Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

by J.K.Rowling

Dumbledore's Death Scene

A/N: This is just a little stand-alone piece of work I did for my A Level coursework, and thought I'd post on here for you guys. I positively reduced me to tears to write. Enjoy!

Task: Approximately 1500 words. A short story based on a section from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Chapter Twenty Seven: The Lightning-Struck Tower. A short story of Dumbledore's death, from Albus Dumbledore's point of view, including my interpretations of the ambiguities left open by J.K.Rowling in the novel.

It had only taken me a moment to wordlessly immobilise Harry, but it provided Draco with the necessary opportunity to disarm me. I must say I had expected it; Severus and I had meticulously planned for this evening, foreseeing and preparing for almost every possible eventuality.

It was, however, frightening nonetheless. For all my knowledge and wisdom, I am still guilty of falling victim to the natural terror one experiences when face to face with their own death.

"Good evening, Draco." I was careful to maintain and air of complete calm as I spoke to my attacker. I did not wish to forewarn him – or Harry, for that matter – of my intentions.

We spoke for a moment or two, not really about much at all. He informed me of the Death Eaters in my school – I had guessed as much – and tried to imply that it had been as a result of my own foolishness and incompetence that they had been able to gain access to the castle at all. He said it was "Right under your nose and you never realised!" How very misguided he was.

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," I said politely to him, straining to keep my voice calm. After a stretched minute, during which Draco said and did nothing, I allowed a small smile to play across my paling features. "Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" He countered, sounding somewhat childish, if I may say so. I knew, at this point, that I had been right. This poor boy was not on Voldemort's side. He never was. He was being pressured so much by his Death Eater parents and threatened by Lord Voldemort, that he felt he had no other option. No way out. And as relieved as I was to discover this, it distressed me as well. This meant that, sadly, Severus truly did have no way out.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," I listened as Draco continued, trying more to convince himself than me, "you don't know what I've done."

"Oh, yes, I do," I went on to demonstrate to him that I did, indeed, know all that he had done. In his rather feeble, half-hearted attempts to murder me, he had almost killed both Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. "…so feeble, to be honest," I told him, "that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it…"

Draco attempted to argue that his heart had, indeed, been completely dedicated to his cause, but was interrupted by the sounds of the battle lower down in the castle.

"Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone," I suggested pleasantly, maintaining my calm façade, forcing myself to pay no heed to my own pain and fear. "I have no wand at the moment… I cannot defend myself."

And yet, Draco made no move to harm me, merely insisting that he was not afraid, and that it was I who should be fearful.

"I don't think you will kill me, Draco." I remained as relaxed as I could, although the pain caused by my experience in Lord Voldemort's cave was certainly worsening. "Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe."

I coaxed Draco into explaining exactly how he had achieved the invasion of the castle. I was desperately prevaricating, praying that Severus would arrive shortly and remove the necessity for Draco to complete his task. I could not allow this innocent young boy to become a murderer.

He explained to me the enchanted coins he had used to communicate with the Madame Rosmerta while she was under the influence of the Imperius Curse, an idea he had taken from the secret Defence Against The Dark Arts group 'Dumbledore's Army'. As I slipped slightly down the wall upon which I was leaning, in agony despite my forced light and conversational manner, Draco mentioned the poisoned mead, an initiative he said he had got from "the Mudblood Granger".

"Please do not use that offensive word in front of me." I said sharply, forceful in spite of my weakness.

"You care about me saying 'Mudblood' when I'm about to kill you?" Draco laughed.

I responded in the affirmative, struggling to remain standing as I continued. "But as for being about to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now. We are quite alone. I am more defenceless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted…"

My confidence increased as I succeeded in yet again coaxing Draco into conversing some more. He confirmed my fears, informing me that somebody had been killed, but I, rather skilfully I must say, concealed my emotions, before riskily moving on to the next stage of our conversation.

"Let us discuss your options, Draco."

"My options!" Draco repeated me loudly, apparently attempting to mock me. "I'm standing here with a wand – I'm about to kill you –"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that." I interrupted him, determined to make him realise. I had to make him realise. "If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."

"I haven't got any options!" Draco finally abandoned the defence, admitted that he was, or rather felt he was, trapped. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your situation." I attempted to reason with the boy – he was suddenly ghostly pale. "I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realised that I suspected you." As Draco flinched upon hearing the Dark Lord's name, I told him the most important point of our conversation. "I can help you, Draco."

"No, you can't." Draco was visibly shaking as he spoke, his wand trembling in his grasp. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."

I had succeeded. By confiding in me this information, Draco had finally admitted that he did not wish to be on the path he was walking. For a boy like Draco, with Draco's background, it must have taken a great deal of courage – or perhaps desperation – to admit that he was being threatened into rather than choosing to do something I knew he had long, as the dutiful son, been boasting a desire to do.

Deciding he was ready, I offered Draco the proposition, in its entirety.

"Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban…. when the time comes we can protect him too… come over to the right side, Draco… you are not a killer…"

And, finally, he conceded.

"But I got this far, didn't I?" He spoke slowly, and, although he quite clearly did not wish for a response, it felt as though, despite everything, he was still seeking reassurance from his headmaster. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here… and you're in my power… I'm the one with the wand… you're at my mercy."

"No, Draco," I said quietly, seeing with great relief, and also great sadness, the end of our conversation. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

Draco, at last, lowered his wand.

And then, the battle arrived.

Four Death Eaters joined us; Amycus, Alecto, and two I could not see clearly enough in the limited light to identify.

After a moment, during which they celebrated jubilantly at Draco's 'success', I acknowledged them calmly. "Good evening, Amycus. And you've brought Alecto too… charming…"

Alecto laughed. "Think your little jokes'll help you on your death bed, then?"

Once again, I surveyed her calmly. "Jokes? No, no, these are manners."

Another of the Death Eaters suddenly spoke. I recognised him as Fenrir Greyback. "Do it." Ah. He still believed that Draco intended to murder me.

I was sickened to see that Fenrir had been attacking people whilst in his human form – even more so when he began gloating the fact.

"Shocks you, that, does it?" The werewolf jeered, somewhat arrogantly. "Frightens you?"

I responded perfectly calmly. "Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little."

The Death Eaters chose to ignore my comment, and moved on, instead, to prompting Draco to complete his task and kill me. "Now, Draco, and quickly." One of them said.

Draco, however, did nothing, and as he stared directly at me, I felt a slight glow of pride, as one does when their students truly excel themselves.

There was quite a quarrel for a moment, concerning which of the Death Eaters would be given the 'honour' of eliminating me, as Draco was quite clearly unable, or unwilling, to cast the murderous curse himself.

I became somewhat nervous during the minutes that they argued. Would one of these Death Eaters kill me before Severus arrived to stop them? What if we failed, despite all of our careful planning.

Then, the door to the tower once again burst gloriously open, and Severus stood, surveying the scene around him.

"We've got a problem, Snape," Amycus was immediate in his informing Severus of Draco's inability to murder me, although I knew that Severus had been aware of this for months. This was why we had planned so thoroughly for this night.

Severus had not moved for several short moments; merely stood, his wand clutched in his hand, staring over the scene.

"Severus…"

I was aware that I was begging him, and, to Harry's ears, it may have sounded as though I was begging for mercy – for my life. But I was not. Severus had to do this. If he failed to do this, not only would I be ultimately killed by the four angry Death Eater standing around us, but we would lose our only existing spy within Lord Voldemort's ranks, and Draco and his family would be murdered for their failure.

Severus looked at me, and I could see, etched on his face, the revulsion and hatred he was feeing towards what he knew he must do. His features contorted as he struggled to muster enough anger and hatred to power the curse.

"Severus… please…" I pleaded with him to do this, for me, the one man who had trusted him, the one man who had seen past his dark history.

Severus raised his wand, and pointed it at me.

My eyes flickered towards the spot where I knew Harry was standing, invisible. I knew how much this would pain him. In truth, I was the last of his protectors, his guardians, and now, like Sirius, and Lily and James before him, I was leaving him, sacrificing myself as yet another victim or Lord Voldemort's war against him.

My relationship with Harry had always been so much more than headmaster and pupil. I had never been fortunate enough to have children of my own, but I had come to love Harry as my own son. I wished I had been able to watch his life, as any parent wishes to watch their child grow up. Now, like his mother, and his father, and his god-father, I would never be graced with that opportunity. How I wished things had been different.

But, as I once said to Harry himself, I cared about him too much. I cared more for his happiness than him knowing the truth; more for his peace of mind than my plan, more for his life than the lives that would be lost if the plan failed. I acted exactly as we fools who love do act. And now, I was left with no other option than the one I was now facing. How I wished things could have been different.

As Severus opened his mouth, I allowed my eyes to dart back to his. I silently, thanked him for the most painful task he was about to complete, and returned my gaze to the spot that I knew contained the boy that had become something of a surrogate son.

"Avada Kedavra!"

As the curse collided with my chest, I momentarily saw through Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Despite his inability to move, I could see the horror and grief in his eyes as I was thrown backwards.

In the split second before my world gave way to the darkness of Death's abyss, I prayed that, one day, in many, many years to come, we would one day meet again. And I found myself once again remembering something I had said to Harry, and prayed that it was, as I had always believed, true:

"To the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."

(2154 words)