Wow- sorry I took so long to update, but this was really hard to write. I hope the explanation is okay and makes sense. I tried to imagine where JK was going in her books and used that to fuel the bunnies. I'm not even sure it makes sense to me! But what the hell – hope you like it anyways and I off to start work on part eleven.

Part ten

John Sheppard didn't remember falling asleep but his body ached as though it needed just a little bit more down time. His body was twisted in an awkward position across the four poster bed. He was bent over, his face lying somewhere near his knees but a little more to the left. The warm and cosy quilt was wrapped around his legs and he fisted the soft fabric in his right hand not too far from his cheek. He supposed the ache in his muscles was due to his sleeping position, not really good for the back.

He opened his eyes slowly, enjoying the now expected smells and sounds of Hogwarts. There were the distinct sounds of a quiditch match somewhere in the distance. The roar of the game being carried on the wind to the castle and up to John's room. The fire that had burned in the centre of the room had long since died out. The embers now nothing more than ash, leaving a lingering smell of burned coal. He scrubbed his hand across his face and sat up, his aching bones protesting the sudden movement in his limbs. Dumbledore was once again sitting comfortably by the window. His tall pointy hat was now perched precariously on his head. The warm sunlight making the old mans face glow with vitality betrayed only by his sad eyes. "How long was I out?" He asked his old headmaster.

"Oh I dare say not long enough Harry." John smirked at the older man. Typical Dumbledore, couldn't give a straight answer if his life depended on it. Dumbledore rose from his cosy looking floral arm chair and moved to fetch a tray of tea and scones which had been positioned on the chest at the foot of the four poster bed. "Would you care for a cheese scone?" he lifted the tray and placed it carefully on the bed. "Or perhaps a plain one with strawberry jam and real Cornish clotted cream?"

John watched as Dumbledore poured the tea from the china pot into two mismatched cups with saucers. "Plain with jam and cream please sir." He said, "And two sugars."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes sipping their hot sweet tea. Dumbledore handed John a small plate with two scone halves both covered with strawberry jam and a generous dollop of clotted cream. "Thanks."

The scone was perfect; just how he remembered it, Light and fluffy, not at all stodgy. The jam sweet with strawberry pips and the cream was sublime. John took a small bite the cream giving him an off white moustache. Licking the cream from his lips John realised that he was stalling. There was so much that they needed to discus but right now he just couldn't bring himself to talk. Thankfully Dumbledore seamed to understand Johns need to take his time. Whist there was not all the time in the world, Dumbledore knew they could afford to take it slowly, to ease the younger man into it.

There would be no time later for friends to talk. Dumbledore knew that Harry would once again be fighting for his life. So if the people waiting for John to wake up had to wait a little longer then so be it. And if he was honest Dumbledore was enjoying spending time with Harry once more. He had missed the company and was enjoying this little meeting of minds far more than he thought he should be. Being dead had its good points but it just wasn't the same as living, breathing… caring. The sat for almost an hour eating scones, drinking tea and reminiscing about their time at Hogwarts together. They chatted about the exploits of Harry and his friends, carefully avoiding the names of the dead.

Eventually however there came the time to discuss more important issues. The sun was just beginning to set in the distance, over the rolling mountains beyond the forbidden forest. The two men had finished off all the scones and drank all the tea during the afternoon and both were filled with a pleasant feeling of nostalgia after their long overdue conversation. Dumbledore rose from his position on the bed and using his wand lit the fire in the middle of the room. He turned, removed his hat and gently sat back down, his piercing blue eyes on Harry's face. "There is much we need to discuss, Harry."

"Yeah, I know that." Sheppard looked downcast he really did not want to have this conversation. He sighed mentally preparing himself for the next emotional round of question and answer. "Okay. So I know what needs to be done and how to do it." Deep breath. "Which leave just one thing unanswered; why did he take my blood? And what was that gold thread thingy?"

Dumbledore nodded. This was the question he did not want to answer and yet he had known all along that it was the reason he was here. The reason Harry was here with him. The fates had brought them together here one last time so that he could reason with Harry and help him overcome his fears. His fears which were crippling him even now- he just didn't know it.

"Voldemort took your blood because your blood is a part of him. Resurrection drained him of his strength and with out the unicorns he would not have survived. But your blood will not just sustain him; it will return him to his former self. Once he has taken his fill you will no longer be needed and he will try to kill you." Dumbledore met John's eyes and he saw understanding and resolve in their green depths. John did not trust himself to speak without betraying his emotional state. He had already shown weakness once to Dumbledore, he would not do it again. He nodded for Dumbledore to continue.

"The golden thread you speak of is a little more complicated to explain." He sighed deeply, this was the part he did not want explain. But there was no other way. Harry had to see the error of his ways and begin to believe in himself again if he was to have any hope of defeating Voldemort once and for all.

"Do you remember what I told you about love?" John nodded.

"And do you remember I told you that it was your greatest strength and the key to defeating Voldemort?" John nodded once more already not liking where this conversation was headed.

"Yes, I remember. I think that's how I defeated him before. Something… happened; there was this light and I remember thinking about my friends, about Neville and Luna. I was consumed with emotions. I don't know how that defeated Voldemort but I woke up at St Mungo's and everyone said that he was gone." He'd been at the hospital for over a week the healers had been completely unable to wake him. He could not explain what had happened, not to them or to his friends, he didn't really know himself. He'd awoken to find Hermione hovering around his bed, sleep deprivation evident on her pale face. Ron had been there too, providing much need tea and offering comfort to his girlfriend.

"You are quite correct. Your love for your friends defeated Voldemort the last time. Love is something he simply can not understand and such raw emotions harm him, for they are the opposite of everything he stands for. The power of love saved you from him; you're heart providing all the protection you needed." John was not really surprised by Dumbledore's explanation. It was just the sort of thing he expected from his old headmaster. Besides he had suspected something similar himself.

"So what was the gold thread? You still haven't told me."

"Ah, patience Harry, patience. You need to know the whole story not just the ending. We have established that love can damage Voldemort even destroy him. But what about other emotions? Such as fear, hatred or anger?"

Okay thought John, this just got a little too 'star wars' for my taste. "They lead to the dark side of the force."

"Funny. You may mock Harry but there is some truth in that statement regardless of its origin. Now where was I, ah yes," John had the good grace to look sheepish. He wasn't trying to be funny but he had to admit that this whole situation did feel a bit fairy tale-ish even to him and he had been brought up on it for God's sake.

"You and Voldemort are connected and not just by that scar. Your paths are intertwined throughout your life as are your souls." John looked shocked, his mouth snapped shut intertwined souls? That sure hadn't been in the brochure.

"What do you mean by that! My soul is nothing like his, hell he barely even has one!"

"I did not nor will I ever say such a thing! Your soul is nothing like his, but the fact does remain that your souls are connected. Because of this connection he has found a way to 'feed' off of yours. His own is mangled almost completely destroyed. But using yours he can become stronger."

John felt sick. Voldemort had taken a part of his soul? He couldn't breath. He felt dirty, cheap, used even. He struggled to control himself and after a time he managed to croak out the words "how? How can he take part of my soul, if love can kill him? I don't understand."

"I know this is difficult for you so I will try and be brief. Voldemort can not touch most of your soul, your heart. However the, shall we say 'darker' parts he can touch and he can use them to feed his own greed and hunger for power. You closed off part of you heart Harry and in doing so have unwittingly provided Voldemort with an extra power source. The thread he took from you was a thread of emotion from you heart and from you soul. Filled with your grief, pain, fears, anger and hatred for him."

A tear slid down John's cheek. He had felt the grief and the anger rise in him when Voldemort's wand had touched his bare chest. He couldn't quite believe the defence mechanism that he had used for so long was now providing fuel for his enemy. Yet Dumbledore had said it was so and he was inclined to believe his old friend, "So what now?"

Dumbledore took John's hand in his own and squeezed it gently. "Now you must return to your friends; they are waiting for you." With his other hand he touched John's cheek and wiped the tear away. "You will have to learn to open you heart once more before you can continue on your journey."

John nodded and sensing that it was time for him to leave, took the opportunity to thank his mentor. "Thank you, sir. I don't think I could have done this with out you. Will I see you again?"

As John began to fade from the room Dumbledore whispered, "Perhaps old friend. One day."