Harry Potter: From Baldur's Gate to Hogwarts

The joyous banquet lasted until around 1 a.m., but as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. When the festivities finally concluded and the last guests departed, even Gael disappeared in a flash of teleportation magic. Reluctantly, Harry was led away by the old man, transforming into a gust of wind. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the smooth wooden floor of the Room of Requirement.

"Ugh… I'm starving. Is there anything to eat around here?" Harry muttered, rubbing his grumbling stomach as he leaned against the wall, his legs weak, and trudged toward the Gryffindor common room. Unfortunately, he crossed paths with Professor McGonagall on patrol, and even worse, it was already well past eleven o'clock.

"Well, Mr. Potter, skipping three days of classes, staying out all night, and wandering the halls past curfew—splendid, absolutely splendid!" Professor McGonagall glared at Harry, gritting her teeth in frustration.

"Professor, I'll take the punishment, but can I at least go back to sleep first? I'm thirsty, exhausted, and starving—I'm practically dying here…"

"Follow me to Dumbledore's office first!" Professor McGonagall grabbed Harry by the collar and dragged him along. "Honestly, I've never seen a student behave as outrageously as you!"

As expected, a now-awake Dumbledore, who had just fallen asleep, was also hauled out of bed by Professor McGonagall. After ensuring that both the old headmaster and Harry were seated obediently across the desk, she cheerfully left to resume her patrol.

"Um, Professor Dumbledore," Harry cautiously raised his hand amid the growling protests of his stomach. "Before you decide on my punishment, could I have something to eat first? You know, to face it with a full stomach?"

"Oh, of course, of course! Filling one's stomach always takes precedence." Dumbledore clapped his hands lightly, and a sumptuous midnight feast appeared on the table, along with a glass of lemon sherbet.

"However," Dumbledore added with a smile, his piercing blue eyes studying Harry with keen interest, "before I send you on your way, I must admit I'm more curious about your experiences over the past two days. You see, we've nearly turned the entire school upside down looking for you."

Harry paused mid-battle with a roasted chicken leg, then tore it off with a forceful bite. "Professor, do you think gods exist? I mean, the kind of gods you hear about in mythology."

"Gods?" Dumbledore blinked. "Harry, I'm afraid there's no such thing as the gods you're imagining. Those legendary figures are likely just extraordinarily powerful wizards who surpassed ordinary comprehension."

After a moment of silence, Harry suddenly looked up. "Professor, if I'm not mistaken, you can read other people's memories, can't you?"

"…Strictly speaking, I do not read others' memories," Dumbledore said slowly, meeting Harry's gaze. "Legilimency, as it's known, is an intricate magical art that allows one to perceive thoughts, emotions, memories, sensations, and fleeting ideas in a person's mind. It's far more complex and profound than mere mind-reading."

"So, you can read memories," Harry concluded with a nod.

"Not exactly... Oh, never mind. Let's just call it memory-reading. But why are you asking, Harry?"

"You asked where I've been these past two days. Instead of telling you, wouldn't it be more convincing if you saw it for yourself?"

"As it happens, I have a method even better than Legilimency for reviewing memories." Dumbledore stood and retrieved a stone basin filled with shimmering liquid from a cabinet. He placed it on the table. "This is a Pensieve. I often use it to examine memories for details I might have overlooked. It's quite simple to use."

After explaining how to extract and deposit memories into the Pensieve, Dumbledore watched as Harry, having satisfied his hunger and thirst, skillfully extracted his memories of the past two days and deposited them into the basin.

Although Harry fast-forwarded through the less relevant parts, by the time he and Dumbledore emerged from the Pensieve, two hours had passed.

"What an extraordinary adventure," Dumbledore murmured, stroking his long beard, a complicated look gleaming behind his half-moon spectacles.

"It was, wasn't it?" Harry agreed.

"Harry, about the Heartseeker and the Heartseeker larvae you mentioned in your memories—what exactly are they?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, I don't know much about Heartseekers," Harry admitted, scratching his head. "Most of what I do know comes from Liaezer. All I can say is that when a Heartseeker larva enters someone's body—usually through the ears, nose, or eyes—it quickly consumes their brain, along with their personality and soul. Once these are completely devoured, the larva uses the host's body as its shell.

"Within a day, the host's body begins to transform, eventually turning into an adult Heartseeker. During this process, the host's tissues are gradually replaced by those of the Heartseeker. By the end, the original person is completely gone, and no magic—whether healing spells, curse removals, resurrection rituals, or restorative charms—can reverse it. Moreover, the transformed Heartseeker doesn't retain any traits or memories from the original host, nor do they inherit their gender."

"In other words," Dumbledore mused, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, "a person parasitized by a Heartseeker larva loses their soul and personality, which are replaced by a new soul and personality born from the larva?"

"Exactly. That's what intrigued the old man the most," Harry said, spreading his hands. "After I became a Heartseeker, not only did my thoughts and personality remain unchanged, but I could also eat normally, interact with others as usual, and had no interest in brains whatsoever. Other than my appearance, I'm practically no different from a normal person."

"I have a theory about that, Harry," Dumbledore said after a pause. "But now's not the time to test it." He glanced at the clock. "It's late. You should head back to rest; you still have classes tomorrow."

"And my punishment, Professor?" Harry asked as he reached the door.

"Given the unusual circumstances this time… Gryffindor will lose 20 points. As for detention, we'll skip it. Just don't skip class again tomorrow."

"Got it."

As Harry opened the door, Dumbledore called after him. "Harry, remember, the Room of Requirement is just a space created by advanced spatial magic and Transfiguration. Don't place too much faith in it. And, please, keep your visit to the other world a secret from others."

"Understood."

"Oh, one more thing," Dumbledore added, his tone lighter. "Your makeup sessions for Transfiguration and Charms are scheduled for this Saturday morning and afternoon, respectively, in Professor McGonagall's and Professor Flitwick's offices. You know where those are—after all, you've 'visited' them before."

"…Right. Got it."

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