Dumbledore said nothing. He lowered his head and remained silent.

After thinking for a while, he slowly said: "Harry, you are a true savior. You have courage and determination."

Harry didn't say anything, his vertical pupils looked even narrower in the dim light.

"There are some things I cannot tell you right now..." Dumbledore paused, speaking as gently as possible.

Harry interrupted him: "Then there is no need to discuss this, Headmaster Dumbledore. Sweet dreams."

Without any delay, he turned around and left.

When Harry pushed open the office door and stepped half a foot out.

Dumbledore called to him, "Wait."

"Harry, sit back down and let me think about it."

Harry didn't listen to him, but didn't continue to leave. He leaned against the door and looked at Dumbledore from a distance.

"I just have a guess. If anyone can kill Voldemort completely, only you can do it." Dumbledore said sincerely.

"Don't worry, he won't do you..."

Harry waved his hand, thoughtfully: "Only I can do this?"

"Is it because of this scar?"

At this point, Harry paused, his brows twisted into a knot: "No one can survive the Killing Curse, except me."

“Did my parents protect me?”

"What kind of spell is still effective today?"

Dumbledore was startled, his expression became more complicated.

This reminded him of a person, whose eyes were also unusual and whose sharpness was also unusual.

"Dumbledore," Harry called him, walking back into the room, without adding the word "Headmaster." "I can do whatever you want."

"Voldemort is the enemy who killed my blood relatives."

"If there is anything I can do, I would be happy to do it, but you have to tell me the reason. I can't be ignorant and be manipulated like a puppet in a show."

"I'm not the kind of person who gets carried away by someone's instigation or compliments."

Dumbledore exhaled, "Well, I think you are ready."

He waved and Harry sat down.

"During the period when Voldemort was wreaking havoc," Dumbledore narrated slowly, "a prophecy appeared that a child born at the end of July would become Voldemort's mortal enemy. Only one of them could survive."

As he spoke, he looked at Harry carefully, trying to read something on his face.

No matter how the prophecy will be fulfilled.

Harry will finally face Voldemort.

Will he...still have the courage?

Harry turned serious, "Neville is also at the end of July, one day earlier than me."

Dumbledore's expression relaxed slightly. "Yes, Neville too. There were two children of prophecy, but Voldemort chose you in the end."

"Your mother used a very ancient spell to protect you."

"Voldemort was cursed back, and you survived."

Dumbledore paused and said, "That spell contains the greatest emotional force in the world - love."

"Before your parents died, they poured all their love into you."

"This power will always protect you - although the physical protection will end sooner or later."

Harry understood: "So... I am a special potion against Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded.

Harry played with his wand. "You can't kill him, is it because... you don't have enough power, or if you kill him, he will still, or have a chance to be resurrected?"

"It's the latter." Dumbledore replied lightly, "But I'm not quite sure what method he used."

He met Harry's gaze and added, "Really."

Harry was silent.

It reminded him of a monster.

A monster that can also... to a certain extent, be resurrected from the dead - the Deer-Headed Spirit. It will randomly use black magic to curse travelers passing through its territory. As long as the cursed person does not leave the territory, it can be resurrected again no matter how many times it dies.

"I need you to try to fight him." Seeing that he didn't say anything, Dumbledore continued, "This ancient spell hasn't appeared for a long time. I need to know what effect it still has."

"Just to protect you..."

"Or just like that night, being able to fight back against his ill will towards you."

Harry took a deep breath and stopped thinking about the leopard.

The magic systems of the two worlds have almost no similarities, and the magic that Voldemort can use to resurrect is unlikely to be the same as the magic of the Deer-Headed Spirit.

He picked up the milk and moistened his slightly dry throat: "What are the possibilities?"

Dumbledore was stunned, a little confused: "What?"

"The chance that the old spell will work," Harry broke down the question, explaining it in as much detail as possible. "It also has the potential to not work, doesn't it?"

"Although the scar is reacting."

"But I am sure that there is no magical aura on me that does not belong to me."

In the Demon Hunter world, Triss had done a detailed examination for herself. If there was any problem, she would have told me long ago.

Dumbledore raised his hand, took off his glasses and put them aside: "The effect of the spell still exists. It has not failed. At least in terms of magic, you can now completely trust me."

"What about the reward?" Harry weighed it in his mind.

Dumbledore was stunned again. He was very confused: "Reward?"

Harry said confidently, "Of course. You asked me to take the risk to do something like this. I can't get nothing."

"The Sorting Hat is already in your hands." Dumbledore spread his hands.

Harry shook his head: "I am qualified to take the Gryffindor Trial. It is in my hands, as it should be."

"What do you want?" Dumbledore tilted his head back, half-closed his eyes, and looked deep.

Harry pursed his lips.

This is a commission, and demon hunters never do tasks without payment.

But I don't lack Galleons.

Moreover, the greatest white wizard of this century only took Galleons, which was like going to a mountain of treasures and returning empty-handed.

Curse?

At my age, I can't learn any advanced spells. Besides... a powerful spell can't decide anything. What's most needed in battle is the brain.

"Have you thought it through?" Dumbledore said at the right time.

Harry shook his head: "No, let me think about it carefully and give you an answer before the end of the semester."

Seeing Dumbledore was about to open his mouth, he immediately added: "It won't be too much. I know my limits."

Dumbledore nodded and smiled, "Of course, Harry, I believe you."

Harry rubbed his face, drank the remaining milk in the cup, and turned away without hesitation.

There was silence in the office.

Dumbledore sat there blankly, holding his glasses in his hand, wondering what he was thinking.

"Albus, are you spoiling him too much?" A portrait couldn't help but say, "Bargaining with you..."

Dumbledore exhaled, his tone a little tired: "I have to believe him."

In the Gryffindor common room.

When Harry just climbed in.

He was greeted with a deafening cheer.

"The warrior who slaughtered the trolls is back!" someone shouted.

“Well done!”

George squeezed next to Harry and handed him a glass of butterbeer skillfully. "We heard from Ron that you killed a troll by yourself."

"This is something that many sixth-year wizards can't do yet." Fred agreed.

The sixth-year wizard who was obviously stabbed hard was blushing and trying his best to argue reluctantly: "Is it because I can't do it?"

“A new professor every year.”

"I have to catch up with their teaching ideas every time. It's so annoying!"

Harry smirked and responded to each one.

Suddenly, someone complained worriedly: "Potter, I know you are very capable, but you shouldn't take such risks next time."

"Hermione's there," Harry replied.

The man frowned: "Ron said so, but she's not worth it..."

"No, she's worth it." Harry interrupted her, "Hermione is also a Gryffindor, and... the reason she was injured and went to the school infirmary was because she wanted to help me."

Ron blinked.

I really want to ask you this - Harry, when you say this, aren't you being disingenuous?

The man was stunned.

"She is only an eleven-year-old child. It is normal for her to be immature. She should be given a chance to correct her mistakes, right?" Harry asked further.

The people around fell silent.

Harry picked up the troll head in the middle of the table and waved to Ron: "Come on, Ron, don't you have anything else to tell me?"

The two of them walked towards the dormitory.

"Harry, do you know what I saw when I went to see the professor?" Ron shouted impatiently as he entered the dormitory, before the door was even closed.

"What?"

Ron took a deep breath, his expression serious: "I saw Professor Snape. He went to the fourth floor - you know, the fourth floor corridor that the headmaster said was off-limits."

Harry rubbed his head. "So, you delayed until I killed all the trolls before bringing the professor here because you were following Snape?"

Ron was startled, his expression embarrassed, and he shrank his head.

But soon he stuck his head out again, threatening: "Harry, you should know what this means!"

Harry took out the box and stuffed the troll's head in. "What does it mean?"

"The day we first went to see Hagrid," Ron said excitedly, "he said that he went to pick up a package for Headmaster Dumbledore on the day Gringotts was robbed."

“That’s a very precious thing.”

"Nothing else was stolen from Gringotts. The criminal must have been targeting that thing."

"And that thing is definitely hidden on the fourth floor."

Harry nodded, "Yes, you are very smart, indeed."

Ron raised his head proudly, and said complacently: "That person must be Snape. I don't know what kind of treasure it is that makes him so..."

"It's the Philosopher's Stone." Harry interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

Ron was stunned, his expression froze: "You know that thing?"

"Dumbledore told me." Harry picked up the Sorting Hat and examined it carefully. "And the one who wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone was not Professor Snape, but Quirrell."

"Quirrel?" Ron exclaimed. "How could it be him?"

"He is so timid and cowardly. He must have been coerced by Snape..."

Harry waved his hand and interrupted him: "No, there is no Professor Snape, only Quirrell. Headmaster Dumbledore and I have confirmed it."

Ron sighed, a little disappointed, "Oh, okay, but what is the Philosopher's Stone?"

"I don't know. Maybe you can ask Hermione." Harry shook his head. He valued quality over variety in reading. He almost never read things that he had no use for at the moment.

Ron had a complicated look on his face.

Clench your fists and unclench them.

Harry didn't continue talking to Ron and didn't mention a word about the agreement he had made with Dumbledore - this was not something a little wizard should have to endure.

He poked the Sorting Hat: "Speak, didn't you say you had something to tell me?"

"Taking a bath is such a painful experience." The Sorting Hat sighed, "You don't know how rude this Weasley is."

Ron muttered, "You're so dirty."

Harry said nothing, his eyes sharp.

"Put me on, Harry." The Sorting Hat relented and said softly, "I can only let you know the news of the trial."