Chapter 6


Harry Potter grimaced slightly as he woke up from what had probably been the most troubled sleep of his life, and that was saying something considering his impressive track record. Countless of wet-dreams and night-terrors had haunted and blessed his night over and over again, occasionally stepping over each other's boundaries in even more chilling and morbidly alluring results. He still remembered clearly the frightening red-eyed beast and the lustful and luscious mermaid fusing into one being and chasing after him. It was a mystery how he hadn't woken up and fled his bed time and time again, or at least, if he had he had no recollection of doing so.

The smell of his own sweat assaulted his nose when he nuzzled the pillow, intense enough to completely shake the sleepiness off his brain and restart his thinking process. He decided to keep his eyes closed and lay there some more as he rolled on his back and took a breath of fresh air.

He was in a bed of Hogwarts' Infirmary, he realized quickly, thinking about how sad it was that he had enough past experiences to actually recognize it just by lying in it. Lowering the sheets down his chest, he busied himself with trying to figure out which one it was by the direction of the sunlight shining beyond his eyelids, but that turned out to be pretty difficult considering he didn't even know what time of the day it was. Distant voices and chirping birds resonated in his ears, and he idly listened to them as the recent stunning events started coming back to him.

The Soulgaze with Dumbledore came first, as sharp and defined as if it was unfolding once again in his mind. Then came the Sight – capital S – of the old wizard and of Hogwarts, and Harry realized that it had probably been all that use of his Third Eye that had caused such a dreamful night of sleep.

He couldn't believe the stupid mistakes he had made. Controlling the Sight had been one of the first things Dresden had learned to do – as deactivating it was simply imperative to avoid going insane – and freaking out until he fainted wasn't exactly a practical method to do that. He knew better than that. Well… Dresden did, at least, but seeing as his memories were somehow still inside of him, he actually had no excuses.

He tried to think about the American wizard and his world for as long as he could, and then forced himself to focus on Hogwarts and Umbridge, but there was no helping it. A glowing inscription continued popping up in his brain and no matter what he did, he just couldn't seem to be able to send it away.

Those… words didn't leave him alone.

Many minutes passed before he found the strength to actually open his eyes and look around Hogwarts' Infirmary. He was in the bed by the window, he noticed, the farthest from the double doors leading outside, in the row facing Madam Pomfrey's office. Strangely enough, the curtains around him hadn't been drawn shut at all, consequently letting him see everything from corner to corner. The other beds were all empty but it took his gummed and glassless eyes a couple of seconds to notice Albus Dumbledore standing by the window.

The old wizard hadn't changed clothes since the day before and his turquoise robe glowed painfully bright in the morning sunlight. He was looking outside contemplatively, half-turned towards him while keeping his hands behind his back. Harry could have sworn he had seen a flash of black inside the man's gaze for a moment.

He averted his eyes quickly, struggling to move the upsetting image to the back of his head, but knowing nevertheless that it wouldn't ever fade from his memory. When he looked up once again, Dumbledore was staring back at him, clear blue eyes once again in their rightful place.

"Good morning, my boy," he said with a smile. It slowly dropped off his face, though, at the look on Harry's. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," the young Gryffindor said quietly. He reached over the nightstand and took his wand and glasses. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight o' clock, I believe," the Headmaster said with a quick look outside. "I expect your friends to visit soon, certainly before the beginning of lessons. They put up quite a struggle to stay at your bedside for the night. They always do."

The boy-who-lived sat up with his back against the headboard. "I'm actually surprised they're not here."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Yes, you have very loyal friends, Harry. Madame Pomfrey and I had to make a lot of assurances about your health to persuade them to go back to their dorms. Although this time we knew you were just sleeping, so we must have been more convincing than usual for they let themselves be led back to their dormitory." His smile turned amused. "Madame Umbridge, on the other hand, did not give up quite that easily."

The young Gryffindor nodded slowly. "Did you spend the night here, Professor?"

The old wizard almost seemed to sense something behind the question, for he took his time answering it.

"I did."

Harry looked at him hard then. "I bet you're dying to have some answers."

Another long silence followed before Dumbledore pulled his wand out of a pocket and swished it to produce a nice chair.

"I admit I am quite interested in some of them, yes," he said, sitting. He moved his wand elaborately once again but nothing appeared this time, and as Harry looked around a bit, he couldn't see any change. The man smiled kindly at him. "Privacy charm. I have the feeling we would want to keep this conversation to ourselves."

The young Gryffindor didn't comment, though he agreed for many reasons. He didn't want people to know about what had happened to him... even less about what he had discovered. He already had enough problems as it was. He waited silently as his Headmaster put the wand away, but when he realized the man wouldn't meet his eyes, he decided to speak up.

"You can look, you know," he said sourly. "What happened yesterday isn't going to happen again."

At those words, Dumbledore shifted his gaze from an imprecise spot on Harry's face to finally look him in the eyes. Maybe it was just an impression, but the boy-who-lived thought some tension had left his Headmaster's shoulders when he did.

"And what exactly happened yesterday?" the old wizard asked, sounding fascinated.

The young Gryffindor bit his lip and shook his head repeatedly. He answered between clenched teeth.

"I'm so tempted not to tell you anything about it, sir, maybe with an excuse like 'when you're older and ready', more or less the one you used with me." A mirthless chuckle escaped his lips at the blank look on the man's face. "I remember our little chat after Quirrell tried to take the Stone, when I asked you why Voldemort had come after me when I was a baby. And I remember a few other conversations too. I can't believe you always kept quiet about that… thing." He spat the last word as if it was poisonous. "I don't even know how to call it! Prophecy, is it?"

Albus Dumbledore froze into a marble statue at the simple mention of the word. His eyes widened in alarm and his body tensed again. He clearly wasn't expecting anything like that to come up.

"I beg your pardon?" he said almost as if to take time and Harry nearly snarled at that.

"Yeah, you and that nosy little girl both!" He kicked the sheet aside furiously and jumped out of the bed, practically getting into his Headmaster's face. "Stop lying to me! You weren't the only one getting an intimate soul-peek yesterday! And guess what I found out among other things? That you were hiding that bloody death-sentence from me!"

If Harry hadn't been so pissed, he would have probably found fascinating how quickly and frequently Dumbledore's features changed throughout his rant. He had seen more expressions passing through the man's face than he had in the five years he had known him. A sad look had won the battle in the end over a pained grimace.

"I never wanted to lie to you," the man said very softly. "I tried to tell you many, many times in the recent past."

"Then why didn't you?" the young Gryffindor shouted, beyond pissed now. "Do you know what it means for me to find it out like I did? Those… words… they're going to haunt me forever! I will never get rid of them until Voldemort finally gets his hands on me and sends a fucking killing curse up my ass!"

"That is not going to happen," the old wizard said resolutely, standing up from his conjured chair.

"Yeah, because I have a power he doesn't have, right?" Harry snorted, shaking his head. "Perhaps I should Soulgaze him to death!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled interestedly at the word but a look on Harry's part made him desist from asking.

"You may not think you can do it," he said instead, "and yet, you stood up to him three times in the past already. Four if you count that fateful day of fourteen years ago. You have succeeded where no one else has, defying him and even defeating him more times than anyone ever did."

Harry stormed to the window in exasperation in front of that familiar argument.

"Can't you people understand it has always been just ridiculous luck? I've never known what was going on or even what I was doing." He promptly turned around after saying that, glaring at the man. "Which brings us back to the original topic. Because we're not talking about how Voldemort will murder me, here, but about how you kept shut about it!"

"I am very sorry, Harry," Dumbledore started but the simple sentence angered him more than he could have thought possible.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR APOLOGIES!"

It all happened very fast. As Harry's face turned from furious to stunned, magic, the kind from Dresden's world, came out of him like an uncontrolled tide, soaking the air around him and yet crackling like the flames of a fire. It washed over Dumbledore like a physical pressure, forcing him to take a step backward before he could pull out his wand and summon some kind of shield as protection. After toppling the conjured chair and pushing the bed a couple of feet away, the unrestrained energy reached the window and blasted it open with a loud clang.

As soon as the young Gryffindor had understood what was going on, he tried to press down the panic rising inside of him and to focus on withdrawing his magic. He managed to do it a second later and the energy rushed back to him as if sucked in by a magnetic force. He stumbled to the ground at the invasive force and concentrated on just keeping his bearings.

"What the hell?" he chocked out.

He hadn't intended to do anything like that… he hadn't even known he could have! Not here! Panting fearfully, he squeezed his eyes shut while pressing his hands against the cold floor of stone.

"Harry, what is going on?"

A hand came to rest on his right shoulder and it took the boy-who-lived an enormous effort to slip away from it. Slowly, he got back to his feet and scowled at Dumbledore's concerned expression. He didn't want it – he didn't need it, now.

Heat was rising up from his body, as it trembled in anger and tensed like a violin string. He felt his nails dig painfully into the flesh of his own palms with the impression that if he actually let go and opened his fist, what little control he had regained over his magic would slip between his fingers. Something constricting appeared in his throat, struggling against his voice as if to force it down. And yet, it seemed that now that the lid covering his anger had been removed, there was no way to stop the flood.

"How long have you known this prophecy? How long have you lied to me? How many times did we talk about my freaking scar, about Voldemort, or my parents and you never said anything? Did you even want to tell me?" Tears of anger and frustration started forming in his eyes as flashes of glowing orbs and burning words swarmed his vision. "I guess you didn't. Maybe that's why you didn't teach me Occlumency yourself and let Severus friggin' Snape rape my brain! You were scared I could have read your mind like it happened with him! Maybe your grand plan was to close me off completely like you did this summer, when I was dying to know what the hell was going on and who Voldemort was murdering!"

"Believe me when I say I always meant to reveal the truth to you," Dumbledore replied readily, almost eagerly in front of those accusations. "All the mistakes I made, it was because I cared too much."

Harry's mouth hung open for a second before he actually spoke up.

"You… cared?" he repeated harshly, trying to make sense of the word.

"Yes," the old wizard said solemnly. "It is a feeble defence, I am aware of that, but sadly it is the only one I have. I cared more for your happiness than you knowing the truth, especially after the hard decisions I had to make concerning you. I knew I had been the cause, even if not a direct one, of your suffering with the Dursleys, and I saw you endure even more since coming to Hogwarts. How could I…" He hesitated as his voice shook dangerously. "How could I have laid such a burden on you, atop everything else?"

The boy-who-lived couldn't do anything but stare as Albus Dumbledore, unarguably the greatest wizard alive, took a deep shuddering breath and tried to recompose himself. His anger spiked once more before quickly deflating like a pierced balloon in front of that unexpected display of weakness. The lump in his throat dissolved as did the dangerous energy gathered in the pit of his stomach, and he stumbled to his bed and plopped down tiredly, taking his face in his hands and rubbing it harshly.

He wanted to stay mad, to rage more, to scream and cry at the unfairness of it all, but what was the use? He felt exhausted, void, robbed of any will or energy, and the desire to smash things, hit people or just do something destructive now sounded meaningless in his own head.

He chanced a look at his Headmaster and saw that he had gone back to the conjured chair, looking terribly weary himself. Harry knew he was true. The Soulgaze they had shared, as allegorical as it had been, made an awful lot of sense in this new light. At least for what concerned that prophecy, all Dumbledore had done had been protecting him from the hard truth to his own detriment.

Harry Potter let out a long sigh.

What did they say about good intentions?

"I could have done… a lot of things if you had told me… sir," the young Gryffindor said eventually. "Maybe trained in magic like an obsessed or… I don't know, given up education to enjoy other, more pleasant things. I could have hidden under a rock or killed myself, opened a bar in Casablanca or… just about anything. That choice was important and it was mine to make."

"I understand," the old wizard said, and after a moment of hesitation added, "I feel like apologizing again but I am wary about your possible reaction."

The boy-who-lived didn't even bother to smile as he leaned back against the pillow, ignoring the powerful smell and staring at the ceiling.

"I'm over shouting and conjuring waves of magic, if that's what you want to know," he replied honestly. "I just jumped into the 'feeling miserable' phase."

Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "I am sorry for the part I played in it."

Harry was the first to interrupt the long silence that followed.

"There's no escaping it, isn't it?" he said in a very small voice. "Divination is a joke, but that prophecy Professor Trelawney made about Wormtail was the real deal. Is this one…"

He let the question float there unfinished but the Headmaster of Hogwarts understood.

"I'm afraid it is, ah, the real deal as well," the old wizard said. "If you recall the conversation we had in your third year when you told me about Sybill's words, I mentioned it was the second real prediction she had made and-"

"And now I know what the first one was." The young Gryffindor nodded, scratching his lightning-bolt scar nervously. "This is a nightmare. This is insane."

Another silence descended through the Infirmary, only the background noises of birds and kids occasionally interrupting it.

"I really need a shower," Harry said after a while, but he couldn't seem to muster the strength necessary to move.

"I really need some answers," was Dumbledore's quip and this time the boy-who-lived couldn't quite contain the smile. It turned vindictive as he finally stood up and made his way to the Infirmary doors, leaving a surprised Headmaster behind.

"I just bet you do, sir," he said without even turning, brisk pace directed to the Gryffindor tower.


"Alternate dimensions…" Harry repeated the words slowly as if trying to make more sense of them just by uttering them. He failed, of course. "That sounds like something out of science fiction. What does that even mean?"

He was in Dumbledore's office and the Headmaster was sitting behind his desk with a meditative look on his face. After a shower, some breakfast and a quick visit to the Room of Requirement, the boy-who-lived had finally joined the old wizard for the much sought-after explanation he owed him. He still wasn't sure he had actually owed him one, but he couldn't see how it would have hurt.

So he had crushed the petty desire to make Dumbledore pay for the secrets he had kept, and went for what was the practical and most advantageous choice for him.

Spilling out everything.

"Different realities," the old wizard offered after a moment of thought. "Parallel planes of existence, countless copies of the universe, every one different from the other. There are many theories about the subject."

"What do they say?" Harry asked curiously. The only knowledge he had about it came from some movies and books Dresden enjoyed occasionally.

"Unfortunately, they are mostly the result of conjectures and speculation," the Headmaster explained. "Some of them revolve around the chaos theory of muggles, others around the Old Magic that Merlin was said to have uncovered in the last few years of his life. But there is nothing really concrete about either of them, as far as I know."

The young Gryffindor frowned slightly as the portraits around them grumbled their agreement.

"Aren't there precedents of some sort recorded somewhere?" he asked quietly. "I mean… I can't possibly be the first to do something like this, right?"

There was an aftertaste of desperation tingeing his annoyance that didn't go unnoticed in the room. He tried to ignore the portraits' sympathetic looks and waited for an answer.

"I honestly do not know, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "I can only promise you I will try to find out."

"Are we even sure it was another world?" the boy-who-lived asked more urgently, going against what had been his conviction since before returning to Hogwarts. "I could have been wrong all this time. Maybe there's a Harry Dresden somewhere in San Antonio, right here, in this world's Texas!"

The Headmaster pondered that for a moment.

"I can't say it is impossible but…" he started. "From what you told me, it would be extremely improbable. It would mean that two different kinds of wizards live side by side in this dimension without knowing of one another." He frowned thoughtfully before shaking his head. "I do not want to sound arrogant, but I am quite certain I would know if in this world there was a kind of magic like the one I sensed in the Infirmary from you. Or the one you subjected me to when we locked gazes. And if not me, then Merlin or some other great wizard of the past would have. The Wizarding world has existed for thousands of years after all, and, correct me if I am wrong, so do the wizards like Mr. Dresden."

"I don't know about thousands of years, but they've probably been around for a while," Harry said, thinking back about what Bob had told him. He sighed in resignation. "Who am I kidding? Of course it was a different world. It felt like a different world, for Christ's sake! It's just that… it was so much like ours! Muggle history, for example, is so similar in so many things, at least from what I can remember from my old school. How is that even possible?"

Dumbledore smiled a little under his grey beard. "One thing upon which every theory on alternate dimensions seems to agree is the number of worlds that exist, one place or another." He leaned more comfortably on his armchair and steepled his fingers on the desk. "Infinite worlds, Harry. Surely if we think about it in this light, the question 'how is it possible?' loses any semblance of meaning. We cannot quantify – we cannot even imagine how many they are."

Harry tried to, anyway. What if a world existed where everything was exactly the same as in theirs but for a few exceptions like… like a change of name or... or gender, or whatever. That didn't seem so unlikely. And if that was not so unlikely and the possibilities were infinite, then why couldn't it be possible for a world such as Dresden's to exist and not correspond to his own?

Of course it could, and what's more, it made much more sense than the alternative.

"Alright," he admitted in defeat, "but how did I get there, then?"

Albus Dumbledore smiled amusedly. "I have no idea. I have never heard about anything even remotely similar, though be sure I will research this topic thoroughly, starting today. The fact you didn't just appear in Mr. Dresden's world as you are but possessed his body instead seems to imply that there is some kind of connection between you two, one strong enough to overcome the barriers between our dimensions."

"Could it happen again?" the boy wanted to know.

"That is a concern I cannot shake out of my head." The Headmaster's brow furrowed, one hand rising up to his beard and rubbing it pensively. "You told me that Mr. Dresden had just received an enhancement of power from his Faerie Godmother when you found yourself there. Meanwhile, Lord Voldemort had used mind magic on you, and you had just fought it back to the point of severing the connection you shared through your scar. Maybe that is the key…"

Harry couldn't help but smile at Dumbledore's relieved voice when he said that. He couldn't forget how pleased the Headmaster had been when he had told him about the dark ball of smoke he had managed to destroy before crossing over.

"As in… now that I'm not linked to Voldemort anymore, my… other… connection has…uhm… opened up?" he asked for clarification. "Is that what you're saying, sir?"

"It is a possibility," the old wizard mused quietly. "The triggering event is, of course, magic, but I am not sure about the necessary conditions that have allowed the dimensional travel to happen. Mind magic is a very powerful force and am I wrong in assuming the Faerie's is as well?"

The boy-who-lived shook his head quickly.

"No, no, you're right. Lea is…" and here he searched for a more appropriate word before settling for the first one that had come to his mind, "scary. Lea is scary. And the bargain Dresden made with her…"

"Right," the Headmaster said after making sure his student wouldn't finish the sentence. "Then powerful magic must probably come into play on both worlds at the same time to cause it."

Harry mumbled noncommittally before speaking up.

"You said at the same time, sir, but that doesn't sound right," he pointed out. "I told you it was evening there in America, and it was only a couple of hours later here. That's just not possible, right?"

"Do you know what the date there was?" the Headmaster asked curiously.

"It was…" Harry blinked his eyes, puzzled. "It wasn't February. It wasn't even the 1996! What does that mean?"

Albus Dumbledore nodded as if he had actually expected that.

"Theory about alternate dimensions strongly emphasizes the concept of time not as a homogeneous unit ruling over every universe in the same way, but as a fragmented entity acting independently from world to world, with different power and speed. A day in one reality could end at the same time, if you will, as a whole year does in another plane of existence."

The old wizard paused for a moment, thinking about an easier way to explain it, but stopped completely when it appeared there was no need. The young Gryffindor in front of him was nodding his head in understanding.

"Dresden is sixteen years old, while I'm just fifteen," he started quietly, "but he's technically younger than me, having been born…"

The boy froze, mouth hanging open. He tried to move it a second later, but no sound came out of it. What he had just realized had hit him like a Petrificus Totalus, but had nothing to do with magic.

"Harry?"

Professor Dumbledore's voice seemed to reach him from very far away, but it slowly started to shake that spell of sorts off him.

"Hell's bells…" he whispered eventually for the first time with his own voice, and he just knew that it wouldn't be the last. He looked up at the old wizard watching him with some concern and spoke up despite the terribly dry mouth. "Dresden was born on the 31st of October, 1981."

Dumbledore's face looked deliberately expressionless at that revelation. "I admit that could mean something important, other than ascertaining with finality the difference between our timelines."

Harry just shook his head, unable to speak. What did it mean? It couldn't simply be a coincidence, but he'd be damned if he could understand what it implied!

"Maybe it is part of the connection you share," the Headmaster continued. "It certainly corroborates my idea of some kind of powerful magic being involved. At least in our world it was. What can you tell me about that same day but in Mr. Dresden's reality, instead?"

The boy-who-lived quickly recomposed himself and answered. "Not much. His mother died giving birth to him and he was taken by his father. He was Muggle, she was the wizard of the two – they don't really use the term 'witch' there." He considered it for one more second before shrugging. "That's it. Dresden himself doesn't know much about it, seeing as his father died when he was six and he doesn't have any other relatives." He gulped. "Lea excluded."

"I understand," Dumbledore said sadly. "Well, in the absence of any additional information there just aren't enough bases of speculation. This bizarre event could be a one-time incident or a long series of unfortunate episodes, I'm afraid. Until further study, there is not much else I can say."

"So… I just have to avoid powerful magic until you know more?" Harry asked a bit baffled.

"That would be a good place to start, yes." The old wizard's smile widened visibly in seeing his student's unhappy expression. "My dear boy, if what I guessed is indeed true, then powerful magic the kind I am talking about is not as common as you seem to think. There should be a very low chance of something like this happening contemporaneously in Mr. Dresden's world and in ours."

"What if it does?" the young Gryffindor protested sourly. "What if it does and, instead of taking me there, it brings him here?"

"Nothing points in that direction, Harry," the Headmaster of Hogwarts said gently. "On the contrary, the fact that you brought Mr. Dresden's magic with you when you came back seems to imply that it is you that have the power in this equation."

The boy-who-lived frowned slightly at those words. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that since you have taken his power, you-"

"What?" Harry blurted out in a high-pitched voice, immediately silencing him. "You think I stolehis magic?"

Dumbledore looked taken aback by his student's reaction. "I would not use such a term but-"

"No! No! Of course I didn't steal his magic!"

The young Gryffindor jumped out of his chair and took a few steps away, shuddering madly as he thought about what the old wizard was implying. The portraits on the wall had all quieted down when he had raised his voice and they were all looking at him half-warily and half-disapprovingly. Harry didn't care at the moment, too busy freaking out.

Stealing Dresden's magic… he felt sick just at the idea. He knew what magic was for the American teenager, and it wasn't even remotely comparable to what the wizards of Hogwarts thought of theirs, not even the most fanatic of the purebloods. Dresden's magic was a part of him like an arm or a leg but infinitely more vital to his very survival. Taking such a thing from him would mean much more than just crippling him. It would mean mauling his soul, tearing a chunk of it away with such deep repercussions that could make the prospect of death by torture sound like a wet-dream. It would mean a loss of identity, of purpose, of shape… of life.

"I didn't…" He took a deep breath and tried to calm down before turning to his Professor. "I didn't steal his magic, sir. The energy I felt there and the one I feel here are very different. In this world it's entirely and completely mine, no doubt about it."

"I believe you, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly after a second of heavy silence. "I apologize for speaking under a false assumption. The fact that it feels so foreign to me led me to an erroneous supposition, I'm afraid."

"And I'm sorry for reacting like I did," the boy-who-lived was quick to reply. "It's just that… what you suggested was… wrong." And he stressed the word so much it acquired more than one meaning. "This magic is absolutely mine. I think the crossing to Dresden's world only… shook it loose or something. That's why, for example, I completely lost control of it in the Infirmary, or here in your office before that, after our Soulgaze had ended." He walked back to his seat and plopped down tensely. "Both of them were mistakes only an inexpert beginner would make. My new magic is… well, new. It still lacks the fine-tuning of a trained practitioner."

The old wizard nodded as if conceding a point.

"I understand," he said. "Is it the same for Mr. Dresden? Has your arrival in his world caused the activation, if you will, of our own kind of magic in his being?"

"You mean… the, uhm… Hogwarts magic?"

The Headmaster smiled amusedly. "Yes. Has Mr. Dresden come into possession of Hogwarts magic?"

"I…" Harry started but paused an instant later, uncertain. "I don't know, sir. This whole feeling-magic-thing is new to me. I couldn't do it before travelling to his dimension and activating these powers. Wizards in Dresden's world can extend their senses to perceive magical forces or lingering energies, some better than others. Justin could feel Dresden's presence from a couple of blocks away if he concentrated. He could sense a storm hours before it came."

"And you are capable of it too, now?" Dumbledore asked, sounding impressed.

"Yes, to a degree. I can feel my new magic clearly," the young Gryffindor explained. "But sensing the one of this world, even my own, is harder for some reason."

"The ability is probably more attuned to its own kind, I would imagine, making it easier to detect," the Headmaster mused quietly. "It sounds not very dissimilar from what some experienced wizards of our dimension can do. But that is more a rare inborn talent trained after years of practice, it isn't as common as it appears to be in Mr. Dresden's dimension. Only a handful of wizards can use it here."

"You can," Harry said immediately, thinking about how the Headmaster had seen or more probably sensed him back in his first year despite the invisibility cloak.

"Yes, I am quite gifted with it," the old wizard said with a small smile. "Maybe I could help you develop this 'sense' of yours if it has some affinity to the Magi Perceptio. We could at least discuss it, if you would like to."

The boy-who-lived nodded, but was still thinking about the man's original question.

"I think he does, though" he said after a moment of silence. "Dresden. I think he's got some… err, Hogwarts' magic too. I mean, I didn't sense it or anything –frankly, I was too busy saving my skin to even try – but it would explain why I could cast spells non-verbally there while I can't here. I think… I think I was using both of our magic… our Hogwarts' magic combined."

His brain started piecing together the information he had gathered both before and after the return to his world. He couldn't even remember standing up but he was currently pacing through the Headmaster's office, going from Fawkes' perch to the Pensieve cabinet with quick strides.

"I tested a few things earlier, before coming here after breakfast. I went to a… to an unused classroom and tried a few Dresden's spells," he said, deciding to leave the Room of Requirement out of the discussion for the moment. "I was a bit rattled after losing control like that in the Infirmary and… well, I was curious to see what I could do. I was a bit disappointed when my evocations came out much weaker than what I had managed during my fight against He Who Walks Behind, but I thought it was because I didn't have access to Lea's power boost from here. But now..."

"Now you think that when you were sharing the same body, your magic, both of them actually, had united," Dumbledore finished for him. He massaged his beard thoughtfully. "It is a fascinating theory. But couldn't it be that this world's wands are simply not as suitable in channelling such a different kind of energy as the blasting rods you were telling me about, thus resulting in a decrease of power?"

But Harry had started shaking his head since before the old wizard could finish his question.

"No, my wand didn't work at all when I tried to use it for a fire evocation," he explained. "I had to call up flames with no magical focus at all, and the same went for wind and kinetic force. But even considering that, none of those spells could compare to the wandless magic – or rodless, I presume –I had used in Dresden's dimension."

The old wizard smiled in seeing the disappointment on his pupil's face.

"Performing a spell without a wand is terribly useful, Harry, and also an incredibly advanced form of magic in our world."

"It's fairly normal in theirs, though," the boy-who-lived pointed out.

"Still, it is telling that our magical tools of choice are not able to channel their energy while theirs can easily wield ours," the Headmaster of Hogwarts resumed. "I would be very interested in inspecting one of these blasting rods of yours."

"You will, sir," the young Gryffindor promised. "I intend to make one as soon as I can. Now that I found the power Voldemort knows not, it would be pretty stupid to not control it as best as possible."

Whatever Harry had expected from Dumbledore after those words, it wasn't for the man to frown in thought, almost pouting behind his steepled hands.

"What?" the dark-haired boy asked curiously.

The old wizard made to answer but then closed his mouth quickly.

"Nothing."

Harry looked at him suspiciously but let the matter drop.

They discussed some more about Harry Dresden and his dimension, the strange magic that belonged to that world, as well as the events that had taken place there. Despite not having any doubts anymore, they decided to check the city of San Antonio, anyway, to see how much of it was different than in Dresden's dimension.

"We shall go tomorrow," the Headmaster suggested cheerily. "America is just a blink of an eye away for an accomplished wizard, after all."

That drew a small cheeky smile from the boy-who-lived as well. "I could use a little break from school. I only missed the History of Magic class for this little chat, but there are Double Potions and Double Defence tomorrow."

He made a slightly disgusted face, but Dumbledore immediately lost his smile.

"When Madame Pomfrey ran her diagnostic charms on you last night," the old wizard said very quietly, "we discovered the marks on your hand."

Harry couldn't help but wince slightly as he lowered his eyes to the blood quill-born scar. He instinctively covered it with his other hand but stayed quiet. He didn't want to talk about it. He knew it was stupid and immature, but his detentions with Umbridge were something between the two of them. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of hearing that he had complained about it with a Professor.

So he set himself not to say anything and tried to assume the expression Dresden always used when in front of the disapproving Justin, but he was a bit surprised in seeing a small smile appear on the Headmaster's face.

"James Potter used to react like this to the abuse he sometimes received from teachers and students alike," he said kindly. "But while you simply seem to endure it, he retaliated in kind, instead. Oh, do not misunderstand me – he started worse things too, occasionally. But what I mean is that, just like you, he refused to ask a teacher for help or guidance."

The young Gryffindor kept his mouth shut and Dumbledore's smile grew an inch.

"I guess I will just have to do what I always did back then," he continued amusedly. "I think Madame Umbridge's stock of blood quills will mysteriously disappear some time in the foreseeable future. They are not illegal, unfortunately, but they are far from easy to find." His smile widened some more. "Or afford."

Harry didn't trust himself to say anything, but an identical grin was now playing on his lips.

"Professor?" he called hesitantly a few seconds later. "What about the Occlumency lessons with Snape?"

"Professor Snape, Harry," the Headmaster corrected reprimandingly. "What about them?"

The dark-haired boy frowned in distaste. "Do… do I have to continue with them?"

The old wizard thought about that for a long minute.

"They are not needed anymore, technically speaking," he said eventually. "Your connection with Lord Voldemort was effectively severed thanks to Mr. Dresden's help and you are no more at risk of possession or even manipulation from him than anyone else. This said, I would suggest you continue on your learning of the Mind Arts. They have far more practical uses than blocking a madman from entering your mind from miles away."

The young Gryffindor's expression soured further at that.

"But perhaps," Dumbledore continued with a knowing look, "perhaps we could relieve Severus from this extra project. He is already burdened with the Order's business on top of his Potions lesson and his Head of House duties."

Harry looked on hopefully as the man smiled.

"Perhaps I could teach you," he proposed.

Harry agreed wholeheartedly and later left the office with a much better spirit than the one he had entered it with.


Author's notes – Thanks to the DLP folks are in order, I'd say. There are four more chapters ready so expect quicker-than-my-usual updates. Bye.

Uncle Stojil