation to report."
Fudge looked up and could not help frowning at the expression on Quildon's face.
"What is so urgent?"
"That book." Quildon placed it on Fudge's desk. "Its second half says that You-Know-Who... has appeared."
Fudge abruptly froze.
"What did you say?"
"The book says You-Know-Who is not dead." Quildon's voice trembled slightly. "He is possessing Hogwarts' Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Quirrell."
"He wants to seize the Philosopher's Stone and restore his body."
Fudge's face turned deathly pale.
"That... that's impossible." His voice sounded somewhat weak. "You-Know-Who was already... eleven years ago..."
"Minister, you have seen the Department of Mysteries' analysis yourself," Quildon interrupted. "The contents of that book are highly accurate."
"If what the book says is true, then You-Know-Who is at Hogwarts right now!"