When Harry woke, he was already in Madam Pomfrey's Hospital Wing.
A pile of presents sat at the foot of his bed.
Harry felt around on the bedside cabinet and found his glasses. Someone had cast Reparo on them after they had been damaged yet again in the fight, leaving them better than new.
"I noticed they were a little damaged," Dumbledore said, walking in just then. "I took the liberty of repairing them for you. I hope none of those scratches held any fond memories."
"No, Professor." Harry still asked the question that concerned him most. "What about the Philosopher's Stone?"
Dumbledore's face was livid. "A thief stole it."
Time rewound to after Lorne had driven Voldemort away.
Dumbledore had just magically notified Professor McGonagall to arrange treatment for Ron and Hermione before hurrying toward the innermost room.
As he saw it, Harry possessed the magic of love, so Voldemort could not possibly kill him.
He might suffer some minor injuries, but as the Chosen One, Harry would have to experience such things.
Besides, the portraits throughout Hogwarts were his eyes and ears. He knew Lorne had already rushed over.
He had to revise his assessment of this director of the General Affairs Office once again: a very responsible and courageous teacher who would protect students even without sufficient strength.
He was also to blame for not telling Lorne the plan beforehand.
But... this was causing rather too much of a commotion.
The place was practically collapsing. Were Lorne and Voldemort trying to demolish Hogwarts?
Dumbledore hurriedly cast Apparition. When he arrived, dust filled the room. He waved a hand in front of his face and coughed twice as the dust caught in his throat.
"Ventus!"
Dumbledore waved his wand. A small whirlwind sprang up out of nowhere and rapidly sucked in the dust. Within seconds, his view cleared.
"Lorne, what are you doing here?" Dumbledore had intended to keep up appearances, but the sight of Quirrell on the floor instantly shattered his composure. "Is this Quirrell, or Voldemort?"
Lorne was feeding Quirrell a potion.
"Professor, that isn't important," Lorne said, arguing his case. "I drove Voldemort away and even brewed a potion to save Quirrell. Could you let me pass without taking the exams? At least give me passing grades in Charms and Potions Class."
Not important...
Dumbledore had not lowered his wand once.
He slowly approached and asked again, "I'm glad to see you're taking the exams I arranged so seriously, Lorne. But is the man lying on the floor still our Defence Against Dark Magic Class professor?"
"For now." Lorne had finished pouring all the potion down Quirrell's throat. "But Quirrell will probably resign voluntarily after this term. He needs time to recuperate."
Dumbledore gave Lorne a suspicious look.
Lorne said nothing. Beside him, Quirrell's body trembled incessantly. Finally, after exhaling an elusive wisp of breath, he slowly opened his eyes.
"I really... survived."
Lorne was not sure how good his potion actually was, either. Worried that Quirrell might have lost something, he waved a hand in front of Quirrell's face.
"Are you all right, Professor Quirrell? Does anything feel wrong?"
"No," Quirrell said firmly. "My body feels absolutely right."
He touched his head and stood up. Although the stones and tiles Lorne had controlled during the fight had struck his head, he felt this was the clearest his mind had ever been in his life.
"Thank you for your potion, Director Lorne. You're the most gifted person in Potions I know."
Lorne repeatedly waved off the praise, while inwardly hoping Quirrell would keep it coming. Perhaps Dumbledore really would bend the rules for him.
Looking at Quirrell, clearheaded and physically sound, Dumbledore could not help feeling delighted that possession by Voldemort's soul was not incurable after all. For now, however, he still asked that question.
"Professor Quirrell, I'd like to know how you survived Voldemort's Cruciatus Curse and mental control."
"He was already extremely weak. Without unicorn blood, he had almost completely lost his vitality, and Harry's magic of love burned Voldemort's soul as well."
Quirrell felt no resentment. He knew he might face questioning by the Ministry of Magic next. Telling Dumbledore the truth might even earn him forgiveness.
"I'm very sorry. My desire to understand forbidden Dark Magic led me to go to the Albanian Forest of my own accord. I never expected Voldemort to control and possess me there. He tortured me, enslaved me, and forced me to do some bad things, such as letting a troll in."
"Then I met Director Lorne. He said he had a way to save me, but we had to wait until Harry drove Voldemort away. I've waited until now, and at last I'm a person again."
Quirrell did not stammer this time. He spoke calmly and fluently.
He voluntarily placed his wand on the floor. "Everything I've said can be verified with a Pensieve or Legilimency. I'll cooperate fully."
Dumbledore said nothing. He looked at Lorne, seemingly waiting for him to speak in Quirrell's defense.
"I was indeed involved. Serving every teacher and student is the General Affairs Office's mission," Lorne said with righteous conviction. "Of course, dealing with Voldemort stealing school property is also my responsibility."
Dumbledore looked into Lorne's eyes, shook his head, and chuckled. "By stealing school property, do you mean taking a week's worth of food for all the teachers and students from the house-elves?"
Lorne looked embarrassed. "So you knew. Don't worry, I'll replace it over the holidays."
Dumbledore did not seem interested in the subject. "Where is the Philosopher's Stone?"
Lorne pulled the Philosopher's Stone from his pocket. "I found it, honest. Reckoned nobody wanted it."
"I need to discuss it with my friend Nicolas and see whether destroying it would be the best choice."
Lorne shook his head. "But this is my spoils of war. Without me, Voldemort would have stolen it."
Seeing Dumbledore's face grow increasingly livid, Lorne hurried to give himself a way out. "Unless..."
"Anything except your exams," Dumbledore cut in.
Lorne wanted to cry but had no tears. He glanced at Quirrell beside him and suddenly had another idea.
"These presents are all from the school's teachers and students. They all know now that you've thwarted Voldemort's plot once again." Dumbledore's expression was kindly.
"What about Voldemort, Professor?" Harry wanted to know everything. "Was he destroyed?"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"That may be rather difficult. I'm afraid he'll return, but don't worry, Harry. Your mother left a mark on you before she died. It will help protect you from Voldemort's attacks."
Harry unconsciously touched the scar on his forehead.
"Not your scar, Harry. Love."
With his dose of Dumbledore-brand chicken soup for the soul delivered, he finally remembered that he still had serious business to attend to.
Lorne had demanded that he protect Quirrell during the Ministry of Magic's trial-provided he truly had done nothing wrong and everything had been under Voldemort's control.
Only when everything was over would Lorne hand the Philosopher's Stone over to him.
Dumbledore shook his head with a chuckle.
He felt he might have underestimated Lorne. Whether it was that miraculous potion or his ability to drive Voldemort away, Lorne was nothing like a beginner who had only studied magic for a year.
He must have other secrets. Perhaps he might even prove to be a precious weapon against Voldemort.