It was a beautiful night.
Stars blanketed the sky.
Harry guessed tomorrow would be a fine day—perfect weather to go home for the holidays.
As soon as he stepped out of the cloister, a dark shadow loomed overhead—it was Hagrid.
Hagrid wore a deeply guilty expression.
"It's all my fault—I didn't realize Quirrell was... him. I didn't figure it out until Professor Dumbledore told me yesterday. The one who gave me the dragon egg—it was that bastard Quirrell. If it weren't for me, he wouldn't have learned how to put Fluffy to sleep, he wouldn't have reached the final room, and you wouldn't have almost died..." Hagrid's eyes were red.
Even though the situation from the original story hadn't happened—Harry trying to convince Hagrid that Snape was after the Stone and that someone already knew how to bypass Fluffy—Hagrid still blamed himself for everything Harry had gone through.
Ah, kind-hearted Hagrid.
Harry, on the other hand, was more curious about how exactly Dumbledore had described things to Hagrid. Almost died? That was quite the exaggeration.
Harry said, "This wasn't your fault. It's Dumbledore's fault for not protecting me properly. Why are you feeling guilty? If you really think I was in danger, go punch Dumbledore in the face. Oh—but be gentle. Your fists are bigger than his head."
At that very moment, Dumbledore was putting on a fresh set of robes to head to the Great Hall.
"Achoo, achoo..." he sneezed and rubbed his long nose. Did I catch a cold?
...
Hagrid was speechless. He admired Dumbledore more than anyone—of course he wouldn't punch him.
Harry said, "If you're not going to deck him, then don't bring it up again. I didn't even lose a single hair. Stop crying—it's making me uncomfortable."
Hagrid: "..."
Hagrid didn't want to talk anymore. Mentally, he tossed a salted fish at Harry.
Still, remembering the reason he'd come today, Hagrid held back and pulled out a thick album.
"These are photos I gathered from some of your parents' old friends. I figured... you probably haven't seen them before."
"Mm. Thanks." Harry accepted them politely, though he didn't really need them.
He flipped through a few pages. He really did look a lot like James. But Harry figured he was much better-looking. When he saw Lily's picture, he finally understood why Snape had never been able to forget her—not even in death.
She was beautiful. School-queen level.
Especially those gentle eyes—just looking at the photograph gave Harry a strange sense of familiarity.
...
...
The Great Hall was packed for the year-end feast. As always, every student in the school attended.
The younger students were simply excited, but the seventh-years had more solemn expressions as they pondered their futures.
The banners of Slytherin—green and silver—hung from the ceiling in neat rows.
A large horizontal banner behind the staff table bore the Slytherin crest: a snake.
You could hear the Slytherin students loudest of all.
Especially the seventh-years, who looked so proud it was almost painful to look at them.
But it wasn't surprising.
This was Slytherin's seventh consecutive House Cup victory!
That meant these seventh-years had enjoyed this honor every year since they started school—it defined their entire Hogwarts experience! And that alone was enough to brag about for the rest of their lives.
In over a thousand years of Hogwarts history, no other house had ever been so dominant.
Maybe one day, Hogwarts: A History would note that Severus Snape was the only Head of House in over a millennium to lead his house to seven consecutive victories.
Dumbledore stepped to the center of the staff table. "Another year has passed. Some are stepping toward their future, while others have heads full of knowledge to digest over the summer... No need for many words. First, let us begin the House Cup ceremony."
"As of now, in fourth place: Gryffindor, 312 points. In third: Hufflepuff, 352 points. Ravenclaw stands at 426, and Slytherin leads with 472 points."
A thunderous cheer erupted from the Slytherin table. Students high-fived each other in triumph.
The banging of fists on tables could probably be heard all the way across the Black Lake.
"But..." Dumbledore drew out the word dramatically, "Some recent events must be taken into consideration."
The hall quieted instantly. All eyes turned to Dumbledore. The Slytherin students looked uneasy.
Snape, as usual, had a cold expression—so it was impossible to tell how he felt.
Dumbledore glanced around the hall. "First, sixty points to Miss Granger of Gryffindor, for defeating Professor McGonagall's life-sized chess set and winning the finest game Hogwarts has seen in years!"
The Gryffindor table nearly blew the enchanted ceiling off with their cheers. The stars above seemed to shimmer from the noise.
You could see Hermione's friends staring at her in admiration. The younger girls clearly saw her as an idol now.
Hermione was surprised. She knew full well that all the rooms on the fourth floor had been cleared by Harry alone. Why was she getting the points?
But being clever, she quickly figured it out—Dumbledore couldn't award all the points to Harry, so Hermione, who had been with him, was the next best choice.
"Second," Dumbledore continued, "sixty points to Miss Cho Chang of Hufflepuff. Not only does she possess outer beauty, but also inner nobility and kindness. Her soul is pure and radiant."
"Whoa." No one knew exactly what Cho had done to earn that many points, but Dumbledore didn't elaborate.
"And finally, to Harry Potter... for using courage, wisdom, and determination to protect something of great importance—one hundred points to Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor students excitedly counted on their fingers: "We're tied with Slytherin now!"
The seventh-years were red with excitement. Could we really witness Gryffindor winning the Cup in our final year? Merlin's blessing!
But they were also itching with curiosity. What exactly did Harry protect? Come on, just tell us already!
Unfortunately, Dumbledore had no such intention. And those with burning curiosity suffered the most.
The Slytherin students' expressions said it all: So close and now it's slipping away...
Harry didn't even have to look to know their faces were dark as storm clouds. He calmly ate a slice of peach and cream cake and thought, Are they really going to shove the Cup over to Gryffindor? That'd be pretty blatant favoritism...
The Slytherins were glaring at Dumbledore with suspicion and resentment. But his long-standing reputation for fairness kept them from speaking up.
Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students were quietly pleased. They had no shot at the Cup themselves, but anything that stopped Slytherin from winning again was worth celebrating.
The Gryffindors, meanwhile, were reinvigorated. The Cup was within reach.
...
Everyone held their breath, waiting for Dumbledore's final judgment.
"Well then... there's one last thing," he said.
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