The fifth day of summer vacation was coming to an end. Harry Potter sat on his bed at Number 4, Privet Drive. The Dursleys had not yet finished dinner. The first two days in the house had been tense. On one hand, Uncle Vernon's family was outraged that some crazy people dared to boss them around; on the other, they were trembling in fear that these lunatics might show up. But then, Harry and his relatives reached a mutually beneficial agreement: they ignored each other. Harry spent most of his time in his room, where he also took his meals. It was more peaceful for everyone that way. Owls freely flew into his room, delivering newspapers and letters. The Daily Prophet still contained self-defense tips and hysterical reports claiming that Voldemort was constantly lurking outside wizards' homes all over the country. There were still articles about the incident at the Ministry, the largest one with a loud headline: "Harry Potter — The Chosen One?" From what was written, it became clear that Fudge's days as Minister were numbered.
Harry gazed out the window. For the past two days, that was almost all he did, hardly reacting to anything. Sirius's death at the end of the year had broken something inside him. The deep sorrow that had gripped his soul for many days had lifted on the third day of vacation, when a letter arrived from Hermione. In it, she offered him some useful advice. Starting by saying she didn't blame him for anything, she mentioned Occlumency, his urge to save everyone, and many other things. With solid arguments and logical reasoning, she urged Harry to draw the necessary conclusions. It all boiled down to a statement that he had no right to blame either Albus Dumbledore or Professor Snape. In short, if one were to skip the polite phrases and half-hints, it was clear she considered their recklessness and his inability to learn from Snape to be at fault, as much as Sirius's.
"You know how it all ended. The headmaster couldn't have foreseen that we would go to the Ministry; no one expected that from us..." was one of the first sentences in the letter. This argument—that it was all a complete surprise to Dumbledore—was the foundation for much of her reasoning...
This letter provoked a strange reaction in Harry. Before reading it, he would have agreed with most of what was said. Harry had already been relentlessly blaming himself for everything that had happened. But as he read through all these arguments... "Dumbledore didn't know..."—he knew, of course he did. His people had been guarding the Prophecy all year, except for that one day. That could have been coincidence or enemy cunning. But the headmaster knew very well that Voldemort was doing everything to push Harry to go to the Ministry, hence the Occlumency lessons... All Dumbledore had to do was hint at the danger Harry was in, and none of this would have happened.
One thought led to another—how fortunate this year had turned out for the headmaster, since the Ministry raid exposed the Dark Lord... Harry preferred not to dwell too far on such thoughts. After reading Hermione's letter, he felt anger—not the usual kind, though. This anger was cold; he wasn't fuming, clenching his fists, or imagining how he'd yell at Hermione and tell her everything he thought. No, he calmly sat down and wrote a reply. In it, with surprising eloquence, he agreed with most of what Hermione had said. He acknowledged his mistakes, adding the mirror and Snape—two ways to contact Sirius that he had forgotten. Harry did not justify himself. The first part of the letter was a confession of his own mistakes. Then he started a new paragraph: "But in one thing, Hermione, you are wrong..." He developed the idea that the headmaster knew full well that there was a risk of the Boy Who Lived being lured into the Department of Mysteries, and that the risk was great. Harry supported his claim and then dismantled the argument that Dumbledore was as innocent as a child. That's where he stopped. As he wrote, part of that icy calm left him, and the ending took on a different tone: "And finally, I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore." That's how he sent it. Three days later, having already cooled down, he realized he had once again acted rashly, but he had no intention of writing an apology.
He needed time to rethink everything. Hermione's letter and all that came with it forced him to see things differently. For five years, the headmaster of Hogwarts had been his idol, someone to rely on, someone to tell everything to, and someone who would help. But as early as the beginning of the fifth year, things like the headmaster's reluctance to make eye contact began to shake that belief. Strangely, the conversation in Dumbledore's office, where Harry had thrown a small tantrum, had temporarily restored the headmaster's standing in his eyes. But Hermione's letter seemed to expose what that conversation had hidden under the impression of the Prophecy... Now all those talks about how the truth had been hidden for his own peace of mind didn't seem convincing. The essence was simple: either him or Voldemort. Even if that were true, the Prophecy didn't change much. After the Third Task, it had already become clear that this world wasn't big enough for the two of them... Killing... It frightened Harry then, and it frightened him now, but it didn't weigh on his mind as much... It seemed, without realizing it, he had come to terms with it—perhaps even before he learned about the Prophecy. For a long time, Harry had been surprised at his own calm, until he finally found the explanation: he had already killed before! Professor Quirrell—those were his hands that had covered that man with countless burns, leading to his death. Harry had never thought about it before... He was already a killer, since the age of eleven... Strangely, that thought was comforting, as if it meant he had already crossed that line, and the idea of killing again was less daunting...
Why had he never thought about it before? In hindsight, it seemed like Dumbledore's words about Voldemort: "He left Quirrell to die..." had been the reason. As they say, the first crack breaks the stone, and once Harry started doubting his former idol, he began to reexamine his life with growing horror. The Philosopher's Stone incident—clearly orchestrated by the headmaster; all of it couldn't have been a coincidence. The Chamber of Secrets—either another skillful provocation or proof of incompetence. If students managed to solve the mystery, why couldn't the teachers or the Great Wizard? The third year... Here Harry couldn't say what was coincidence, luck, misfortune, or plan... The fourth year—again, the headmaster faltered.
For many years, the headmaster had been manipulating him... He even admitted to sending Harry to live with the Dursleys so he wouldn't grow up as a "spoiled little prince..." Who knows what other goals the dear headmaster had in mind... Strangely, Hermione's letter had played an unexpected role. She wanted to defend the headmaster, whom Harry had hardly blamed, but instead... Instead, it completely undermined the trust that Dumbledore still had in Harry's eyes.
It was upsetting, it made him angry, but once again, it quickly passed... Harry couldn't quite articulate what he felt. He hadn't even grown to hate Dumbledore, though he had reason to, but now that seemed childish. The headmaster, as sacrilegious and foolish as it sounded, probably meant well, though perhaps not specifically toward Harry, but still... Harry acknowledged that he probably wasn't ready to manage his own life, but at the same time, he represented some kind of power, and an unclaimed power wouldn't remain without a master for long... If he wanted to be taken seriously, for people to stop babying him and controlling his life, he needed to learn to take responsibility for himself. The entire fifth year, he had raged against being shielded from a war in which he was already neck-deep. He wanted access to information and trust, which, now he could admit to himself, he hadn't earned—how could anyone trust someone like him? Not to mention his connection... But still, the headmaster had admitted that much should have been explained to him. He could have been told about the risk of intrusion into his mind—Voldemort wouldn't have learned anything valuable even if he had seen through Harry's eyes. Had Harry known the full gravity of the situation, he would have studied more diligently...
It was almost eleven o'clock. Harry lay down. All these thoughts led him to one conclusion: enough playing the fool. He couldn't avoid this war, and in war, there are casualties. There were strong reasons to believe that he would have to kill. There was no running from that, no point in trying. The only thing left was to get through it, to get used to it, to prepare. From his very first year, Harry had tried his best to achieve a normal, peaceful life. It was time to accept that this was impossible. Time to start again.
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