Harry slowly lay back into bed, his bones falling apart after three days of slumber, and he felt like he had no strength at all. Dumbledore looked at his pale face and nodded disapprovingly.

"So, where do we start? How much do you remember?"

"Not much." Harry replied weakly, "As I said, I gave me the Philosopher's Stone in the mirror, and Quirrell found out, and we scuffled over it...... I tore off his headscarf and he threw him down on the stone steps......

"You saw a human face on the back of Quirrell's head, right?"

Harry nodded.

"He's Voldemort?"

Dumbledore slowly closed his eyes and didn't answer the question directly.

"I'm sure Hagrid has told you how Voldemort killed your family and tried to kill you, and how he failed. Your mother—she protected you with her life, and the guardian magic she cast on you bounced Voldemort's deadly spell back to himself, battering him hard." He said, "I still remember her, Lily Potter — then called Lily Evans, she was a very, very talented witch. But no one, including me, could have imagined that she would be able to accomplish such a feat—defeat the most evil dark wizard of all time."

"How did she do that?"

"Love, Harry." Dumbledore looked at him kindly, "Your mother doesn't have the terrible magic of Voldemort, but she has love for you, and Voldemort despises this power because he has never had such feelings, and he doesn't understand the power of love, courage, and sacrifice."

Harry felt a slight soreness in the corners of his eyes, and he secretly wiped his eyes with his hand as Dumbledore looked back out the window.

"After that, almost everyone thought he was dead, but I always had doubts about it, and as you can see, my guess unfortunately hit."

"He's always attached to Quirrell?"

"I don't believe it's 'always.'" Dumbledore said, "It seems to me, at least, that until last year, Quirinus Quirrell had been just an ordinary faculty member in the school, and his suspicious state had only started in this school year. We believe it was something that happened to him on that expedition he embarked on last summer, but it wasn't until recently that I realized that "what" was Voldemort."

Harry swallowed.

"For more than ten years, Voldemort has not been heard from, this is absolutely not voluntary, he has lost his body and his soul is weakened, Quirrell may be the first person he has successfully bewitched, before that, he can probably only survive hiding in small animals and the like...... That's why Voldemort is so desperate for the power of the Philosopher's Stone – it's not hard to imagine how much he is attracted to a body that truly belongs to him."

The thread of the story became clear in Harry's head, "yes, I think I've heard him say something like that...... But why does Voldemort want my life so much?"

"I think it's because he's still haunted by his last failure. Voldemort is very arrogant, Harry, I'm sure you feel it too. He thinks he should be powerful, perfect, and invincible, and your survival has ruined that." Dumbledore said meaningfully, "But this once again exposes his short-sightedness. Your mother's magic still protects you to this day, and it has once again helped you thwart Voldemort's schemes."

"Quirrell was about to choke me by the neck when his hand suddenly started to burn...... Harry muttered, "So, does that mean Voldemort is really dead this time?"

"I'm afraid not." Dumbledore grimaced, "Voldemort was as ruthless as his followers as enemies, and as soon as he found out that Quirrell's body was about to die, he immediately left himself and fled—he was probably lurking in a corner now, looking for a poor person with whom he would share his body, or a new resurrection plan...... Anyway, we still have a long way to go, Harry."

Harry was surprised to find that after learning the news, he didn't

He wasn't as scared as he imagined, maybe there was a power in the dark that had made him foresee this outcome.

"Will he keep his eyes on the Philosopher's Stone again, Professor?"

Dumbledore laughed, "Oh, we don't have to worry about this anymore - the Philosopher's Stone has been destroyed."

"Ruined?!"

Dumbledore nodded, and said, "During the few days you were unconscious, I had a long conversation with Nicol, and we finally came to the conclusion that it was better to let it be destroyed."

"But what about him and his wife?" Harry couldn't help but raise his voice, "They need the elixir of immortality to keep them alive."

"They still have some stock, enough to get everything in order. And then, yes, they're going to die."

Seeing the stunned look on Harry's face, Dumbledore couldn't help but smile.

"I know, for someone as young as you, it seems a little incredible; But for Nicol and Perenal, immortality has become a burden in a way—death is actually like going to bed after a long day." He laughed and said, his relaxed tone sounding like he wasn't talking about death at all, "You know, the Philosopher's Stone isn't really such a wonderful thing. With it, no matter how much wealth you want to have, how long you want to live, you can get what you want, and these two things are what humans want most – but the problem is that humans like to choose the things that are least beneficial to them."

Harry lay there, not knowing what to say for a moment. Dumbledore knew he didn't fully understand, but he didn't mean to continue explaining, just sat there and hummed a little song happily.

"There's another thing......

"Just ask."

"Quirrell said Snape—"

"The second time, Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, it's him—Quirrell said that Professor Snape hated me because he hated my father. Is this true?"

Dumbledore shrugged, "Well, they do look at each other unpleasantly...... I have to say that both sides have an inescapable responsibility on this issue. But then, your father did something that Professor Snape would never forgive him."

"What's the matter?"

"Your father saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes." Dumbledore said quietly, "The human mind is indeed wonderful, isn't it? Professor Snape can't stand to owe your father such a favor, and I believe that's why he's trying to protect you, because he wants to pay off the debt he owes to your father, and then he can continue to hate him with peace of mind."

Harry tried to think about it, but it made his head ache violently again, and he had to stop thinking about it.

"By the way, sir, one last question......

"The last one?"

"How did I get the Philosopher's Stone out of the Magic Mirror?"

"Ah, I'm glad you finally asked me about it. It's a little trick of mine, it's not complicated, but I think it's amazing. You know, only the one who wishes to find the Philosopher's Stone—to find it, but not to use it—can get it; As for the others, they can only be seen in the mirror to make a fortune for gold, or to drink elixirs to prolong their lives."

"I'm the only one who has seen the mirror and I meet this condition?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Hey, you just said that's the last question." Dumbledore winked at him and smiled, but replied anyway, "Well, yes and no—there's another person who has had a chance to get the Philosopher's Stone. He's the opposite of you, he has a very personal and utilitarian desire for the Philosopher's Stone, but the magic on the mirror doesn't pose a serious obstacle to him, and if he had the intention, he could have snatched the stone and run away before the mirror was moved into the restricted area."

"Then why didn't he do it?"

"I don't want to speculate on his mental activity at the time with unserious thoughts." Dumbledore said respectfully, "But I know it's and yours right

Straightforwardness is as admirable as selflessness - well, we've talked enough, now I suggest you get some rest...... Before leaving, do you mind if I take a can of multi-flavored beans from that pile of gifts? Ever since I accidentally ate a stinking sock-smelling bean as a kid, I haven't had the courage to try them for almost a century, maybe...... Is this a great opportunity to face yourself again?"

Harry shuddered with laughter, and when he looked up again, Dumbledore was gone.

Dumbledore walked out of the room, quietly closed the door, nodded to Madam Pomfrey guarding the door, and left the school infirmary.

Neil waited for him in the hallway, leaning against the pillar, boringly counting the tassels under the tapestry to pass the time.

"Mr. Headmaster."

Seeing Dumbledore come out, he slowly bowed his back, and his expression didn't look surprised.

"So, Mr. Potter woke up? How good, we don't want him to be a sleeping beauty, do we? Speaking of which, does that story have a real case in the wizarding world?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly, not as if he didn't mind his attitude.

"Yes, Harry is awake, but I'm afraid you won't be able to visit him just yet—Madam Pomfrey insisted that the patient needed to rest, and I had to abuse my headmaster power to get in and see him."

"Ah, it's nothing, we all know and respect Madam Pomfrey's seriousness in her work, and if the doctor's order asks Mr. Potter to decline a meeting, then we should comply, right?" Neil paused, then abruptly changed, "Of course, I also admire that you have taken the time to visit him in addition to your daily needs, and Mr. Potter and his friends will be honored...... Well, if this warmth could be divided into about half for us poor people, it would be perfect."

"You're right, Mr. Ding, and I want to thank you for your contribution to Hogwarts."

"Yes, yes, I—honored to be, yes...... But, Mr. Chancellor, I would like to say ...... if you will allow you."

"Huh?"

"Even if you say nice things for me needlessly in front of Mr. Potter, we can't negotiate a good price, after all, you've done too unkindly this time...... How could anyone watch him carry nearly four dozen trolls into the castle, and then deliberately not say a word?"

Dumbledore cowered his neck in feigned fear, and a long, white-bearded old man blinking his eyes was unexpectedly comical. He tucked the large jar of multi-flavored beans he had brought out from the hospital room under his armpit, and groped in his pocket for a while to take out a red gem about half the size of a fingernail.

Neil's expression instantly became respectful, and he carefully took it with both hands and put it in a small bag and put it away close to his body.

"I have indeed received the extra reward this time, Mr. Headmaster, and on behalf of the Elders, I thank you for your generosity."

Dumbledore bowed slightly.

"I've always remembered what you said to me that night in the Headmaster's Office, and now that you've proven yourself trustworthy, I'm not going to ask you for any extra assurance—I'm sure you'll put it to good use." He said, "But excuse me—I'm a little curious, what exactly are you going to do with it?"

Neil hesitated, hesitating to tell the truth.

"Well, it's a bit of a shame to be taught, but just as much as you want to believe me, I also believe that you'll keep your mouth shut—yes, that's one of the greatest strengths in you in my opinion, and you don't say anything......

He cleared his throat.

"Bottom line: The Second Elder graciously promised me that this small grain could be used to pay for a sentence of about one hundred and fifty years......

Dumbledore couldn't help but laugh.

"You're a good student beyond my imagination, Mr. Ding. Your teacher will be very proud, too."

"I hope so, Mr. Headmaster." Neil bowed again, a little deeper than before, "Now, if you'll allow me

Lost ......"

"Wait a minute, Mr. Ding, I forgot something!"

Neil gave him a startled look, as if to say, "Again?"

"The Ministry of Magic is not happy about the trolls equipped with oriental magical items, especially the one you mentioned in your report called the "corpse golem", and I want you to be mentally prepared for the possibility that they will summon you in the near future."

"There's a good chance they're ...... What?!"

Dumbledore touched his nose a little wryly, apparently feeling that this kind of behavior of the Ministry of Magic also fell within the category of "family ugliness".

"Ridiculous, isn't it? They don't want to admit that Voldemort is still alive, so they blame everything on the mysterious "monk" you mentioned, and you can't really expect them to catch that person, can you?"

Neilton was furious.

"Wait, you're saying—you mean, those brazen ruffians, hooligans, and mountain artillery are going to take the blame on me?! How can I have to cast a pyloric festering curse on each of them!"