Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

Inside the Headmaster's office, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. The professors sat scattered around the room, their faces pale and worn from the night's events. Snape stood silently in the corner, arms folded, his expression unreadable as always. Professor McGonagall sat directly opposite Dumbledore, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Dumbledore himself sat behind his grand desk, fingers steepled, eyes lost in thought as the quiet hum of the room lingered.

The silence was broken by the sudden creak of the door swinging open.

James Potter strode in, his movements hurried, his face etched with worry. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Dumbledore.

"Professor ," James said breathlessly.

Dumbledore's gaze softened as he gestured to the empty chair before him. "Come in, James. Sit down, my friend."

Without hesitation, James dropped into the seat, leaning forward urgently. "How's Harry? Is he… is he all right? You're not about to give me bad news, are you?"

Dumbledore raised a calming hand. "Relax, James. Harry is safe. He's just asleep — exhausted, nothing more. You'll be able to see him soon."

James exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders, though his brow remained furrowed. "Thank Merlin…" He hesitated, then added, voice lower now, "Is it true? About… him? You-Know-Who?"

Dumbledore's expression grew grave. "Say his name, James. Fear only feeds him."

James swallowed hard, then nodded. "Voldemort… is it true? He's back?"

Dumbledore's eyes darkened slightly. "Yes… in a manner of speaking. He's returned, but not fully. A wraith, clinging to life — neither living nor dead. Thanks to your son's bravery, he couldn't reclaim his body… not tonight."

James clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. "Did you catch him?" His voice was laced with desperate hope.

Dumbledore shook his head, the faintest trace of frustration passing over his features. "No. By the time I arrived, he had already fled. He was weak, vulnerable — his form too fragile to confront me… so he ran. I was at the Ministry when everything unfolded. By the time I returned, Hogwarts was in chaos."

James slumped back slightly, disappointment flickering across his face. He dragged a hand through his hair. "So what now? He'll come back, won't he?"

Dumbledore's voice was quiet but certain. "Not immediately. He's clever — dangerously so. He won't risk exposing himself again until he finds a way to truly return… until he finds the means to restore his body."

The room fell silent for a moment, only the faint ticking of one of the many enchanted instruments filling the background.

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, how many students were injured tonight?"

McGonagall's stern features faltered, her shoulders sagging slightly. "Seventy-three students sustained critical injuries," she reported grimly. "The rest suffered minor hexes and bruises — nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't manage with basic healing potions." She paused, frowning. "Thankfully, those under the Imperius-like control didn't use any Dark Magic — at least nothing fatal or permanently damaging. But the psychological wounds…" She sighed heavily. "The parents, Albus… they'll be demanding answers."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "We owe them that much." His gaze shifted to the shadowed corner. "Severus, you'll speak to the parents of the Slytherin students. I'll handle the rest."

Snape inclined his head slightly, his dark eyes betraying no emotion. "As you wish, Headmaster."

James rubbed his temples, his nerves far from settled. "What about the Ministry? They'll come breathing down our necks the moment this leaks."

"They already know," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Cornelius Fudge was here tonight — saw the aftermath himself. He'll try to contain the situation, but…" Dumbledore's eyes drifted to the window, staring out into the dark horizon. "The winds are shifting. Voldemort's shadow lingers, even in his absence."

James was silent for a long moment, then forced a shaky breath. "I just want to see my son."

"You will," Dumbledore assured him gently. "Go to the hospital wing, James. He'll wake soon. Let him rest… he's earned it."

McGonagall added softly, "He's… remarkable, that boy. You should be proud."

James offered a faint, grateful smile, then rose to his feet. Before leaving, he turned back, his voice more resolute. "If Voldemort comes back… I'll be ready. This time, he won't touch my family."

With that, James exited, the door closing softly behind him, leaving the weight of the night lingering in the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore stared out the window, his reflection faint in the glass, eyes distant as the first rays of dawn crept across the sky.