Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy

This was the spell Harry and Veratia had developed together, powered by the legendary Eternal Flame—Gubraithian Fire, an ancient magical fire.

To master this flame, Harry had put in an unimaginable amount of effort and dedication.

"Protego Gubraithian (Flame Shield)!"

Harry cast the incantation, and the flames blazed even brighter.

This fire required no fuel and could burn forever!

Voldemort's eyes widened in shock as he stared at Harry. He never would have imagined that a mere first-year student could wield such an advanced spell.

The last time he had heard of a protective spell using fire was... during the confrontation with Grindelwald, the dark wizard defeated by Dumbledore.

But Grindelwald's fire was Fiendfyre.

And this Potter… his fire was Gubraithian Fire.

Gubraithian Fire, also known as the Eternal Flame, was a magically enchanted fire that could burn perpetually.

It was a spell of exceptional complexity, mastered by only a few wizards.

More importantly, it was not dark magic.

This spell was so advanced that Hogwarts had no plans to include it in the curriculum, not even a century ago.

Harry had learned to wield this fire only after studying a spellbook Cassandra had retrieved from the Malfoy family library.

The idea of using Gubraithian Fire as a protective barrier? That had been Veratia ingenious concept.

Using this eternal flame as an armor substitute proved extraordinarily effective.

The Fiendfyre snake summoned by Voldemort writhed wildly, trying to breach Harry's fiery shield, but it couldn't budge it an inch.

With the Philosopher's Stone as his backup, Harry's spell strength had reached unparalleled heights.

The Stone's energy gradually diminished, and Harry felt an increasingly intense instinct rising within him, as if it was ready to burst free from his body.

Following his instincts, Harry swung his wand, transforming a nearby stone pillar into a barrel of explosives that hurtled toward Voldemort.

Voldemort's heart skipped a beat as he hastily conjured a protective shield, but the barrel exploded on impact, the shockwave forcing him back several steps.

Seizing the opportunity, Harry cast a Disarming Charm at the staggering Voldemort.

But Voldemort was no ordinary opponent. Even in this critical moment, the cunning dark wizard deftly deflected the spell and retaliated with Cruciatus Curse.

The Gubraithian Fire surged, consuming the incoming curse entirely.

Harry waved his wand again, and thunder began to rumble ominously overhead.

"What kind of spell is this?!" A sense of foreboding gripped Voldemort as he retreated quickly, but the thunderclap followed him relentlessly, as if attached to him.

With no other choice, Voldemort reinforced his defenses above him.

Unfortunately, he was merely a fragmented soul, occupying Quirrell's lifeless body, incapable of wielding even a tenth of his original power.

The ominous feeling in Voldemort's heart grew stronger. He fired an Avada Kedavra, taking the chance to escape Quirrell's body and dissolve into black smoke.

In that instant, a blinding bolt of lightning struck from above, hitting Quirrell squarely.

Quirrell's scorched body turned jet-black, as though it had been electrocuted with high voltage.

Harry pointed his wand at Voldemort's soul fragment, intending to cast a spell, but an ominous premonition made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He instinctively rolled to the ground just as a voice echoed:

"Avada Kedavra!"

The deadly green light narrowly missed Harry, striking the ground harmlessly.

Harry quickly turned, but Voldemort's fragment seized the moment to escape in a whirlwind of dark smoke.

Scanning the area, Harry couldn't determine the origin of the attack.

Who had cast that Killing Curse?

The mysterious assailant made no further move, leaving Harry tense. He raised his wand, expanding the Gubraithian Fire's protective field.

"Revelio!"

Nothing. No signs of any hostile presence.

At that moment, the Philosopher's Stone's energy was fully absorbed.

A wave of dizziness overtook Harry as he stumbled and collapsed onto Quirrell's remains.

The moment Harry's body touched Quirrell's, the professor's charred remains crumbled into dust.

Before losing consciousness, Harry used his last ounce of strength to hurl the dark wizard's wand into the fire.

Though Harry's Gubraithian Fire remained active, he had no idea the attacker had already left the chamber.

Meanwhile, Voldemort wasn't as fortunate. After escaping the chamber and reaching the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he collided with a ghostly beauty with flowing black hair—a Slytherin specter.

A sense of familiarity struck Voldemort, but he couldn't recall where he had seen her before.

The specter pounced on his smoky soul form without warning, tearing away a large fragment of his soul.

"You… who are you?!" Voldemort demanded in disbelief.

The specter didn't answer. After ripping away three more pieces of his soul, she finally smirked and beckoned to her side.

A notebook materialized—one Voldemort recognized all too well.

"No… How is this possible?!"

That notebook was his!

Years ago, after learning of Cassandra's deeds from Abraxas Malfoy, Voldemort had disguised his Horcrux diary with a feminine appearance, signing it as "C.C. Malfoy" to ensure the Malfoy estate safeguarded it without suspicion.

He had also given Lucius Malfoy a duplicate diary to keep, trusting his most loyal servant to protect it.

But why… was the real Horcrux here?

Before he could process it, the specter compressed his smoky soul and forced it into the diary.

"Oh no… I've become a Horcrux!"

This was Voldemort's final thought before losing consciousness.

The notebook reverted to its original, worn-out state and vanished silently in a swirling vortex.

----

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was greeted by a pair of half-moon spectacles.

It was Dumbledore, smiling warmly at him.

"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"Professor," Harry replied, looking around.

He was lying on a hospital bed covered with crisp white linen. On the bedside table, gifts were stacked high, resembling a small mountain, as though half a candy shop had been relocated there.

To his left lay Seamus and Ron, both still unconscious.

"All gifts from your friends and admirers," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "Your act of stopping Professor Quirrell in the dungeon was meant to be a complete secret, but, as secrets often do, it spread rapidly. Now the whole school knows about it. By the way, I hear Fred and George were going to give you a toilet seat as a gift."

"They meant it as a joke, of course, but Madam Pomfrey deemed it unhygienic and confiscated it," Dumbledore added.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He couldn't quite figure out what purpose a toilet seat could serve as a gift—perhaps it really was just for laughs.

"How long have I been here?" Harry asked.

"Just one night," Dumbledore replied, still smiling. "I thought you might be out for quite a while, but you woke up before those two." He nodded toward Ron and Seamus.

"But Quirrell..." Harry frowned, not finishing his sentence.

He wanted to ask if Dumbledore knew how Quirrell had died, but he felt a little hesitant.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "It seems the flame protections I left behind were of some use, at least in keeping you safe. Also, I must admit, I had to conjure a broomstick to sweep up Professor Quirrell's remains."

"What exactly happened?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Love," Dumbledore said softly. "Your mother sacrificed herself to save you. If Voldemort doesn't understand something, it's love. He failed to realize that such profound love, like your mother's for you, would leave a mark on you."

"A mark?" Harry repeated, puzzled. "You mean my scar?"

"No, not a visible scar," Dumbledore explained. "Being deeply loved by someone, even if that person is no longer with us, leaves a protective charm. It's hidden in your skin. That's why Quirrell couldn't touch you. His soul was consumed by hatred, greed, and ambition, and bound to Voldemort's will. Touching someone marked by such love would cause him unbearable pain."

Harry froze for a moment, stunned.

No wonder...

No wonder Veratia had mentioned that he had a powerful protective spell on him, making the Cruciatus Curse ineffective. At first, he thought she simply couldn't bring herself to use the curse on him, but it turned out she was telling the truth.

For the first time in his life, Harry felt his mother's presence so close to him.

"Mom..." he murmured, tears slipping silently from the corners of his eyes.

Dumbledore said nothing, pretending instead to take a keen interest in a bird outside the window.

Taking the opportunity, Harry wiped his tears and pushed down the lump in his throat. He turned back to Dumbledore.

"I heard Voldemort say that Professor Quirrell once sought your help, but you ignored him?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry. Even as headmaster of Hogwarts, there are things I cannot do. Quirrell willingly devoted himself to Voldemort. Even if he had a moment of regret, it was likely part of some greater scheme. I'm glad you asked, but even if his remorse had been genuine, I couldn't have helped him. His fate was sealed the moment he chose to side with Voldemort."

"I understand, Professor," Harry said sincerely, nodding.

Having learned about the cunning nature of dark wizards, he couldn't summon any misplaced compassion. If Dumbledore had believed Quirrell, he doubted the headmaster would have become the greatest white wizard of all time.

"And the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked. "I felt its energy entering my body... Professor, is the stone safe?"

"Oh, the Philosopher's Stone..." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder. "It's no longer usable. I should remind you, absorbing all of the stone's energy should have caused you to explode—literally."

"But I'm alive and well, aren't I?" Harry grinned, showing no trace of worry.

"I believe so. More than that, I suspect the protective charm your mother left absorbed the stone's energy. I also have a feeling that your protection has grown even stronger," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "She was a brilliant witch, and only someone like her could master such advanced ancient magic."

Harry exhaled subtly, relieved that Dumbledore's interpretation had saved him from a lot of trouble.

"Don't you know how, Professor?" Harry asked, tilting his head innocently.

"Without the innate gift for ancient magic, it's impossible to learn," Dumbledore replied, a gleam of wisdom flashing behind his half-moon spectacles.

Harry couldn't shake the feeling that the headmaster had discerned something.

Remembering the Flamels, Harry asked, "What about the stone... and Mr. Flamel?"

"Don't worry. Nicolas has plenty of Elixir of Life stored up," Dumbledore said, winking. "Besides, we planned to destroy the stone after all this was over, so there's nothing to worry about."

"One last question, Professor," Harry said, after a moment of thought. "I feel as though you intentionally guided me to the dungeons... to confront Professor Quirrell—or rather, Voldemort?"

"Harry..." Dumbledore's eyes flickered with surprise. He hadn't expected such a direct question.

Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, he said, "Harry, when Voldemort returns, everyone has two choices: submit to his reign of terror or die resisting it."

"But you, Harry—over a decade ago, you humiliated him and reduced him to living as a parasite on the back of someone's head. Believe me, he's not one to forgive and forget. You, alone in this world, have no choice."

"I understand, Professor," Harry said firmly, nodding.

"That's enough questions for now," Dumbledore said, standing up and picking up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "I suggest you start enjoying these sweets."

"Ah, Every Flavor Beans! I had terrible luck with them in my youth—bit into a vomit-flavored one and haven't been a fan since. But surely, a toffee-flavored one can't go wrong, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'd recommend picking another," Harry said earnestly.

Dumbledore, obliging, returned the bean and selected a new one.

"Ah, chocolate. Quite pleasant," he said with a smile.

----

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