Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy-Chapter 286

It suddenly dawned on them that perhaps the person Ominis Gaunt was referring to was his old classmate from a hundred years ago—Harry Potter.

Dumbledore turned his head, glancing at Harry.

He knew the truth: the Harry in the room was indeed the one from a century ago. But he wasn’t sure whether Harry wanted to keep that secret.

"Haha, Dumbledore thought he was looking for you," Ron said to Harry with a grin. "But I reckon Mr. Ominis Gaunt is talking about that classmate from a hundred years ago, don’t you think, Harry?"

"Is it possible," Harry replied in a low voice, "that he’s looking for me?"

When it came to this, Harry had never hidden anything from Hermione or Ron.

There wasn’t much to hide, really. The problem was that neither Hermione nor Ron believed he was the legendary wizard from a hundred years ago.

"Looking for you?" Ron blinked, still processing. "Why would he be looking for you? Don’t tell me you actually know him?"

"Is it possible," Harry said, patting Ron’s shoulder, "that I am that Harry from a hundred years ago? I told you this two years ago, remember?"

Ron froze at Harry’s words.

"Come on, mate," he said with a nervous chuckle. "You can’t be that Harry. Everyone knows that was a hundred years ago..."

Sirius, overhearing the conversation between his godson and Ron, wasn’t deliberately eavesdropping—it was just that he was standing too close to avoid it. He assumed Harry was just teasing his friend, much like James used to tease him.

Harry said nothing more and stepped toward Ominis’s portrait.

He was curious. Ominis was blind, so why did his portrait have clear, seeing eyes? Could a portrait really restore what was lost?

"Harry?" Ominis’s voice came from the portrait, tinged with surprise and delight.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. What was going on? Did Mr. Gaunt actually know Harry?

No way...

Could it be?

"It’s been a while, Ominis," Harry said with a smile. "I heard about what you did for Anne. I’ve found Sebastian—he’s in Azkaban, but he’s not doing well. He’s become a ghost."

"I had a feeling," Ominis replied, his tone calm, showing neither anger nor sorrow.

He smiled faintly and asked, "So, tell me about you. Have Miss Grindelwald and Miss Malfoy found you yet? I remember how devastated they were after you disappeared—especially Miss Malfoy. She was practically..."

"Shut up!" Cassandra’s face flushed slightly as she stepped forward, cutting Ominis off before he could say more.

She couldn’t let him blabber on—what if he revealed something embarrassing?

"Oh, it seems you’ve made it to a hundred years in the future, Miss Malfoy," Ominis said, surprised. "As your old classmate, allow me to congratulate you. And I assume Miss Grindelwald has found a way as well, hasn’t she? She was always quite resourceful."

"She’s here," Harry said, glancing back at Veratia. "You’re as sharp as ever, Ominis. But I didn’t expect... your eyes. They’re healed?"

"It’s nothing miraculous," Ominis said with a chuckle. "When they painted my portrait, they simply gave me normal eyes. Paint a blind man with seeing eyes, and the portrait won’t be blind."

Harry hadn’t known portraits could work that way.

He wondered if, when he became a portrait one day, he’d still be nearsighted.

Sirius, listening nearby, was utterly baffled. His dog brain felt like it was overheating.

What in Merlin’s name was going on?

After listening for a while, he pieced together a rough picture. Could his dear godson actually be... a classmate of this ancient Gaunt fellow?

No way.

Sirius distinctly remembered his great-grandfather—also named Sirius Black—idolizing a senior named Harry Potter...

What?!

He could write a book about this. He even had the title: My Godson Was My Great-Grandfather’s Idol.

Snape, meanwhile, stared expressionlessly at Harry and the portrait of the Slytherin elder. No one could guess what stories lay behind his impassive face.

Ron was the most shocked. How could his bunkmate, his approachable, down-to-earth best mate, have such a mind-blowing secret identity that would make even Merlin gasp?

Hermione, on the other hand, was thrilled—though it was a complicated kind of thrill. She was stunned that Harry was the legendary wizard from a century ago, but at the same time, it confirmed she wasn’t incompetent. Losing to Harry in exams wasn’t her fault—it was fate. After all, he was the legendary wizard who’d come to Hogwarts for a second go. If he, of all people, couldn’t outshine a Muggle-born witch like her, that legendary title would be worthless.

It’d be as humiliating as Voldemort getting outdone by a baby in a one-on-one.

"I’ve been looking for you for a long time," Harry said to Ominis’s portrait. "Not long ago, Professor Dumbledore and I went to the Gaunt manor, searching for traces of Voldemort. We found nothing, except Morfin Gaunt mentioned that your portrait was taken by him."

"Oh, Morfin," Ominis said, shaking his head with a smile. "My nephew... quite peculiar, and a bit mad. A textbook case of inbreeding, I’m afraid. I picked up that phrase from some Muggle ’scientist.’ But about Morfin—I have something important to tell you."

"What is it?" Harry asked eagerly.

"You probably know Morfin had a ring," Ominis said, closing his eyes as if recalling a distant memory. "That ring belonged to my cousin, Marvolo Gaunt, passed down through the Gaunt family from our ancestors. But the ring itself isn’t what matters—it’s the black gemstone set in it."

"A black gemstone?" Harry echoed, not recalling anyone mentioning a gemstone on the ring.

"Yes," Ominis said. "That gemstone is none other than one of the Deathly Hallows—the Resurrection Stone."

His calm words sent a shockwave through the room.

The Resurrection Stone...

"What’s the Resurrection Stone?" Ron asked, clueless as ever.

Hermione shot him a look but patiently explained, "The Resurrection Stone is a legendary gift from Death to the second Peverell brother. It’s said Death picked up a black, translucent stone by a river and gave it to him, claiming it could bring back the dead. The Resurrection Stone, along with the Elder Wand and the Invisibility Cloak, are known as the Deathly Hallows."

She added, "The Invisibility Cloak we use is one of those Hallows. And if I’m not mistaken, the wand in Professor Dumbledore’s hand is the Elder Wand, isn’t it?"

"Yes, Hermione," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile, though he seemed distracted, as if something else had caught his attention.

"The Resurrection Stone?" Sirius stepped closer to Ominis’s portrait, his voice urgent. "Mr. Gaunt, do you know where it is?"

"This is my godfather, Sirius Black," Harry introduced.

"Hello, Mr. Black," Ominis said politely, nodding slightly. "I’m sorry, but I don’t know where the ring is now."

Seeing everyone’s eyes on him, Ominis continued, "As far as I know, that ring was turned into a Horcrux by my great-nephew... or, as you call him, Voldemort. He likely hid it in some secret location."

"The Resurrection Stone is a Horcrux?!" Sirius’s face twisted as if he’d swallowed a fly.

Snape, too, began grinding his teeth.

"I never would’ve guessed the Dark Lord had the same disgusting habits as a dog, marking his territory everywhere," Snape drawled sarcastically.

His jab at Voldemort inadvertently caught someone else in the crossfire—perhaps hitting Sirius and the Marauders was encoded in Snape’s DNA.

But he wasn’t wrong. Voldemort did have some serious issues.

It wasn’t just the Resurrection Stone. Hufflepuff’s Cup and Slytherin’s Locket had fallen victim to his schemes. As for Ravenclaw’s Diadem, it was still unconfirmed, but... it probably wasn’t safe either.

The challenge before Dumbledore was how to destroy the Horcruxes without ruining the artifacts themselves—a daunting task.

Lupin let out a chuckle, leaning toward Sirius and whispering, "You’ve got to admit, Padfoot, he’s got a point."

Sirius’s face turned as purple as an eggplant. Snape’s barb was bad enough, but Lupin’s betrayal was the real blow.

Lupin didn’t think he was betraying anyone—just having a bit of fun.

"It seems we now know of five Horcruxes," Dumbledore said, pausing to reflect. "Aside from Voldemort’s diary, which has already been destroyed, there’s Hufflepuff’s Cup, which is currently in Mr. Flamel’s alchemical workshop."

He continued, "Then there’s Slytherin’s Locket, which seems to be the primary vessel Voldemort is currently tied to."

It almost sounded like Voldemort was a hermit crab, scuttling around with his Horcrux shell.

"And, of course, the missing Resurrection Stone and the yet-to-be-confirmed Ravenclaw’s Diadem..."

The Diadem was just a theory, based on the fact that Voldemort had already turned two of the Founders’ relics—Slytherin’s Locket and Hufflepuff’s Cup—into Horcruxes.

As for Gryffindor’s Sword, a coward like Voldemort would never get his hands on it.

"If Ravenclaw’s Diadem is indeed a Horcrux," Veratia spoke up, "that leaves two unknown Horcruxes. Our next steps are not only to destroy the known ones but to find those two as well."

"Regarding the Horcruxes, I think Ominis might know something," Harry said, turning to the portrait.

Ominis chuckled. "You know me well, Harry," he said. "I do know a few of Voldemort’s secrets. For instance... I know he hid Ravenclaw’s Diadem, which he made into a Horcrux, in the Room of Requirement. And the Gaunt family ring—the one with the Resurrection Stone—he hid in the tomb of Gellert Grindelwald."

"Grindelwald’s tomb?!" Harry asked, stunned.

"Yes," Ominis nodded. "Voldemort somehow recruited a colony of Acromantulas. He set them to breed in Grindelwald’s tomb, guarding the Resurrection Stone Horcrux to ensure no one could steal it."

"Thank you, Ominis!" Harry said, elated. "You’ve been a huge help—"

"You’re welcome," Ominis said, his tone turning solemn. "It’s the least I could do. After all, I was the one who told Voldemort some of the methods for creating Horcruxes."

"Why would you tell him that, Mr. Gaunt?" Ron asked naively.

"Oh, child," Ominis said, shaking his head. "You don’t fully grasp Voldemort’s evil. If I hadn’t cooperated, he would’ve destroyed my portrait—or worse, the tomb where Anne is hidden."

"He knows where Anne is hiding?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"No, I never told him," Ominis said, shaking his head. "But if he used dark magic to extract memories from a portrait, do you think he’d hesitate?"

That made sense. Everyone nodded in understanding.

It wasn’t Ominis’s fault. Even if he hadn’t told Voldemort, the Dark Lord would likely have figured out Horcruxes on his own in a year or two.

"It’s not your fault, Ominis," Harry said softly. "We all know how evil Voldemort is. But Anne... how is she now?"

"She’s doing fine," Ominis said lightly. "Her body is frozen in time, so the dark curse can’t progress. But I must warn you—if you try to free her, you’ll need to cure her curse first. Otherwise... I fear releasing her could cause the curse to spread further."

"I understand," Harry said, nodding solemnly.

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