Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.
Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please exercise understanding of personal boundaries before and during reading.
Author's Note (Generic Note for the Houses Competition): All my works should be considered to be Not Epilogue Compliant and I treat everything that is not the HP books and the Hogwarts Library Collection as apocrypha (supplementary to canon but still outside of it) and treat it as such (including ignoring it unless it suits me). I also make a policy of not ignoring abusive and distasteful actions/decisions of characters and not handwaving the effects of trauma experienced by characters. If you feel that a character isn't acting like their "canon self" chances are good that it's because of one of these two things and they are merely displaying a more realistic response than they did in canon.
Author's Note(s): So, in case anyone is still wondering, I do not like Dumbledore and I find the way that he amassed power with absolutely no intention to actually use it for the betterment of others to be unconscionable. I am markedly not an apologist. I am also not very forgiving. On a more positive note, it is incredibly difficult to write someone who does not use contractions.
Challenge/Competition Block:
Stacked with: Houses Competition (Term 3); MC4A
House: Hufflepuff
Year: 6th
Category: Short (1500-3000 words)
Theme: Must be in 3rd PoV
Prompt: "Mimicry may be the highest form of flattery, but mockery is just an insult," (speech)
IntraHouse Challenge: Raven
Representation: Creepy Cavern; Schooling Dumbledore; Albus Dumbledore; Gay Character; Teacher/Government Service; Dumbledores; Oracle of Delphi
Bonus Challenge(s): Creature Feature; Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Ladylike – Aggressive; Nontraditional; Tomorrow's Shade; Unwanted Advice; Some Beach); Second Verse (Odd Feathers; Rock of Ages); Second Verse (Mermaid; Toto's Tribute; Sitting Hummingbird; Hot Apple; Uncivil Obedience)
Word Count: 2150
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The Greater Will
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"The very power of evil is that it is not recognizable to us most of the time. It is not repellent at all. It does not attack, it seduces." – Anne Perry
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Despite the bonfire's great size, the cavern was greater still, leaving plenty of shadows to dance with the flickering flames. The sense of ancient magic hung thickly in the air almost as tangible and visible as fog on the moors of the Scottish Highlands. Unease crept along Albus' neck and shoulders as he sought the person he had been promised to meet, finally after asking for an audience for so many years. On the far side of the cavern, he could barely see the ancient woman who sat upon the great throne carved out of a stalagmite, obscured as she was by the dance of shadow and light that played across the area. As best as he could tell, she looked as if she was carved from the same stone as her throne.
It was a fitting illusion for the great Oracle of Delphi, appropriately impressive.
"Greetings, Albus, son of Kendra by Percival."
He didn't jump at the voice so suddenly near his side when he had been focused upon the Oracle, but it was a near thing. After all the duels he had been in over the years, it was rather annoying to be caught by surprise like that, especially by someone so young. The new speaker was a young woman who looked hardly any older than one of his fifth-years. Where the Oracle was as gray as the stone on which she sat, this girl was richly colored in deeply purple hair with dark olive skin. Her hair had been elaborately braided and then coiled into an equally elaborate mound atop her head, obviously in an attempt to make her seem older than her tender youth. In the firelight, it was difficult to tell what color her pale eyes were. She smiled gently at him, like she could tell that she had almost startled him, and the thought amused her. Her gaze flicked from him to the Oracle and something clicked in his thoughts.
Of course, the Oracle would have an attendant. The girl was likely in training to become the next Oracle.
"Greetings," he returned as politely as possible. "Is the Oracle ready to see me?"
"Oh, yes," the girl agreed. Her eyes twinkled with merriment. Albus resolved to learn how to mimic that effect. It would do much to make him seem harmless and trustworthy, almost grandfatherly. It would also make him seem jovial, which would serve to make him seem more approachable to those who might be intimidated by speaking with a great wizard such as himself. "She has waited a long time to see you."
"I've asked for an audience every season for the last twenty years," he reminded the attendant. His tone wasn't petulant, and he didn't pout. Much.
"It was not yet the time, Albus, lover of Gellert."
"I have other accomplishments," Albus said pointedly as he tried to not wince at the reminder of his failed romance. It was greatly embarrassing that he had been rejected by his first love. The girl made a humming noise which could be taken as agreement or dismissal. It irritated him more than he cared to admit that anyone would dare to be so disrespectful of him. "I have done great things."
"Great things? I suppose they could be listed as great," the girl agreed. She still had that indulgent smile on her heart-shaped face. "You made it through two of the Great Gates under Master Flamel, which is farther than many alchemists achieve before they back off of the Art."
"I also—"
"Ah, yes, the twelve justifications for the exploitation of the Great Wyrms," the girl interrupted as if she had just remembered it. Albus bit back a retort, knowing that even a mere attendant had the right to reject him from the Sanctum of the Oracle. His need for information on a possible end to the combat with Tom outweighed the insult. He just had to stay focused on the Greater Good. "Though I suppose that many of those were not originally yours, were they? Well, if everyone is willing to pretend, why should you not also pretend? I know all your accomplishments, Albus Dumbledore, and all your worthless titles. Your legend precedes you."
"They are not worthless," he argued through clenched teeth. "I've earned all the honors given me by the people I protect and serve."
Her smile grew sharp and cold. When she spoke next, her tone matched. Her declaration cut through his defense like icy blades. The girl's words had weight to them as if she was speaking as a prophetess would.
"Power is always useless when it is just possessed, merely collected like a bauble. The honors were meant for a protector. One must wonder how you ended up with them." She held up a hand to silence any protest Albus would make of that accusation. "Ask your questions three, and we will See if they can be answered."
"How can I defeat the Dark Lord known as Voldemort?"
"You will not," she answered simply. Albus gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at the impertinence of the girl, attendant to the Oracle or not.
"What do you mean I won't? There is no one more qualified than me! I am the one who Voldemort fears most!"
"I mean exactly what I have said," she answered again. "You will not be the one to defeat the one known as Voldemort, formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, stolen son of Merope."
"Of course, I will," Albus protested automatically. "I am a good man! I am powerful and well versed in all kinds of magic. I am the only hope anyone has against him!"
"I am sure that you have deceived many into believing thus," she said saccharinely, "and perhaps you have even managed to make a halfway decent parody of it, but no one who treats their fellows as you have, who would betray their own flesh and blood as you have, can have any claim to purity or goodness. If this Voldemort fears you, it is not due to your goodness. It is because he is already familiar with your particular brand of kindness and thus knows the darkness which you strive to convince the world does not exist."
"I am a good man," Albus repeated obstinately.
"Mimicry may be the highest form of flattery," she replied pointedly, "but mockery is just an insult. Goodness is not served by denying innocents their rightful protections in order to advance your own agenda. Goodness is not served by denying justice to those who have been wronged in order to purchase personal favors to be named at a later date. Goodness is not served when knowledge is hidden and innovation stifled in order to preserve the oppression which allows you to keep ahold of all your worthless titles and stolen honors. You are not a good man, Albus, warlock of Britannia."
"I am the warlock of Britannia," Albus declared. He glared at the cheeky girl who dared to act as if he was less than everything that he claimed to be. He had come here for a purpose and this child insisted upon distracting him with pointless arguments. "I would not expect a child such as yourself to understand what that means, but I am through indulging your outrageous accusations. If you will not answer my question, I'm certain that your mistress will! What would she say about your insolent slander of a supplicant, I wonder?"
"I would imagine that she would congratulate me on reducing a humble and patient man such as yourself to petty name-calling," she answered in a dry tone. "You seem to be operating under a few misunderstandings, Albus of Hogwarts."
The bonfire flared dramatically, momentarily chasing away the darkness which had cloaked the cavern. Against the raging backdrop, the girl did not seem as young and as easily dismissed as she had just a few moments prior. In fact, with the flames etching the scowl deeper on her face, she appeared as powerful as God about to strike down a nonbeliever. The small boy inside him, who remembered his mother's lessons about damnation, trembled at the sight.
"Warlock fits you better than you know," she stated in echoing tones. "The wizards of Britannia claimed it as a martial title for honoring feats of battle, but it has a far older meaning to Mother Magic, as a title for those who had forsaken their oaths of fidelity and protection, just as you have done." She sliced her hands through the air as he opened his mouth to refute that accusation. "You will not attempt to spin your inaction as anything but a betrayal. A false show of humility is not a valid excuse for not using the authority granted to you in order to serve the needs of the people who trusted you to act in their best interests over your personal desires. If you truly did not believe you could be trusted with the power imbued in the roles, you should have passed them to another who could."
"You judge what you do not understand!"
"I understand perfectly, Albus Dumbledore! It is you who do not understand! You speak to me as if I am a mere child attending the school you allow to languish as you play games with others who are just as callus towards the needs of others. Were you not so blinded by your hubris, you would have already realized that the one who you had so long sought an audience with is myself, not a statue carved when this temple was still new."
Shocked, Albus looked towards the woman he had seen earlier. Like the Red Sea before Moses, the flames parted without dying. With the greater light, he could see that she was correct. It was not a living woman seated upon the stalagmite throne. The woman had also been carved from the stone and the only thing which gave the likeness color was the patina of incense and smoke built up over the eons. What had his mouth going dry with sudden fear, however, was the exact resemblance between the effigy and the woman who had so thoroughly laid out the entirety of his being. Feeling suddenly like a boy wanting to hide behind his mother, Albus turned back, determined to salvage the interview as much as possible.
Regardless of having misspoken, he still needed to know how to defeat Tom, after all.
"Leave this place," the Oracle commanded. Her eyes glowed as green as the Killing Curse as she glared at him. "Leave and never seek to return."
"I still have two questions!"
"I granted you only three and all three were both asked and answered. If the answers were not to your liking, it is not any business of mine. It is not for me to change the world. This is my curse. I speak truth but cannot force anyone hear it."
"You can't cheat me out of my right—"
"You try my patience, mortal," she interrupted, "and I have so little for monsters who pretend righteousness where there is none to be found. If you will not leave of your own volition, then I will assist you just this once."
In a smoother transition than any that even Minerva could achieve, the woman transformed into the largest raven he had ever seen. Just as fluidly, she launched herself into the air. The cavern that had seemed so vast before suddenly seemed filled with the thunderous sound of beating wings. Instinctively, Albus turned to flee and internally cursed the ritualistic requirement that supplicants not bring their wands.
He made it exactly five steps before he was picked up in the raven's talons.
She carried him from the cave as if he was nothing more than a bit of bread and out over the valley that her mountain loomed over like a silent sentinel. Swooping low over the sparkling lake that was fed by the sacred springs of the mountain, she dropped him like unwanted refuse. Then with a rage-filled scream, she turned back to the cloud-filled sky. An ominous bolt of lightning illuminated her titanic form as she flew back to the temple.
As Albus struggled to untangle his limbs from his sodden robes so that he could swim to shore, the corresponding thunder rolled through the valley. A solid sheet of heavy rain followed it loyally to punctuate just how horrid his night was going. He should have known better than to leave such things to the whims of fate and magic.
When had anything gone right when he had not meticulously controlled it?
He knew now what was necessary for the Greater Good.
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An Ending
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