II.
Lesson in the Forest
As they walked down Privet Drive, Dumbledore pulled his wand out of his robes, and motioned for Harry to do the same. "Where we are off to, Harry, there is a slight risk of danger. Don't worry about the Ministry; just concern yourself with defense. You're with me, so your magic shouldn't be detected anyway."
Harry nodded. "Where are we going, sir?"
Dumbledore nodded at the ground at the end of Privet Drive, where Harry could barely make out an old copy of the Daily Mirror. "That Portkey will take us to Hogwarts; specifically, the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Inside, I will begin teaching you things that you need to know in order to destroy Lord Voldemort." He looked at Harry, his expression unusually somber. "I must apologize again for how I kept the Prophecy from you until now, Harry. From now on, though I cannot be the one to settle things with Voldemort, I will do everything in my power to assist you in your task."
Harry nodded again. "Thank you, sir." He hesitated a second, then said, "I'm sorry for wrecking your office."
To his surprise, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Quite all right, my boy. Believe it or not, I can understand how you felt at the time." He stopped walking as they reached the old newspaper. "Here we are. Grab hold, Harry, and don't let go!"
Harry braced himself, then grabbed the newspaper right as Dumbledore did. Almost immediately, he felt the familiar and unpleasant hook-behind-the-navel sensation of Portkey travel. Space and time flew past him in a barrage of swirling colors, until suddenly everything stopped moving, and he fell face first onto the damp grass outside of the Forbidden Forest. Merlin, he hated Portkey travel. Like Floo travel, it always seemed to finish up with him flat on his face.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again. He offered Harry an arm up, which Harry gratefully accepted, then lit his wand and set off into the forest. Harry followed, feeling a bit apprehensive about heading into the forest again. Considering his past experiences there, he thought it was a perfectly reasonable feeling to have. Between witnessing Quirrell drinking unicorn blood to sustain Voldemort, the vicious acromantulas that Hagrid had somehow befriended, and the giant Grawp, Harry had had enough bad experiences in the Forest to last a lifetime. The centaurs wouldn't be happy to see humans walking about what they considered their domain, either. He caught up with Dumbledore. "Professor, what about the centaurs? They weren't too pleased when Hermione and I came in here with Umbridge."
Dumbledore smiled. "Not to worry, dear boy. The centaurs are well aware of how I've campaigned for decades in support of better relations between wizards and the rest of the magical world." His smile disappeared. "Unfortunately, my lobbying has usually gone unheeded, and, again, we seem to be reaping what we have sown. More and more giants are flocking to Voldemort's banner, as are the vampires, and naturally, the dementors."
This was an unpleasant surprise to Harry. He'd known that the dementors would join Voldemort as soon as he'd declared himself and asked, but he'd hoped that Hagrid's and Dumbledore's messages of goodwill had gotten through to some of the giants. Vampires, though... "Why vampires, sir? They're already dead; how does Voldemort have any influence over them?"
"In the same way he has influence over the dementors, Harry. He can offer them outlets for their desires and needs that we will not. Give them unfettered access to human blood, and they'll be more than happy to do his dirty work. Most of them, that is. There are a few who are to vampires as Remus Lupin is to werewolves. Keep in mind also, that wizards can still destroy vampires. There exist at least three different spells for that express purpose. I suspect that you'll be learning them in N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts. Already, the Ministry has suppressed reports of vampire attacks in conjunction with dementor attacks. They're trying to keep people calm, but it can't last forever." Dumbledore paused as he looked around the forest, into which they'd walked as they were speaking. "Just a bit further, Harry. There should be a clearing coming up soon, and there, we'll begin."
They walked on for a few more minutes in silence, until they came to the clearing Dumbledore had mentioned. "Here we are." With a twirl of his wand, he conjured two comfortable-looking chintz armchairs and a low table between them, complete with tea and biscuits. "Have a seat, my boy." When Harry was comfortably seated, Dumbledore said, "Surely you are wondering why I have plucked you out of your summer vacation to take a midnight hike through the Forbidden Forest?"
"The question had occurred to me, sir," Harry said. Dumbledore smiled.
"Well, it is one place where I can be certain that two conditions will apply. One, no one knows where we are, and two, we will not be overheard. No other place fits that description, really. It would be impossible for Voldemort to track you here, though you've left the protective wards of Privet Drive.
"Now, the first thing we must talk about is Voldemort's immortality. As you told me he'd said in the graveyard, one of his experiments to preserve his life in the face of death must have worked. Since that night, I've been searching nonstop for what he could have possibly done to prevent the Killing Curse from killing him when it rebounded off of you." Dumbledore paused, and looked Harry in the eyes. "Tonight, I believe I've found how he managed it. Let me first tell you how I came to this conclusion." Harry leaned back in the chair and prepared for a long story.
Dumbledore poured himself a cup of tea, then offered some to Harry, who politely declined. The headmaster took a sip of his tea, then began.
"My suspicions that he might have somehow pulled it off began the night your parents were murdered and you received your scar. I had arrived on the scene soon after the incident, and in addition to a few Aurors from the Ministry, there were a number of your parents' Muggle neighbors standing around, in shock, it seemed. From their testimony, and careful use of my skills in Legilimency, I determined that several of them had seen something strange, something that had terrified them into shock. Using my Pensive afterwards to reexamine all of those interviews, I was able to put together a picture of what they had seen that night." He paused to take a sip of tea, and Harry realized that he was sitting on the edge of his chair. He forced himself to relax.
Dumbledore put down his tea on the table and continued. "It seems that several of your parents' neighbors had been out for a walk that night. Shortly before your house was destroyed, they reported a mysterious figure, clad entirely in black robes, making its way towards the house. Being Halloween, they didn't think twice about it, given that there were people all over the streets dressed in a similar manner. This, of course, was Voldemort.
"They also reported seeing a large snake following him, and the one that caught a glimpse of his face claimed it was the most disturbing mask she'd ever seen. Their curiosity now naturally aroused, they stood at the fence, trying to see what was going on. They saw the figure somehow open the door and enter the bulding. They heard shouting, then saw several multicolored flashes of light, before a final pair of bright flashes of green light through the windows, about a minute apart."
Harry shuddered. There was no mistaking what that had been. Dumbledore paused and glanced at him, but Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore continued.
"Now, after that, they report that there was a third green flash, considerably brighter than the first two, followed almost immediately by a huge explosion. Most of the neighbors were knocked unconscious by the force of it, but three of them stayed sensible, and they reported a scream like they'd never heard before. Then, seconds later, they saw a strange misty shadow, with glowing red eyes, fly past them and off into the night."
Harry felt a twinge of uneasiness. "That was Voldemort being ripped out of his body, then."
"Quite right. From that moment onward, I worked under the assumption that Voldemort had indeed managed to succeed in one or more of his experiments, which was finally confirmed when he attempted to seize the Philosopher's Stone. You know the rest of the story. While every other wizard and witch was doubtless celebrating his downfall, I was certain he would return again; thus, your placement with Lily's sister. Now," Dumbledore said, more quietly, and with much more seriousness than Harry had ever heard in his voice. "We are about to discuss some of the darkest of the Dark Arts. These are spells that are purely evil, with no imaginable good intent."
Harry felt a tingle of apprehension run down his spine. There were more spells that were as purely evil as the Unforgivables? He asked Dumbledore the same question.
"Unfortunately, Harry, yes," said Dumbledore. "Fortunately, they are ancient spells, mostly lost in time, buried deep within forgotten manuscripts or inscribed in undiscovered ruins. A number of these deal with achieving immortality, and from the beginning, I was sure it was one of these which Voldemort had used to do it. The depth of his knowledge of magic is quite astounding. I daresay he knows more about some kinds of magic than I do, especially these kinds of spells.
"By any reasonable definition, these are evil, vicious, brutal spells, for they deal with immortality, and the only known way to avoid death is to cause one. The specifics vary, but based on my research, the spell he used works thus: If one kills in the proper manner, say, with the Killing Curse or another Dark curse, one can actually magically bind the soul of the one who has been killed to the killer's own soul. It is not unlike the Dementor's Kiss, with the exception that the bonded soul is not destroyed. It instead lives in a state of torment, unable to depart this plane of existence, and unable to return to its body." Dumbledore paused and looked searchingly at Harry again.
"I'm fine, Professor," said Harry, hearing the unspoken question. He paused for a second, then had a horrible thought. "Does that mean that... my parents are bonded to Voldemort?"
"Actually, I don't think they are," said Dumbledore, and Harry sighed in relief. "You see, the killer does not usually immediately bind those souls to his own; the ritual required to do that is quite complex and takes a considerable amount of time. Rather, in every account of its use that I've read, the killer instead holds those souls in a sort of magical prison, usually a magically powerful object. A wand is the most common, but certain potions or enchanted objects can work as well. These souls can be released, for example by destroying the container or by the Priori Incantatem effect. In your case, when your wand forced Voldemort's to emit the shadows of your parents, I believe it released their souls from his wand, along with those of Cedric Diggory, Bertha Jorkins, and the old Muggle man. I believe that Voldemort was not immortal that night in the graveyard when he returned, though he has surely rectified that since, and possibly with multiple souls."
Harry groaned. "You mean I could have killed him then and be done with it? I knew the Killing Curse, and I could have used it..."
"NO!" shouted Dumbledore, and Harry stopped in shock. He'd never heard the headmaster shout like that. "Harry, never regret not using the Killing Curse! In fact, I'm not even sure that you would be able to cast it. Do you realize what it requires to be able to cast that spell on a human?" Harry shook his head dumbly, shocked by Dumbledore's sudden vehemence. "It requires hate. Hate so powerful, so strong that it cannot be enough to hate the victim, but to truly wish them dead, to want to see it happen. You essentially pour all your hatred into wishing them dead, and if it's enough, they are. That's the way the Killing Curse works That is why so very few can cast it against another human. I myself have never been able to cast it at all." He paused and looked at Harry for a short while, then, almost imperceptibly, nodded, as if he'd come to a decision. "I suspect that you won't either. Try it now."
"What?!" Harry was quite sure he'd misheard Dumbledore.
"Try it. Not on anything in particular, just try to cast it. Concentrate all your hatred, all your anger towards Voldemort, and all of his works, and cast it."
"Are you sure, sir?"
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I am. You need to understand it, because, though it may not seem like it, Voldemort's ability to cast it may be his greatest weakness."
Harry, still unsure of this, started focusing on what Voldemort had done to him and to the Wizarding world. He thought of all those members of the Order of the Phoenix in that picture that Moody had shown him last summer. He saw in his mind's eye Voldemort coldly ordering the murder of Cedric Diggory at the graveyard: Kill the spare! A faint echo of his parents' last moments seemed to reach his ears. The torture of the Longbottoms: seeing the transformation of Neville's parents from happy, popular wizards in old pictures to thin, wizened, prematurely elderly people with no sanity, locked for the rest of their lives in St. Mungo's. Bellatrix Lestrange shrieking in glee as Sirius was blasted through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione laying motionless on the floor after taking Antonin Dolohov's silent curse. Neville being tortured by the same witch who had tortured his parents into insanity. Ron being badly addled by the brains. Hermione lying Petrified in the hospital wing. Ginny Weasley weak and passed out in the Chamber of Secrets, her life force being absorbed by the malevolent spirit of the Dark Lord. Harry felt a hatred so powerful fill him it made his stomach hurt and his legs shake. A painful flare went through his scar. The hate was like a black cloud forming in his head and chest; a red haze seemed to come over his vision. With a trembling hand, he pointed his wand at a stone in the clearing and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"
A couple of glowing green sparks dropped out of the tip of his wand and blackened a few blades of grass on the ground. Harry dropped to his knees, drained. He felt the remnants of his dinner start to come up his throat, but he forced them back down. The hatred was beginning to dissipate, leaving behind fatigue and emptiness in its wake.
"You see?" said Dumbledore quietly, kneeling next to him. "I'm so very sorry to do this to you, dear boy, but you must understand. You are a fundamentally good human being. You simply cannot summon enough hatred to cast this spell, and those that can are usually affected by the amount of negative emotions it requires."
"How does he do it, then?" whispered Harry, shocked at how much it had drained him. His entire wand arm was shaking and his legs felt barely up to the task of holding up his body. "Every time I've seen him cast it, it never seems to affect him in the least. How does he summon up that much hatred? How could he hate anyone so much that it's effortless for him to use it?"
"I don't know, Harry," said Dumbledore softly, "and I suspect no one ever will. But you have the power that he knows not, the power that can counter that hatred."
Harry sat up. "What is it, sir? I've been thinking about it for weeks, and I still can't come up with anything."
Dumbledore looked Harry straight in the eye. "Love, my boy. Love for those close to you, and the love they feel for you. It is a power that he cannot understand, cannot feel, and so, you have the advantage. You can understand hate, can feel hate, but it is overwhelmed by your ability to love. It is this ability to love that will allow you to conquer him in the end." He helped Harry back into his chair and poured him a cup of tea, adding plenty of sugar. Harry took the tea this time, and found that it revived him somewhat. So...love? Just love? That was a bit anticlimactic, Harry thought. He'd been rather hoping for some hidden reserve of power to tap into, or a powerful spell that he could use.
"Now, said Dumbledore, "back to my story. The way a soul bond works is that in the event the caster suffers a mortal injury or is hit with a deadly curse, it is instead the bonded souls that are ripped away, instead of the bonder's. Furthermore, the spell regenerates the body over time, so long as it is not completely destroyed. This is how he was able to survive the reflected Killing Curse, though it would have normally not harmed his body. I believe his body was destroyed by the magical feedback caused by your mother's sacrifice. A sort of magical contradiction, if you will. Love and hate clashing, with the love of your mother for you winning out."
"But how do we release the souls that he's bonded?" asked Harry.
"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure," said Dumbledore. "I have a few lines of research that are looking quite promising, but, for the moment, at least, I am as much in the dark as you are. I assure you that when I find something, I will tell you as soon as I have the information together.
"Now," said Dumbledore, "we'll begin the second reason I brought you here tonight. As we found out to our great misfortune, Professor Snape was unable to overcome his loathing of your father and properly teach you Occlumency. I shall attempt to rectify my error in that matter. How much did Professor Snape teach you?"
"Not much," said Harry. "Mainly, he told me to clear my mind and then he used Legilimency on me."
Dumbledore sighed. "That will never do. Occlumency requires much more than being told to clear your mind. You first need some relaxation exercises." The headmaster got up out of his chair and motioned for Harry to do the same. "Sit down on the ground across me, and close your eyes."
Harry obeyed, already noting the drastic differences between the teaching styles of Snape and Dumbledore.
"Now, draw in a breath and slowly release it. Close your eyes and focus on the feeling of your breath going in and out. Then, try to relax your body bit by bit. When you feel relaxed, try to empty your mind of everything. The preparation for Occlumency is essentially meditation. If that doesn't work, concentrate on something innocuous and simple, but strong. I always found that a blank wall worked best for that."
Harry followed Dumbledore's directions, and found that the tension he'd felt after the test of the Killing Curse ebbed away. He focused his mind on a blank gray wall, and maintained that mental image. Things started to go a little fuzzy, as though all of his senses were being filtered through a thin shroud. In the distance, he heard Dumbledore's voice say, "I will now make an attempt to breach your mental shields. Legilimens!"
The attempt was much gentler than Snape's. Instead of the all-out assault on Harry's mind, he felt a bizarre prodding, poking sensation as Dumbledore's consciousness tested Harry's mental wall for holes or weak places. Resolutely keeping his mind on the blank wall, Harry focused on keeping Dumbledore's mind out of his head. The prodding grew more insistent, until, finally, with the disconcerting sensation of an object going through his head, Dumbledore broke through. A fuzzy image of Ron cheering for Ireland at the Quidditch World Cup two years previous swam before his eyes as the Headmaster broke through.
Harry felt Dumbledore withdraw from his mind as soon as he realized he'd broken through. He opened his eyes and found Dumbledore smiling at him. "Well done, Harry. That was well done for a first time. You managed to keep me out for some time, until I mustered enough strength to break through. Your shield is quite good for a first attempt—it took me a bit of time to find a weak spot. Now, it is true that the accomplished Occlumens will be able to not only maintain their defenses, but reinforce them and shore up weak points, but that will come later, much later. For now, we'll concentrate on just keeping people out, first actively, and then passively." Harry nodded, and Dumbledore continued. "This is a bit closer to what you can expect from Voldemort. He rarely goes for the all out attack as Professor Snape seemed inclined to do, unless he wants information quickly. Many of those in the presence of Voldemort do not even realize they are being probed. I must also warn you that I was looking mainly for innocuous memories, things that would not disturb you if they were revealed. Voldemort won't be so courteous."
Harry nodded again.
"I'm going to try again. This time, I'll be a bit more energetic, so be warned. Concentrate on maintaining the wall, not trying to shore it up or anything complex. Relax yourself again, like you did before. Ready? Legilimens!"
The attack was more powerful this time, and Harry felt a strong push against his mental shield. Instead of just sitting back and taking it as he had last time, he focused on pushing against Dumbledore's mind with all of his willpower. The effort was very draining, and the conscious part of his mind noted that he was trembling and sweat was breaking out on his forehead. He felt Dumbledore withdraw from his mind without breaking through.
"Well done, Harry!" said Dumbledore, and he looked quite pleased. "Excellent! You were able to keep me out entirely, but it seems to have tired you out, and had I kept it up, I believe you would have broken." Harry privately agreed. He felt mentally exhausted, and he felt a tremor pass through his body. Dumbledore seemed to notice his weariness, for he said, "That will be more than enough for tonight. Mental magic is based primarily upon strength of will, but it can take its toll on the body as well as the mind. I want you to focus on the relaxation exercise you learned this evening, and try to do it every night before you go to sleep." He glanced at a very complicated pocket watch with twelve hands. "I fear that I've kept you later than I intended, but I feel that you learned a great deal tonight. We won't have any more lessons until September, but we'll have them fairly often once the year begins." Dumbledore picked up a small rock off the ground, and Vanished the chairs and table with tea service. He pointed his wand at the rock, and muttered, "Portus!" The rock briefly glowed blue as it turned into a Portkey.
"Are you coming with me to the Burrow, sir?" asked Harry.
"Only to make sure you arrive safely," said Dumbledore. "I informed Molly and Arthur of my intention to arrive tonight, and they should be waiting for you." He started to offer the Portkey to Harry, but paused. "One other thing. Have you told Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger about the Prophecy?"
Harry shook his head. "No, sir, but I'm going to as soon as the three of us are together."
Dumbledore twinkled at him. "Excellent. Then, let us be off!"
With that, Harry touched the Portkey, Dumbledore tapped it with his wand, and they went swirling off into the stream of color and sound of Portkey travel.
***
With a thunk, Harry landed on his face for the second time that evening, and this time, felt the bridge of his glasses snap. He choked back a curse while Dumbledore helped him up and repaired the glasses with a tap of his wand. He put on his glasses and looked up, expecting to see the ramshackle but comfortable home of the Weasleys. In front of him, however, instead of the Burrow like he'd expected, was nothing but a copse of trees.
"Where's the Burrow, sir?" asked Harry, starting to feel concerned.
"Not to worry, dear boy," said Dumbledore, then leaned down and whispered in his ear, "The Burrow is located right outside the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, about twenty yards in front of you." The words were perfectly ordinary, but they had a strange weight to them, almost as though they were a spell...
Harry looked up, and in place of the copse of trees was the familiar crooked structure of the Burrow, Harry's favorite place in the world aside from Hogwarts. A feeling of warmth filled him; this was the one place in the Wizarding world where everyone present truly cared about him.
"Come along, Harry" said Dumbledore, and together, they headed towards the kitchen door of the house. A golden light came from the open window next to it. Dumbledore knocked softly on the door, and Molly Weasley cracked it open, her round face anxious.
"Is that you, Albus?" she whispered, then saw Harry. "Harry, dear! Come in, both of you! Arthur was called in by the Ministry, but he should be back soon. Something about some trouble with a set of exploding teacups." She opened the door so that they could get in. Harry noticed that she was looking a little careworn and had obviously lost some weight since the end of the year. He felt a twinge of sympathy towards her; after all, she had four sons and a husband active in the Order, not to mention another son who was a close friend of the primary target of the Dark Lord. Harry shuddered at that and looked at the ground. Maybe it would be better if he just left everyone behind and hunted down Voldemort on his own...
He realized Dumbledore was staring at him, a grave look on his face, and Harry had the sudden feeling that his headmaster had realized the direction of his thoughts. He felt Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder, and heard him say to Mrs. Weasley, "If you don't mind, Molly, I'd like to talk to Harry alone for a minute, and then I'll be out of your hair."
"Of course, Albus," he heard her reply. "Harry," she said, and he looked up at her. She was looking at him in a very concerned fashion. "I'll be in the sitting room when Professor Dumbledore is through. Ron and Ginny are upstairs asleep. I think Fred and George are, too—I'm never sure with those boys. You'll be in with Ron for now."
He nodded in reply.
"Well, then, I'll wish you good night now, Albus," she said.
Dumbledore replied with a good night of his own, waited until she'd left the kitchen and shut the door, then turned to Harry, a solemn expression on his face. "Harry, you can't do this on your own."
"I know, Professor," said Harry, and before he could stop himself, he said, "I'm just so worried that Ron or Hermione or another one of the Weasleys, or Professor Lupin, or someone will get hurt, and it will be my fault because they're close to me."
Dumbledore's expression softened. "I know how it feels, Harry, but think of it this way. Arthur Weasley is one of the most outspoken proponents of complete integration of Muggleborns into our society, as well as for expanded protection of Muggles in general, not to mention publicly opposed to all of Voldemort's policies. Indeed, the Weasley family has been known for generations for their outspoken attitudes against pureblood supremacy and Muggle oppression. He and his family would likely be on the top of the list even if they had little to do with you. The animosity between the Weasly and Malfoy families goes back several generations. The same goes for Remus Lupin, and Miss Granger would be in danger anyway, as she is a very talented Muggle-born witch, and thus represents the height of pureblood fears—a Muggle-born more powerful than most pure bloods!" He looked Harry squarely in the eyes, and though his expression was still serious, Harry could still see a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "I want you to stop worrying about this, Harry. The Order has already made considerable provisions for the protection of the Weasleys and Grangers, and unless I'm very much mistaken, if you ever left by yourself to fight Voldemort, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would be after you to help in any way they could—or to drag you back—before we could stop them."
Feeling a bit foolish at his earlier desire to run away and finish it, Harry said, "I know they would, it's just that..." He hung his head. "I don't want anything to happen to them. They don't have the Prophecy hanging over their heads."
Dumbledore's expression softened even further. "I know it's a heavy burden for you to bear, Harry, but they can help ease it for you, if you let them." Dumbledore clapped Harry on the shoulder, winked, and with a soft swish, Disapparated.
Harry stood still for a moment. His original decision to share the Prophecy had been the correct one, according to Dumbledore. He still remembered the determination with which he'd made that decision earlier that evening, but it seemed different now. As he considered not doing it, a voice came unbidden into his brain: Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that following Dumbledore's orders has never led you into harm? He recognized the words as those of Phineas Nigellus, the snide and irritating portrait of a former headmaster in Grimmauld Place, but the voice had a point. Silently, Harry resolved again to tell Ron and Hermione the Prophecy.
Mrs. Weasley came back into the kitchen just then and gave Harry a motherly hug. "It's wonderful to see you again, dear!" she exclaimed, then started going through the pantry. "You're looking so thin, we've got to start putting weight on you. Are you hungry, dear?" Before he could answer her question, she did it for him: "Of course you are, boys your age are always hungry..." Harry opened his mouth to say that it was all right, he just wanted to go to bed, when a bowl of steaming hot split pea soup appeared in front of him. "Well, go on, then," she said, looking at him expectantly, and Harry, feeling an odd mixture of irritation at her fussing and gratification that she cared enough to fuss, dug into the soup. It was quite good, and he ate with gusto.
The soup disappeared quickly, and he looked up to see Mrs. Weasley smiling at him. "Thanks for the soup, Mrs. Weasley," he said, then got up and yawned. "I guess I'll turn in."
"Of course, dear, you must be dead tired. Your things are already in Ron's room." She gave him another hug, and then Harry headed upstairs. He heard Ron snoring even before he eased the door open. Once he was on the room, he got out of his clothes and into his pajamas and got under the covers, feeling content and happy for the first time in a while.
