What Harry didn't expect was that Professor Snape also had an owl deliver him two bottles of Stimulating Potion, with a note saying it was to ensure the Little Giant wouldn't miss his Magic Potion class homework.
"I should've pretended to be sick." Harry lamented to Ron, shaking the completed Magic Potion class essay in his hand.
The comforting news was that this week's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was taught by the returning Professor Lupin.
He indeed looked unwell, his old robe hung loosely on him, and there were quite noticeable dark circles under his eyes.
Even so, when the class sat down, Professor Lupin still smiled kindly at them.
And the students immediately started grumbling fiercely about what Snape had done while Lupin was sick—even the Slytherin students complained, as they, too, didn't want to write an essay.
"It's unfair; he was just filling in. Why give us homework?" they all said at once.
"We don't know what a werewolf is—" Seamus complained.
"—two rolls of parchment!" Crabbe and Gall complained in unison, winning the agreement of everyone else in the classroom—except Hermione.
"Didn't you tell Professor Snape that we hadn't learned that yet?" Professor Lupin asked, frowning slightly.
The students started talking again.
Hanna complained loudly, "We did, but he said we were too behind—"
"You know, Professor, he never listens to us," Ron quickly chimed in.
"—two rolls of parchment!" Crabbe and Gall repeated the complaint in unison again, and the students in the classroom nodded in agreement, echoing their words.
To this, Professor Lupin just gave a slight smile.
"Don't worry, I'll speak to Professor Snape, and you won't have to write that essay."
The classroom immediately erupted in cheers, with the Gryffindor students cheering the loudest.
Of course, there was one exception...
"Oh, no," Hermione groaned, holding her head, looking very disappointed, "I've already finished it..."
But no one cared about the feelings of the academic achiever. If you wanted to write it, that's your own business.
After class, Harry was informed that Professor Dumbledore was waiting for him in the Headmaster's Office.
Recently, due to his search for records about Death, Harry had been expending a lot of effort, yet to no avail.
Unavoidably, he also felt a bit drowsy, yawning even as he walked to the Headmaster's Office.
In the Headmaster's Office, not only was Dumbledore present, but also the Newts, along with Vivi and Cassandra.
After exchanging greetings, Harry dragged a chair and sat down beside them.
Everyone's expressions were very serious, especially Dumbledore, whose eyes were hidden behind half-moon glasses, making it hard to discern what he was thinking.
"Voldemort seems to have allied with Death," Dumbledore said directly.
Such an extraordinary opening line immediately seized Harry's attention.
"Allied with Death?" Harry asked doubtfully.
"Yes, Harry." Newt said, lowering his head, "At least we know now, Voldemort's summoning ritual succeeded—but which Death he summoned specifically, we don't know for now."
"Are there a lot of Deaths?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Besides the Death of the Deathly Hallows, who else is there?"
"Oh, there are many." Newt quickly replied, "For example, Voldemort previously attempted to summon Anubis. He is the Death God in Egyptian mythology, associated with the making of mummies, and serves as a guardian in the deceased's journey to the afterlife."
"He's generally depicted as a man with the head of a jackal, but sometimes described as a jackal wearing a ribbon, with a flail curved in its forearm."
"Additionally, there's Hela—she's the goddess of death in Northern European mythology, the queen of the Netherworld, Helheim, responsible for aging and disease. It's said she's the youngest child of the trickster god Loki and the giantess Angerboda, and the sister of the giant wolf Fenrir and the giant serpent Jörmungandr."
Lastly, Newt added: "Of course, there's Hades, the king of the Netherworld in Ancient Greek mythology, known as the master of the Hellhound, depicted as a majestic man constantly shifting between middle and old age, sitting on a throne, holding a scepter."
"Which Death did Voldemort summon?" Harry asked curiously.
"We don't know His true name," Newt replied honestly, shaking his head, "but you know who I'm referring to—"
Harry thought about it, and Newt should be talking about the one they commonly referred to—the Death cloaked in black, wielding a scythe.
He wondered if it had any relation to the Lady Death he had encountered in Cassandra's realm of consciousness.
If he had to give her a name, it would be "Death."
"At the very least, the information we have tells us that the young version of Tom Riddle is close to being resurrected." Dumbledore said, massaging the knuckles of his hand as he addressed everyone: "Our immediate priority is to find and destroy his Soul Artifacts—"
"How many Soul Artifacts does he have?" Cassandra asked, tilting her head.
"We don't know either, but last Christmas, Harry already destroyed a Diary." Dumbledore said.
Speaking of this Diary, Harry suddenly remembered a little story about it...
"By the way, speaking of the Diary..." Harry said to Cassandra, "He once posed as you, absorbing others' life force within Slytherin to sustain himself..."