"It really... it really has faded..." Harry touched his forehead, his voice choked with emotion, and his eyes reddened.
He looked at Draco gratefully.
Draco shrugged at him.
Sirius rushed over, examined Harry's forehead closely, and then hugged his godson tightly. The tough guy's voice trembled slightly. "Thank goodness... Harry... Thank goodness! That damned mark... finally..."
Dumbledore simply watched this scene quietly.
His usually wise and profound eyes now reflected a sense of relief, contentment, and a kind of... spiritual liberation, as if the shackles that had bound his heart for decades had finally been broken.
Now there's no need to worry day and night about the hidden dangers within Harry's body, nor to struggle with the trap set by those who exploit the longing for their loved ones.
The final shackle that Tom Riddle had placed on this world, on Harry, and indirectly on his heart, was now completely severed by this young man.
Draco did not interrupt their emotional outburst.
He simply walked to the side, placed the jar containing Voldemort's soul on the ground, and cast a soul-destroying spell.
A silvery-gray light surged into the jar, which erupted in a final, violent struggle and shriek before falling silent.
The runes on the jar wall went out one by one, and the jar itself cracked with a snap, breaking into pieces on the ground.
Finally, it turned into shimmering powder and dissipated in the wind.
The fragment of Tom Marvolo Riddle's soul, representing the last trace of his existence, has been permanently erased from this world, with no possibility of resurrection whatsoever.
Voldemort is truly dead.
Having done all this, Draco breathed a sigh of relief, wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, and looked at Harry and Sirius, who were still immersed in excitement, and Hermione, whose eyes were filled with tears.
And then there was Old Dumbledore suddenly felt much more relaxed.
"Alright, mission accomplished." Draco clapped his hands with a relaxed tone. " Harry, the tenant inside you has been removed, and the scar will slowly heal into a normal scar."
"Rest quietly for a few days! Madam Pomfrey has some calming and soul-nourishing Potions; remember to drink them on time."
Harry pulled away from his godfather's embrace and said with utmost seriousness, " Draco, you saved me, and now you... you helped me get rid of this... this thing. I..."
"Stop." Draco gestured for a halt.
"One word of thanks is enough. If you really want to thank me, get well soon, and then..." A mischievous smile crept across his lips, "... you can help take some of the firepower off me and Hermione."
"You have no idea, Hermione and I get stared at wherever we go, and people are always asking us all sorts of questions."
"Now that you're discharged from the hospital, everyone's attention will definitely go back to you, the main character, and we can finally have some peace and quiet."
Harry chuckled at his words, and the heaviness and gratitude in his heart transformed into warmth. He felt an unprecedented sense of ease and said confidently, "I feel much better now!"
"Really! They only drew a little blood from me. Apart from being a little weak, I'm fine. I'd like to be discharged. I think Madam Pomfrey will agree."
" Harry!" Sirius objected, "You just had magical surgery! You need to be observed for a few more days! What if there are any side effects?"
"Godfather~" Harry used a rare tone in his voice.
"I feel really good, better than ever. And the smell of the Hospital Wing... you know."
"I want to go back to the tower, see Ron and the others, and... eat and attend classes like a normal student."
Seeing the renewed light and longing in Harry's eyes, Sirius's heart softened. He knew that for Harry,
True recovery is not just about the body, but also about the mind and a return to normal life.
"... Alright," Sirius finally relented, "But you must promise me you'll take your medicine on time, and if you feel unwell, immediately go to Madam Pomfrey or... Draco and the Headmaster!"
"I promise!" Harry agreed immediately.
"You can come to me, but my consultation fees are very high, Mr. The Chosen One," Draco joked.
Everyone laughed.
Shortly afterward, after a thorough examination by Madam Pomfrey and after administering several vials of Potions, she reluctantly agreed to Harry's suggestion to be discharged from the hospital.
Although reluctant, Sirius knew it was time to return to Grimmauld Place to handle some matters concerning the Order of the Phoenix and his family.
He gave Harry repeated instructions, and then solemnly thanked Draco and Dumbledore before leaving Hogwarts.
The news of Harry Potter's recovery and discharge from the hospital spread throughout the castle like wildfire, just as Draco had predicted.
When he appeared in the Great Hall or walked down the corridor, everyone's eyes and the focus of conversation were on the boy who had survived a terrifying kidnapping and returned safely.
His friends surrounded him, offering their greetings, but most of all they were saying was how happy they were for his safe return.
Lavender and Parvati's gossip reignited, only this time the object of their interest changed from Draco and Hermione to Harry.
At this moment, two people, hand in hand, quietly retreated to the edge of the crowd, enjoying a peaceful moment without being overly noticed.
In the dimly lit corridor of the Trophy Room,
Only Filch's old oil lamp cast a flickering light, illuminating his perpetually gloomy face and Mrs. Norris's reluctant expression beside him.
When Draco appeared at the door of the Trophy Room, a glimmer of excitement ignited in Filch's cloudy eyes.
"It's you again, you troublemaking Malfoy." Filch stood in front of the door, trying to intimidate.
"Three whole years! For three whole years, not a single brat has had to be put in solitary confinement to clean this junk! But you... every few days, you come up with something new! What, do you think the Hogwarts rules are a game just for you?"
" Mr. Filch, what are you saying?" Draco laughed. "For three whole years, no one has come to keep you company. Aren't you lonely, all alone with this pile of dusty trophies?"
"I came here with good intentions, sacrificing my precious evening to chat with you and stretch my muscles. You don't appreciate it, fine, but why bring up my shortcomings?"
As he spoke, he walked past Filch, pushed open the door to the showroom, and headed familiarly to the pile of cleaning tools in the corner.
Hermione, the overseer, couldn't help but laugh out loud at Draco's absurd theories. Filch was so angry at his words that his beard trembled. He followed Draco into the display room and shone an oil lamp on him.
"Accompany me? I don't need you to accompany me! I'd rather you little Troll who only know how to cause trouble never show your faces again. Clean carefully, don't even think about leaving if there's any dust!"
"Watch your words, Mr. Filch." Draco picked up a rag and wiped the nearest Quidditch Cup.
"Do you know who you're talking to? Speak to me more politely, and maybe next time my father comes to inspect the school, I can put in a good word for you."
"..."
I almost forgot this kid has a minister father. At this moment, Filch's voice suddenly stopped, like a chicken being choked.