They, along with his belongings, were transported directly to the Great Hall through a Portkey. Harry thought he should later ask the Headmaster how this aligned with the rule that transportation within the school was impossible. He would have asked now, but the Headmaster did not seem ready for conversation.
"Harry, I would like to ask you to wait for about half an hour; I need to handle matters related to this attack and the pursuit of Nagemnikus. It shouldn't take long, the password to my office is Sharp Caramels."
"All right, Professor." Dumbledore briskly headed for the exit. "Wait!" Harry called after him. "What's the password for the Gryffindor common room?"
"Strength and Honor." The answer came from the other side as an astonished McGonagall approached. "Mr. Potter, may I ask what you're doing in the school…" Only then did she notice the departing Headmaster and Harry's companion.
"It's a very long story, Professor McGonagall," Harry answered politely but evasively. "Professor Dumbledore and I agreed to meet in his office in half an hour to clarify some details." Her face fell, and then she nodded, realizing it meant she'd get no details from him and would have to ask the Headmaster herself.
Harry and his new, or perhaps still unknown, companion reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was rather surprised by their appearance but acknowledged the password and opened the way. They brought his things into the common room and decided to leave them there for the time being. That took them about fifteen minutes. Glancing at each other, they went to the Stone Gargoyle, with the girl mostly following him; Harry noticed she rarely took her eyes off him.
"Why do you keep looking at me?" he finally asked as they neared their destination.
"I don't know... I didn't notice I was doing it... But, yes... watching you..." She hesitated, trying to explain, then gave up. "I don't know; it happens on its own."
The password convinced the stone guardian to let them in. The office was empty, so they took two chairs under the attentive gaze of the former Headmasters in their portraits. Phineas Nigellus, seeing Harry, held back any comment and simply left his portrait. Harry and his companion settled in, and it soon became apparent they weren't entirely alone: there was a flap of wings as Fawkes landed on the back of the girl's chair. After a few seconds of examining her, the bird flew to her shoulder.
"Strange," she said, carefully stroking the phoenix. "I thought he was usually more cautious and selective..."
"Yes, I don't remember him sitting on someone's shoulder right away," confirmed Harry, no longer surprised by her knowledge. If, as she claimed, she knew everything he knew, then she must know about the Headmaster's phoenix.
They waited in silence as Harry looked around the office, trying to spot any evidence of the damage he'd once caused. Everything was in perfect order; even the delicate instruments he had broken were in place, either repaired or replaced. He recalled that conversation with the Headmaster with a sense of shame. He didn't regret yelling but recognized that he had acted foolishly. Still, it had allowed him to vent his pent-up emotions.
The office door opened, and they both turned; the Headmaster had returned, looking with some surprise at his bird perched on the girl's shoulder. She and Harry shrugged in unison, as if to say they had no idea why he was so friendly. The Headmaster nodded, went around his desk, and heavily sank into his favorite chair, looking quite exhausted, which alarmed Harry. Could that fight in the Ministry have taken such a toll on Albus Dumbledore?
"I apologize again for making you wait. I had to pressure the Minister, who was already ready to broadcast to the world that a Death Eater had been captured (that's Nagemnikus, of course). And when Cornelius learned what had happened while his Aurors were hunting my man, he almost had a heart attack…"
"Probably won't remain Minister for long," Harry noted without a trace of sympathy. "Professor, do you think…"
"Let's not talk about it, Harry. All last year we fought the Ministry instead of Voldemort. I'd rather not interfere in their affairs now."
"All right, sorry, Professor."
"So, I would like to hear what happened to you... to both of you," he corrected himself, glancing at the girl. Fawkes had already flown from her shoulder to his chair.
Harry began to recount everything that had happened in detail; this time felt different from previous times. After his battle with the basilisk, from which Harry emerged victorious, it was unlikely that everything he was telling was new to the Headmaster. During his fourth year, right after the cemetery, things had also been different—though the Headmaster didn't know what Harry was recounting then, Harry himself had been on the verge of hysteria. Now, however, sitting in a comfortable armchair, he calmly described his entire aspirin-seeking adventure, trying not to leave out any details. He was interrupted for the first time when he mentioned the disguised Death Eater.
"Could you describe him?"
"Well…" Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I only looked at him for a second and wasn't in the right frame of mind to remember his face… I ran immediately, but for some reason, I remember his clothes. As for his face… I only recall his gaze… I'd recognize him if I saw him again, but otherwise… Sorry…" He spread his hands.
"No worries, I don't blame you. Please continue."
Harry went on, describing how he fled, narrowly crossed the road in front of a truck, and how his pursuer ended up beneath it. Dumbledore frowned.
"The Ministry officials, including Nymphadora, arrived on the scene, but they didn't find anyone… Nor did the Muggles… If he was indeed thrown twenty meters… that's not something anyone could survive. Although, the investigators only arrived two hours later, so perhaps someone had taken him. Go on."
The story continued uninterrupted. Harry recounted how he nearly made it home before falling into an ambush. After that, things got muddled, and Harry realized he only vaguely remembered what happened once "Imperius" had been cast on him. Yet, the same girl helped him, her fragmented memories filling in some gaps, enabling them to piece together a reasonably clear account. He described how he was coerced into a corner and lit a fire, how the Dementors closed in, one nearly administering a kiss. Then Harry recalled something coming out of him, struggling to resist when the Dementor was very close. Finally, he described the Killing Curse striking the demon, piercing it, changing color, and hitting the fire. The Headmaster listened intently, occasionally nodding but asking nothing. Then it was the girl's turn; she repeated everything she had already told Harry. By the end of her tale, the Headmaster leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Silence fell for five minutes before Harry couldn't contain himself.
"Professor? Do you know what happened? Can you explain all this?"
"I don't know, Harry… Let's say I have a theory… If there's any truth to it, this is an unprecedented case. I have neither heard nor read of anything like this… For now, let's check something." The Headmaster seemed to reach a decision; he rose from his desk, walked to a distant cabinet, and began rummaging through it. After half a minute, he turned around, holding a small, finely crafted silver mirror. "Harry, I'd like you to look into it."
Harry, having no idea why this was necessary, obediently took the offered mirror and looked into it. His reflection appeared perfectly normal, and he returned the mirror to the Headmaster, only noticing at the last moment that his image had stayed still. The Headmaster scrutinized the mirror, more precisely, Harry's frozen reflection, with a faint frown, then shook his head as if his expectations hadn't been met. He then handed the mirror to the girl, who looked at it and recoiled in fright; the Headmaster quickly took it back. This was the first time Harry saw Albus Dumbledore genuinely astonished; whatever was there surprised even him. Harry stood up to see as well, leaning over the Headmaster's shoulder. The mirror indeed showed something odd. The girl's face was partially black-and-white, with color remaining only around her forehead, spreading over the rest of her face like thin streams. Harry blinked in confusion; it was certainly strange, but he didn't understand what had so astonished the usually unflappable Headmaster. Harry and the girl both looked questioningly at the now deeply pensive Headmaster. Realizing this, he snapped out of his reverie.
"Yes… Well, Harry, this does somewhat confirm my theory, but it appears to be even more incredible and inexplicable than I thought…"
"Professor," Harry said irritably, growing tired of the riddles. "Can you tell me directly? What's this mirror?"
"This mirror shows the integrity of the soul, but explaining all this is challenging…" The Headmaster clasped his fingers before his face and sighed. "Alright, again, this is only a theory. I can't account for all the facts. Generally… as I understand it, a Dementor nearly administered its kiss to you, Harry…"
"The feeling wasn't pleasant…" Harry shuddered. "Although all my senses were dulled at the time."
"Yes… As you mentioned, something was leaving your body, only to be drawn back. You know what Dementors extract…"
"You're saying… It tried to steal my soul?! But then…"
"No, but it may have begun to do so just as it was destroyed. I can't be sure; nothing like this has ever happened before, as far as I know. No one has survived when the Kiss has progressed this far. This case is unprecedented; you've achieved the impossible once more, Harry."
"Lucky again…"
"We've discussed this before, my boy. Now, you mentioned that a green beam pierced the Dementor and changed color. I can tell you that this is highly unusual. It's not the first time the Killing Curse has been used against these creatures; typically, they die in a manner similar to humans, with the curse stopping upon impact. For the Killing Curse to change color is believed to be impossible; that's why it's Unforgivable, and Deadly—it's unaffected and unalterable."
"Then what happened?" the girl eagerly asked.
"I don't know," the Headmaster replied simply, looking increasingly unsettled. "Maybe it was a genuine miracle, or an unknown combination of factors, which could also be called a miracle. But one thing is sure—something unprecedented happened. Given this impossibility, there might have been more. Let's assume the creature managed to take a minute, minuscule part of your soul, Harry. It was then destroyed, and the beam, for unknown reasons, didn't stop but continued. Perhaps it carried that fragment with it. No one has heard of anything like this, but let's assume. And then the beam struck the fire. I won't go into details, but there are documented cases of wizards placing parts of their souls outside their bodies. In this case, things are different, but still…"
"You're suggesting that I emerged from this soul fragment?" the girl asked in a cracking voice. "But then, why…" She gestured vaguely at her distinctly female form, which also didn't make sense in terms of its origin.
"It's just a theory… It explains a lot, like your memories. I don't know how you came to be; I've never heard of anything remotely similar. If I'm right… Fire… It's been humanity's first ally, a source of power for both wizards and Muggles. Here, a soul fragment was placed into it… With magic, one can create material objects, even a human body…" The Headmaster spread his hands, signaling he had no further explanation.
"But if this is true, does it mean I lost part of my soul… What could that mean for me?"
"And that's the most unbelievable part, Harry! Your soul is whole! That's what the mirror showed—that your soul is completely intact!"
"But doesn't that completely invalidate your theory?"
"Possibly, but perhaps not. There are so many assumptions about what's impossible in my reasoning that it's plausible your soul, divided against your will, has now healed itself. In principle, that's not so incredible and happens in cases of minor soul injuries. But usually, it takes years… What's more, something similar is happening with the young lady here. It seems that her soul, recently tiny and incomplete, is now growing. That's what the mirror showed. Believe me, this is equally unprecedented; many would say impossible…"
They continued talking, repeating the same arguments in different ways. In the end, she believed it, while Harry allowed himself to be convinced more quickly, as the theory explained other things, such as the girl's resemblance to those he'd liked…
"What should I do?" she sobbed, glancing at Harry again.
"To be honest… I don't know," the Headmaster admitted, spreading his hands. "I'd like to say I understand what you're going through, but truthfully, I can't. I'm certain this isn't over. In matters like these, side effects are unavoidable—consequences unknown to us. I think it's best for you to stay at the school."
"It's not like I have anywhere else to go…" She held back tears as Harry looked at her helplessly, not knowing what to do.
"You know…" The Headmaster stood up suddenly, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. "I think what you need most of all is rest. Tomorrow morning, things will seem clearer. You'll calm down, and I'm sure you'll see some positives in all this…"
"What positives?"
"I think you'll understand it yourself once you've had some time to recover. I would recommend you spend the night in the Hospital Wing, but I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey is on vacation. I'll arrange for a bed to be ready for you in Gryffindor Tower. And I think you and Harry should stay close to each other, considering your... kinship, it may be necessary..."
As they left, Harry supported the still-sobbing girl. He was absolutely certain that the headmaster hadn't told him everything...
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