Chapter 63: I Am the Headmaster!

No need to ask—this extravagant gift of advanced potion must have come from none other than the proud and aloof old serpent himself: Professor Severus Snape.

Who else but him could give such a valuable potion as a gift?

“It seems he really was very good friends with my parents,” Harry muttered to himself, carefully examining the bottle of Felix Felicis. The shimmering liquid inside gleamed so enticingly it seemed to captivate one’s very soul.

Inside the box, there was a note.

Harry reached for the slip of paper, unfolded it, and read:

> "Handle with care. Don’t let your dunderheaded little troll friends spill it. — S.S."

“What’s that?” Ron, the so-called "dunderheaded little troll," asked on cue.

Without a word, Harry handed the note to him.

Ron took it and, upon reading it, turned visibly indignant.

“This is downright insulting!” he fumed, though his gaze flicked back to the potion. “But, this is Felix Felicis—Liquid Luck—an advanced potion! Just this small vial could fetch hundreds of Galleons!”

Pausing, Ron glanced up and asked, “S.S.? Who’s that?”

“Professor Snape,” Harry said, carefully tucking the potion into his pocket. “Severus Snape. Of course, it’s him.”

Ron let out an understanding "oh" and said to Harry, “I can’t believe he’s this generous. You must be right—he really was your parents’ good friend. That photo you gave him must’ve struck the right chord.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied with a smile, spearing a piece of roast beef from his plate.

“So, where are we heading later?”

Ron resumed gnawing on a drumstick, then decided one wasn’t enough and grabbed another, finally grinning in satisfaction.

“To the Room of Requirement,” Harry said calmly after swallowing his mouthful of beef. “We’re not practicing magic today—I’ve discovered a new use for the room.”

“A new use?” Ron’s interest was immediately piqued. “I’ve got to see this—”

--

Meanwhile, back in the Headmaster’s office, a mysterious guest had arrived.

It was a goblin, with sparse hair atop its head, a less-than-pleasing appearance, and a pair of pronounced cross-eyes.

“Happy Christmas, Headmaster Dumbledore.” The goblin bowed politely, its voice rough and gravelly.

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Dumbledore inclined his head slightly and replied, “And a Merry Christmas to you, Bodrig. It’s already evening, though, so if there’s something urgent, please speak plainly. Forgive an old man’s bluntness—I require more sleep at my age.”

This particular goblin was not a stranger to him. His name was Bodrig “Boss-Eyes,” a spokesperson for the Goblin Brotherhood.

“There’s been a horrific incident in Knockturn Alley,” Bodrig began. “A dark wizard was transformed into a Flobberworm and stomped to death. I saw the scene myself—it was absolutely appalling. It reminded me of a deeply unpleasant memory.”

“I don’t consider the death of a dark wizard to be a horrific incident, nor do I see why it should stir unpleasant memories,” Dumbledore remarked casually. “Moreover, I am merely the Headmaster of Hogwarts, not the Minister of Magic. I suggest you take this matter to Cornelius, not to an old man like me.”

“No, you don’t understand, Dumbledore!” Bodrig nearly growled. “It’s him! He’s returned! That... that unspeakable monster!”

“Voldemort?” Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened momentarily before doubt crept in.

No, Voldemort preferred straightforward methods like the Killing Curse. He wouldn’t go through the trouble of transforming someone into a Flobberworm and then stomping them to death.

“No, it’s another figure—a different mysterious man,” Bodrig shuddered. “Harry Potter!”

“Harry Potter?” Dumbledore blinked in surprise before realizing that Bodrig was referring to the Harry Potter of a century ago.

“Yes, Harry Potter!” Bodrig whispered. “He’s returned—he really has! That man used to torment goblins by turning them into small creatures and crushing them underfoot… Headmaster Dumbledore, I know a new student named Harry Potter has enrolled at Hogwarts. Please allow me to meet him. I suspect he might be—”

“Bodrig!” Dumbledore’s previously kind demeanor turned stern. “I will not permit you to harass my student. And, let’s not forget, a century ago, it was the goblins who instigated the rebellion. That Harry Potter did nothing wrong!”

“I know, I know…” Bodrig shivered slightly, his voice lowering. “I merely wish to meet him, to negotiate some terms… A century has passed, and we goblins no longer harbor such thoughts. Too many have died; we cannot bear any more losses…”

“But he is merely a student at Hogwarts, not the same person from a century ago. You must understand this,” Dumbledore said coldly. “As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I will not allow you to disturb my students under any circumstances!”

“Really? Not even for this?” Bodrig took a deep breath. “This isn’t just for the goblins—it’s for Hogwarts as well. I believe a wise headmaster would not refuse such a proposal…”

Dumbledore said nothing, but a flash of displeasure crossed his eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.

“Dumbledore! You’ll regret this!” Bodrig roared, standing abruptly.

“Bodrig, I am the Headmaster,” Dumbledore replied calmly.

With a growl, Bodrig stormed out, slamming the door so hard it reverberated through the room.

Sitting back in his chair, Dumbledore’s eyes glimmered behind his spectacles.

Bodrig’s words had indeed stirred a ripple of unease within him.

But the notion that Harry was the same person from a century ago seemed utterly preposterous.

That said, there was something undeniably unusual about Harry…

Before the holiday break, during the Gryffindor-Slytherin confrontation, Dumbledore had watched from afar in his office.

He had personally witnessed how Harry used magic to defeat multiple upper-year students, including the Slytherin prefect, Miss Farley.

For a first-year student, such prowess was extraordinary. Even Dumbledore himself couldn’t have achieved that level in his first year.

Perhaps it was due to Lily’s ancient charm? Dumbledore mused.

In any case, he decided he needed to observe the boy more closely to ensure he wasn’t being influenced by some dark artifact.

With that thought, Dumbledore formulated a plan, stood up, and prepared to put it into action.

He knew that a boy Harry’s age, having received an Invisibility Cloak, would undoubtedly want to sneak out and explore.

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