Glen brought the two unconscious boys back to the surface.
Hermione sighed helplessly at Harry and Ron floating in the air. "I don't know whether to call them reckless or brave - sneaking down here despite Professor Dumbledore's warnings."
Glen shook his head, offering no comment.
"Let's go. We've completed Professor McGonagall's request and it's very late now," Glen said to Hermione. She nodded and they left through the broken door, the unconscious boys floating behind them.
Glen and Hermione discussed the night's events as they made their way to the eighth floor, heading toward the Gryffindor common room.
"I believe the injured should be taken to the hospital wing," came a kindly voice from behind them. The girl clearly startled, recognizing the speaker immediately.
Hermione turned mechanically, shrinking slightly behind Glen with a stiff smile. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."
The old man's twinkling blue eyes looked at Glen and Hermione on the ground and Harry and Ron floating above, his tone teasing: "Not evening anymore - it's quite early. You should say good morning."
Hermione awkwardly clutched her robes and quickly apologized, explaining everything from meeting Neville, learning of McGonagall's request, searching for the two foolish lions behind the fourth-floor corridor door, to encountering Voldemort's soul fragment.
"I'm sorry Professor! We only came out because of Professor McGonagall's request! Could you perhaps only deduct points from Harry and Ron?"
Harry and Ron: ?
Dumbledore smiled kindly: "No need to worry. I won't be taking points from any of you. In fact, I'll be awarding points for your courage. Consider this nighttime excursion overlooked." His blue eyes twinkled wisely.
"I'll take Harry and Ron to the hospital wing. You two can go rest now - don't worry about anything else," Dumbledore continued.
Glen nodded, transferring control of the floating boys to Dumbledore.
Once they were out of sight, Hermione let out a long breath, patting her chest in relief. "I knew Professor Dumbledore wouldn't be too strict. I'm so glad we didn't lose any points!"
Hermione was delighted - if they had run into Professor Snape instead of Dumbledore, they would have been doomed. Snape would certainly have ignored Glen and deducted a hundred points each from those two.
As for how many points she would have lost, that would depend on Snape's mood that day.
Glen didn't care about House points - he felt little attachment to Slytherin.
Before leaving Hermione at her dormitory, Glen cast a calming charm on her head. Her mind was still young and might be affected by tonight's events - it wouldn't do for her to have nightmares.
When Hermione looked puzzled, Glen explained his reasoning.
Hermione touched where Glen had patted her head, saying coyly: "I'm not a child, I won't have nightmares!"
Seeing no one else around, she gave Glen a tight hug: "See you tomorrow then. Good night."
"Good night."
Glen waited until Hermione entered her dormitory before leaving.
As expected, when he exited the Gryffindor common room, Dumbledore had returned to the eighth floor and was waiting by the exit, clearly there for Glen.
Glen nodded to him, and Dumbledore smiled: "Thank you for your efforts tonight. Those two children are both fine."
"The mission is complete. When will you pay the commission, Professor?" Glen asked calmly. He wasn't concerned about Harry or the Weasley boy's condition.
"...I know you're eager, but please be patient." Dumbledore was perplexed - how had Glen become so interested in money?
Perhaps he had misjudged the boy - was Glen actually greedy?
Not at all.
As an assassin, completing missions and collecting payment was natural procedure. Glen was simply following protocol.
He didn't need money - besides the potions he had sold, Hermione had the Philosopher's Stone that could turn things to gold. They would never run out of Galleons.
Seeing Glen maintain his cold expression, Dumbledore couldn't read his thoughts and changed the subject: "What's your take on Voldemort's current state?"
"He's in a fragile soul state. Without a host to possess, he poses no threat," Glen replied without hesitation.
He could sense that Voldemort's soul had already been damaged, and his Soul Concussion Spell had worsened that injury, effectively restricting Voldemort's activities.
Dumbledore looked at Glen approvingly. This young wizard was indeed special, able to perceive soul-level information.
Was it because Glen's own soul was exceptionally strong?
Dumbledore wasn't sure. Souls were the most mysterious things - not just in the Muggle world, but in the wizarding world too. Though Hogwarts had many ghosts, as did other places, this didn't mean wizards had fully understood souls.
The soul was the most vital part of life, sacred and inviolable. No one dared study it.
Dumbledore's eyes grew cold as he thought of this. Through today's secret observation, he had confirmed the method Voldemort used to escape death.
Horcruxes.
These were the most evil things, requiring murder to create.
To use Horcruxes to ensure the immortality of one's soul, one must first split their soul, then through evil rituals, sacrifice others' dying souls to merge the split soul fragment into an object or creature chosen as the Horcrux.
Creating one Horcrux meant countless innocent souls destroyed.
It was an unforgivable act!
Once made, as long as the Horcrux was preserved and the soul fragment remained intact, even if the main body suffered a fatal blow, the creator wouldn't die because part of their soul remained safe in the Horcrux.
But was this truly immortality?
No.
Souls were meant to remain whole - splitting them was an evil act against nature.
Even Dark wizards who knew of this method refused to create Horcruxes, preferring to face death.
Once split, souls became extremely unstable. Though the fragments remained connected, consciousness didn't transfer between them. Even if a soul fragment was destroyed, the main body and other fragments wouldn't feel it.
Could that still be considered one being, one soul?
Thinking of this, Dumbledore's mood plummeted. That incredibly talented wizard had ultimately chosen the dark path.
And now before him stood another talented wizard - would he too walk the dark path?
Dumbledore was amused by his own thoughts.
Impossible. Not only did the boy seem to care only about those close to him, but even if Glen wanted to turn dark, Hermione would snap him out of it.
His mood lifted - he would reward himself with extra sweets today.
"Well, I won't keep questioning you. Go get some rest, Glen," Dumbledore said with a smile, patting Glen's shoulder.
Glen had been watching Dumbledore's rich array of expressions like a drama performance, finding it puzzling.
But Glen didn't care.
Nodding to Dumbledore, Glen headed downstairs.
Only one thing occupied his mind now.
The Forbidden Forest was safe again - he could resume his combat training.
Giant spiders, trolls, and other dangerous creatures.
I'm coming.
He could barely contain himself anymore.
Actually, he would go now.
... In the Forbidden Forest ...
In the Acromantula territory, the giant spiders were bustling with activity.
Through their "tireless efforts," the Acromantula population was steadily increasing, nearly back to levels from six months ago. This greatly pleased Aragog, their leader.
He had been close to retirement when mysteriously, members of the colony began vanishing nightly at an accelerating rate. This spread fear throughout their territory, leaving all spiders anxious.
Fortunately, after months of declining numbers, the terrifying phenomenon suddenly stopped one night. This relieved much of Aragog's pressure. He immediately arranged for the colony to increase breeding efforts, rapidly expand their territory, and strengthen border defenses to make up for their losses.
Everything was improving, and Aragog could finally return to his retirement plans.
Just a bit longer maintaining this peace for the colony and I can retire, thought Aragog, unaware he was like an old general on stage covered in death flags.
Tonight, he was leisurely resting under the moonlight, enjoying the evening breeze.
But Voldemort's hasty retreat was destined to shatter the forest's peaceful routine.
In the distance, an Acromantula's agonized scream shattered Aragog's retirement dreams.
The Acromantula population was brought under control, and Glen's bloodlust was finally released.
Glen stood smiling in a pool of blood, bathed in moonlight, his dagger gleaming silver.
Excellent.
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