Kapitel 27: No one expects the Spanish inquisition
With the sound of a wooden door opening and closing shut, Oleandra was flung on to Fluffy's carcass. Death did not seem to have helped with the gigantic dog's problematic body odour. In fact, it had probably accentuated it, not that Oleandra would have been able to tell. Covered in the dog's blood, she was incredibly miserable. Not caring if anyone saw her, she started trudging in the direction she hoped led to her dorm, leaving behind a trail of bloody footsteps. She was eager to draw a bath and go to sleep.
All in all, Oleandra believed she had spent upwards of a day in the other world, but time barely seemed to have passed here on Earth. It was still the middle of the night. She was starving, sleep deprived and been subjected to an amount of stress no one should ever be forced to endure.
Physically and spiritually drained, without even the strength to cast a simple Wand-Lighting charm, she wandered for a dozen minutes in the dark, until she decided to sit down for a spell to rest her weary eyes, for a minute or so. Plunged in complete darkness and utterly lost, Oleandra fell on her side, sobbing quietly to herself. Then, after a little while, her tears subsided and she lost consciousness on the cold, hard stone floor.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore, who had developed the habit of going invisible and stalking his favorite student over the Christmas vacations, was searching for Oleandra everywhere. Not that Oleandra and Daphne had known, but that evening he had been supposed to leave for the Ministry for some business, but he had never had the slightest intention of going.
He had used the Philosopher's Stone as bait to lure out his old student Tom Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort, and it had also been a chance to train his favourite Gryffindor students, which is why every step of the gauntlet had been made with first years in mind. The last challenge, the Mirror of Erised, had been the only real obstacle, for only someone who had wanted the stone without the intention of using it could have obtained it. Harry Potter was the only one who could have done so, and the penultimate challenge ensured he would be the only one to be able to cross the flames.
But somehow, two students of the least adventurous House had somehow learned of the stone and competed with the Gryffindor trio, and found a flaw in his plan twice. The first, by keeping a broom from a previous level, and the second, by simply waiting for the Fire Protection Potion to refill. Only Harry Potter was supposed to face Voldemort, because the ancient charm his mother had placed on him rendered him immune to the Dark Lord's curses.
Dumbledore had arrived just in time to take Harry Potter to the hospital wing, thankfully. The irresponsible headmaster had been watching the whole time, so he knew the Stone was destroyed, but the young lady Greengrass was just… gone. With a song and dance, she had somehow completely bypassed the school's wards and disappeared. Quite limber for his age, Dumbledore tried to imitate her, to no success.
In the meantime, he would be flooded by owls from the Ministry, begging him to come help them analyse a certain situation, but refused them all. Harry Potter was his first priority.
It was only in the morning that Professor Flitwick, following a trail of dried blood, would find Oleandra's unconscious body not far from his classroom. She would soon after be brought to the hospital wing, where she would be cleaned and changed into clean clothes and set to rest not far from Potter.
Three days later, Oleandra woke up with a start, gasping, nearly banging into Dumbledore's face, who was watching over her. She looked around; she could hear the voices of the Gryffindor trio nearby, through a screen. She looked back at Dumbledore sheepishly.
"Good afternoon, Oleandra," said Dumbledore.
He waved his hand, and suddenly she couldn't hear any sounds coming from outside.
"I thought we'd might enjoy a private conversation. Of course, if you don't feel like talking, you can always have Madam Pomfrey kick me out," he said jokingly.
Hesitatingly, she shook her head, indicating that it wouldn't be necessary.
"You-Know-Who…" she began, her voice trembling. "He was never dead?"
"I'll tell you the same thing I told Harry," he said. "Call him Voldemort. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
He paused. "Harry told me you came after him, even after he had told you there was a chance Voldemort would be there. Then, you fought bravely at Harry's side. You survived a fight with an evil that brought our country to its knees. I think you've earned the right to say his name without fear."
"Then," Oleandra began, her lip quivering. "You know I destroyed the Philosopher's Stone. It's a priceless artefact, I'll never be able to pay back its cost, and Flamel and his wife will die…"
"Aha!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "So you've also done your homework! Well, to be honest…"
He stopped abruptly. "What a strange expression," he said with a look of wonder. "It's not as if I were in the habit of lying to my students."
"Now, don't tell this to Harry, but I had the intention of destroying the stone myself, had you not done so in my place," he said, winking at her. "Though if I were you, I'd be more worried about repaying Hagrid."
"Hagrid?" she repeated, not understanding.
"Does a gigantic three-headed dog ring any bells?" Dumbledore said. "It was a rare and valuable fantastic beast. You are in the possession of some pretty interesting spells. Was it absolutely necessary to kill it?"
Oleandra racked her brains. "I had some ideas, but none that would allow my sister and I to pass unscathed. Killing it seemed like… a definitive solution."
Dumbledore simply looked at her with his piercing eyes. Years of unrestrained use of Legilimency on students had somewhat diminished his ability to read people without resorting to literally reading their thoughts. As always, Oleandra's mind was unreadable, only the hum of a thousand angry bees could be heard from her inner world.
Dumbledore did not want a repeat of Tom Riddle, a third Dark Lord would destroy magical Britain for good, this time. From his perspective, she was nothing like him. Her grades in half of her classes were nothing to write home about. She was pretty, but not in the same way that Tom had been devastatingly handsome. She was caring to her friends and family, but she could be ruthless to her enemies. She was very brave, and not very charismatic. But above all else, and he didn't need Legilimency to know this, she was extremely resourceful, she could easily manipulate people when she wanted to and she had the ambition to match. Paired with her strange magical abilities, who knows what she could achieve?
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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Rangliste 
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Stein