"Hey, what're you reading?" Hermione asked, peeking at the text in the tome I held.
"Interaction of alchemically purified gold with various runic matrices under different conditions, depending on the shape carved, location of extraction, moon's phase, and the magic required," I replied in a monotone, my eyes still scanning the lunar phases on the page. I'd been stuck on this section for about ten minutes, and with each reread, I only grew more impressed by the author's expertise.
"A what? Is that some subtopic of Alchemy? Why are you reading about Alchemy?" Hermione fired off rapidly, and I rolled my eyes.
"It's one of the few subjects that intersects Alchemy, Runes, Arithmancy, and Enchanting," I explained, briefly turning the book toward her to show the title. "This is an Arithmancy book," I added before returning to my reading.
"Ah… okay..." Hermione muttered, turning her attention to Ron, who was sulking over his plate of food. "Ron, what happened today?"
"Nothing," Ron mumbled broodingly, a small frown creasing his forehead.
Curious, I looked up. "Why the long face? Everything alright?"
"Well… it-it's…" he stammered, looking almost embarrassed. "The Yule Ball," he finally blurted out.
"Ah—you haven't found a date yet?" Hermione asked gently, her tone cautious, as if trying not to provoke him.
"Uh-huh..." he muttered while shoveling food into his mouth, moving his fork aimlessly. "The Yule Ball is only three bloody days away!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with frustration.
I rolled my eyes. Ron will always be Ron. "Have you asked anyone yet?"
That question immediately transformed his expression from annoyance to embarrassment, his face flushing scarlet to match his hair. "Well… you–you know… I…"
"Seriously, Ronald? You haven't even asked anyone and you're sulking?" Hermione said, incredulous.
"Oh come on, I thought—" Ron started, then his eyes lit up as if he'd just had an epiphany. "Hey, wait a second! Hermione, you're a girl, right?"
I burst into laughter while Hermione's face twisted in anger. "Yes, Ronald, thank you for noticing," she snapped sarcastically. "Yes, I am, in fact, a girl!"
Ron, now trembling under her glare, meekly asked, "So… will you?"
"For your information, no," Hermione huffed, then smiled smugly. "I've already agreed to go with someone else." She shot Ron a pointed look. "Unlike you, others actually realize I'm a girl."
"Oh come on, you're joking," Ron groaned, glancing at me as if for confirmation. I didn't indulge him. "Who even asked you?"
Hermione's cheeks flushed red, clearly nearing her breaking point. "Well, that's none of your business, is it? You'll find out at the Ball."
I tried to intervene, hoping to lighten the mood. "I know who she's going with."
"What, someone actually asked her?" Ron blurted incredulously.
Hermione heard him and snapped, "Yes, Ronald, someone did ask me."
"Wait, how do you know?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Oh, you know," I said with a playful grin, "I have my ways."
She picked up her Charms textbook and swatted my shoulder, making me cringe.
"Violent women," I muttered, then turned back to Ron. "Anyway, Ron, you need to ask someone before the Ball. There are still plenty of girls left. Just do it… Even Neville's already asked someone."
"Wait, what? Who?" Ron asked, startled. Then, after a pause, he turned to me. "Have you asked anyone yet?"
Hermione also gave me a curious look. I don't think anyone knew who my date was.
"Of course I have. I asked her the day after the announcement," I said cryptically, keeping Fleur's identity a secret.
"And who's 'her'?" Hermione asked eagerly.
"That, my friend," I said with a teasing smile, "is for me to know and you to find out." I grabbed my bag and darted out of the Great Hall.
"Hey, mate, come on, come back," Ron called, almost pleading, clearly not wanting to be left alone with an irate Hermione.
"You'll have to ask Padma Patil yourself," I shouted back, loud enough for Padma to hear as she started blushing. I shot a quick wink at both Ron and Hermione before slipping out through the giant doors of the Great Hall.
The days had begun to grow rather monotonous. Magic is a marvelous thing—so full of wonder and excitement. But the depth of knowledge required to wield it with the mastery of the Magical Titans—Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Voldemort, Slytherin, and the like—was immense. And I needed to reach that level quickly. But for that, I needed so much knowledge.
The more I learned, the more I realized how little I knew—and how much Dumbledore did. Every subject I touched, I could recall Dumbledore dabbling in it, at least once. With his age, he must have explored countless fields. He was truly a behemoth... and someone to be wary of.
"Oh, Harry," a familiar voice broke my thoughts, warm and friendly. I stiffened internally. "How are you, my boy?" His tone was pleasant, with an odd undertone of pride. Pride? Why would he feel proud of me? Strange.
"Ah, Professor Dumbledore, I didn't see you there," I said, adopting a light, apologetic tone.
He waved off my apology with a twinkle in his eye. "Oh, it's quite alright, my boy. Sometimes our thoughts can blind us to what is right in front of us." His words, cryptic as ever, floated in the air. His white beard gleamed, reminiscent of snow glowing under a bright sun.
"Well, I must've been quite lost in thought not to notice you," I replied with a chuckle, though inwardly, I felt uneasy. How hadn't I noticed him? His aura is unmistakable, his presence commanding. And his eccentric clothing should've made him impossible to miss. Was I really that distracted?
He chuckled softly. "So, how are you, my boy?" His voice, as wise as always, now carried a hint of curiosity. "Your performance in the first task was exemplary... and then protecting the French Ministry guests from that dragon—quite remarkable. Have you been training?"
"Well, you know, Professor," I began, instinctively tightening my Occlumency shields, "after last year—the Dementor attack—and then before this year started... the World Cup..." I trailed off. "It felt like I should take learning defensive and offensive magic more seriously."
"Quite right, Harry," he said with a tone of approval, though tinged with a hint of sadness. "It is good to be curious about magic. I can tell that even if your focus began with offense and defense, you're now delving into other fields." His smile widened, and his sapphire-blue eyes twinkled brightly, almost glowing—a testament to his restrained power.
"Well, learning magic is fun when done properly," I said simply, nodding in agreement.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, but then, with a serene smile, added, "just don't forget to maintain your friendships and enjoy your youth. These days never return, you know?" His words were gentle, but his eyes had tightened slightly, and I felt a subtle shift in his demeanor. I tensed.
He was staring at my forehead.
Oh no. The scar—it was lighter. I had removed the Horcrux.
"Your scar," Dumbledore said, his voice suddenly serious. His gaze lingered on it, and he raised a hand toward me. I instinctively took a step back. Unbothered, he calmly drew his wand and, with a soft flick, touched the tip to my scar. I felt a faint hum of magic as he murmured a few words.
"Miraculous..." he whispered under his breath, his tone filled with quiet awe.
"Harry," he said, withdrawing his wand and looking at me with newfound intent, "walk with me to my office."
The walk to his office felt both surprisingly short and impossibly long, a strange contradiction. Dumbledore hummed softly to himself the entire way, the familiar but indecipherable tune filling the silence between us. It was oddly comforting yet unsettling at the same time, as if he was trying to put me at ease while my mind raced, anticipating the conversation to come. Every step felt like the calm before a storm, and I couldn't shake the sense that something monumental was about to happen.
"You first, Harry," he said, opening the door to his office and gesturing for me to enter. I climbed down the stairs and stepped inside, with Dumbledore following behind. He motioned for me to take a seat in the chair opposite his desk. I settled in, and after a moment, he joined me.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Dumbledore broke it. "Sherbet lemon?"
All the tension in my body dissipated, and with a chuckle, I picked up one of the yellow-orange candies. My eyes wandered around the office until they landed on Fawkes' golden stand, which was empty.
"Fawkes has decided to take a tour of the Caribbean," Dumbledore said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a bird to take a holiday. "He is a free spirit; he does whatever he wishes."
"Of course," I replied with a small smile. After a few more seconds, I asked, "So this is about my scar?"
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said, his expression turning serious. "You see, your scar was not a simple mark. It is a byproduct of one of the most strange and curious events. It happened because of the Killing Curse rebounding and striking Voldemort."
I nodded gravely. "I understand," I said, my mind racing to formulate a good explanation—half-truths, no lies… He could probably sense lies. But half-truths would work. "You see… after I returned to Hogwarts this year…"
"Yes?" Dumbledore prodded, believing my hesitation stemmed from discomfort. "What happened after that, Harry?"
"I wanted to learn magic—anything and everything…" I said, looking down. "But my mind was distracted. I wasn't able to concentrate, so I…"
"Occlumency," Dumbledore said, impressed. "You learned it yourself… Impressive." He stroked his long silver beard, his eyes momentarily lost in thought. He gestured for me to continue.
"Well, yeah… So I found out about Mind Magic in the library…" I continued, then added, "But I felt an external resistance, as if something or someone was blocking me."
Dumbledore's eyes widened, his face grave.
"So I researched the library and found two solutions that could fix it…"
"Two solutions?" He asked, horrified. "You found them from past precedents?" His head shook slightly in disbelief.
"Well, yes… I did it after being selected for the task, when I fully accepted that, with this blockage, I wouldn't be able to compete in the tournament properly…" I explained, finally revealing, "Ritus Exsolvo Umbrae and a Cleansing Ritual."
"Ritus Exsolvo Umbrae… That's a strong ritual… not the worst one. It can help remove dark magic, curses, dark influences, and souls…" Dumbledore trailed off softly.
"Yes… Soul…" I said, staring intently at him, knowing that I was about to gain significant leverage. I would guilt-trip him in this life until he knocked on the doors of the House of Hades.
He looked down, a sliver of remorse flickering in his eyes as he realized I knew about the soul that once resided in my forehead. "So what happened… and what magical catalyst did you…?" His eyes widened in horror. "You used the…"
"Basilisk," I nodded unyieldingly.
A tense silence filled the chamber, only broken by the rhythmic tick-tock of the large clock hanging on the wall.
"I died after drinking the liquid," I said after a while, letting him process the information. The look on his face was a mix of horror and concern, his eyes wide, devoid of their usual twinkle, and even his beard seemed a little grayer.
"Died?" Dumbledore asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "But…"
"The story of the Three Brothers… it's true. Death is real," I said. Knowingly, I gazed into his eyes and flicked my eyes toward his wand, signaling that I knew. "I also keep my cloak in this ring now, because of that revelation…"
"You met…" Dumbledore said, almost disbelieving, "Death?" After a few seconds, he spoke again, "You met Death?" His palm met his forehead as he leaned against the table for support. "What did Death say?"
"Many things, most of which I would rather not disclose," I replied cryptically, playing Dumbledore's own game with him. "But what I can say is—Horcrux. I was a Horcrux. The diary was a Horcrux."
Dumbledore's eyes closed, a sad, melancholic expression crossing his face, a few lone tears escaping. "I am sorry, Harry."
His apology didn't move me. I knew he was sorry. But he had treated me poorly, making far too many mistakes, starting from leaving me with Petunia. "Saying, 'I forgive you' is easy; I won't do that. You raised me to be a lamb for slaughter. You must have figured out about the Horcrux after my second year if you hadn't already before that."
"Everything was too risky…" Dumbledore said weakly. "I was quite certain that you were a Horcrux… But finding a way to remove it—something guaranteed—I couldn't discover."
"Well, I'm not a Horcrux now," I replied, meeting his gaze challengingly. "I believe you've checked that already."
"Yes, you made a risky decision—one that I could have never brought myself to make," he acknowledged, his voice regaining some steadiness. "And you succeeded."
"Seven."
"I see…" Dumbledore said, understanding the implication.
"Voldemort himself is the eighth."
He nodded.
"Three are gone."
"Three?" Dumbledore's face suddenly lifted, locking eyes with mine.
"I found Ravenclaw's Diadem in the Room of Requirement."
"I have failed you, my boy… I have failed you immensely," Dumbledore said, moisture gathering in his eyes. "I wished for you to live your childhood and teenage years, and in that pursuit, I destroyed them both…"
He silently pushed his chair back and walked toward the library in his office. After a moment, he returned with three books. "Take these; they will help you."
I glanced at the books. One was a journal—Dumbledore's Journal on Transfiguration. The second was a book on defensive and offensive spells, and the last was… Horcrux, Voldemort's diary. My eyes widened, and I looked back at him.
"These two will assist you," he said, pointing to the first two. "And perhaps this will help you understand what keeps Voldemort from dying," he added, his voice still slightly shaky.
"Thank you," I replied softly. After a few seconds, I added, "This doesn't mean I forgive you."
He offered a sad smile. "Those who forgive are strong. Those who burn with revenge are evil. But what of those who don't forgive yet don't let their anger consume them?"
"I'd say they are practical."
Dumbledore let out a sad chuckle. After a moment, he spoke again. "You've given me a lot to think about, Harry. You can go now. Rest. The Yule Ball is coming soon. Enjoy it."
I shifted the chair back and stood up, giving him a final nod before leaving his chamber, leaving Dumbledore to his own thoughts. Personally, that went far better than I could have hoped. I managed to withhold too much about myself and my knowledge, successfully guilt-tripped him, and made him see me as more than just a kid. Most importantly, I had guided him in the right direction for hunting Horcruxes.
Author's Note: So, I hope everyone is doing okay. This chapter is a little more tense and dialogue heavy. Actually, many of my last few chapters have been dialogue heavy... Well, next chapter will probably be Yule ball... I will try to write and upload by tomorrow or day after tomorrow. So, no worries.
Hopefully everyone likes this chapter. I am actually a little scared because I don't know why, but I didn't like it much... So yeah... I like the Action scenes, and HArry Fleur interactions more... And i am terrible at writing those... Anyways, tell me if you find a mistake.