Chapter 46
Dumbledore's regrets
Harry
Harry's feet hit solid ground again, and he looked around and saw that he had arrived in Dumbledore's office. Soon after, the Magic Trio fell through the fireplace in the following order: Arthur, Lukas then Vlad. Dumbledore followed then shortly after.
The Headmaster walked over to the perch beside the door and withdrew, from an inside pocket of his robes, the tiny, ugly, featherless Fawkes, whom he placed gently on the tray of soft ashes beneath the golden post where the full-grown Fawkes usually stood.
"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said, facing Harry, "You will be pleased to hear that the rest of the students are fine… and Miss Granger has been moved to St Mungo's. Fractured ribs. We've also alerted her parents... she may be in a coma…"
Pause.
He heard Dumbledore say something else but he didn't hear, as millions of thoughts came flooding into his mind. Hermione is in a coma… Sirius… Sirius… Sirius... was... dead...
"I know how you are feeling, Harry," Dumbledore very quietly said, as Harry turned his attention back to him.
"No, you don't," Harry said, his voice strong. He won't understand. He's never been possessed by a Dark Lord before…
"There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry," Dumbledore said, "On the contrary… the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."
Harry felt a gush of anger inside him rise.
"My greatest strength, is it?" Harry said, his voice shaking, "You haven't got a clue… You don't know…"
"What don't I know?" Dumbledore calmly said.
It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage.
"I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?"
"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human—"
"THEN—I—DON'T—WANT—TO—BE—HUMAN!" Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. It shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall.
"I DON'T CARE!" Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace, "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE—" Harry grabbed the table the silver instrument was on top of to break it. He didn't care if nations who were forever bound to this sort of pain until their nations falls was in the room. They were probably use to it- Harry is just a boy-
"HARRY!" England shouted, "SIRIUS IS ALIVE!"
Harry stopped mid-motion.
"…What?" Harry said.
"He's still alive," Romania repeated England's words.
"It wasn't the killing curse that hit him, Harry. The spell was red," Norway said, "He may have appeared like he was dead but he isn't. That Lestrange person only wanted you to think that he is dead."
Harry was at a loss of words. All this anger. It was for nothing – no, it was for Hermione. Hermione was in a coma – nothing was fine. Just because Sirius is alive it doesn't mean Hermione is…
"Please sit down, Harry," Dumbledore requested. Harry hesitated, but sat down on the desk he was about to break.
"Nations, sit down too," Dumbledore said, and the nations did what he said, seating themselves on a nearby desk.
"Harry, I owe you an explanation," Dumbledore said, and turned to the nations, "And to you three too."
"You do owe us an explanation, but we also owe Harry an explanation," Romania said, "There is something we didn't tell you, Harry."
Harry stared into Romania's red eyes, which had turned slightly orange in the sunlight.
"I guessed, fifteen years ago," Dumbledore spoke, and Harry turned his head to him, "When I saw the scar upon your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort."
"You've told me this before, Professor," Harry bluntly said.
"Yes," Dumbledore apologetically said, "Yes, but you see—it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you rejoined the magical world, that I was correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion."
"I know," Harry wearily said.
"And this ability of yours—to detect Voldemort's presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused—has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers."
Harry did not bother to nod. He knew all of this already.
"More recently," Dumbledore said, "I became concerned that Voldemort might realize that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley."
"Yeah, Snape told me," Harry muttered.
"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected him quietly, "But did you not wonder why it was not I who explained this to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?"
"Yeah," Harry mumbled. "Yeah, I wondered. I also wonder why you three never bothered to tell me," he shot a glare at the Magic Trio, "Said you'd tell me everything."
"Harry, there are boundaries to everything," England said, "Now, let us continue with the explanation – you do want to know, don't you? You see Harry… Dumbledore, you can continue and have your say."
Dumbledore nodded.
"I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so," Dumbledore said, "I was sure that if he realized that our relationship was—or had ever been—closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes… I was trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you. An old man's mistake…"
"Then what about the nations? Voldemort can make me spy on them! It's only you who distanced yourself from me. They stuck around with me…" Harry said, "I think Voldemort wants Arthur more than you."
"True," Dumbledore said, "We wants the nations, Harry. But he wants to eliminate me. And he wants to eliminate you. Which is why he possessed you today- he hoped I would sacrifice you in order to kill him."
"Sirius and Romania told me that you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort from that point had realized he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort's assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape."
He paused.
So Romania- or Vlad reported things about him to Dumbledore? And Sirius too… Harry felt disappointed, and betrayed.
"Professor Snape discovered," Dumbledore resumed, "That you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Voldemort, of course, had been obsessed with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained his body, and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know what it meant.
"And then you saw Rookwood, who worked in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest, telling Voldemort what we had known all along—that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness. In this case, either Voldemort himself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic and risk revealing himself at last—or else you would have to take it for him. It became a matter of even greater urgency that you should master Occlumency.
"But I did not tell the nations what you've been dreaming about. An old man's mistake, it was. Perhaps if I told the nations about what you've been dreaming about, they would've stopped you from going tonight…"
Harry felt the sudden need to exonerate himself, that this wasn't his fault.
"I tried to check he'd really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge's office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire, and he said Sirius wasn't there, he said he'd gone!"
"Kreacher lied," Dumbledore calmly said, "You are not his master, he could lie to you without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher intended you to go to the Ministry of Magic."
"He—he sent me on purpose?"
"Oh yes. Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months."
"How?" Harry blankly said, "He hasn't been out of Grimmauld Place for years."
"Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas," Dumbledore said, "When Sirius, apparently, shouted at him to 'get out.' He took Sirius at his word and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for whom he had any respect left… Black's cousin Narcissa, sister of Bellatrix and wife of Lucius Malfoy."
"How do you know all this?" Harry said.
"Kreacher told me last night," Dumbledore said, "You see, when you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realized that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge's office. Professor Snape found that Sirius was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place.
"When, however, you did not return from your trip into the forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort's. And his worries were confirmed when Scotland came running into his office, saying that the three nations and other students have gone to get Harry and Hermione from the forest- they were heading to the Ministry, Scotland told him, and that they must contact certain members of the Order immediately."
Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and then said, "Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin were at headquarters when he made contact. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime he, Professor Snape, intended to search the forest for you.
"But Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you. He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me—laughing fit to burst—where Sirius had gone."
"He was laughing?" Harry said in a hollow voice.
"Oh yes," Dumbledore said, "You see, Kreacher was not able to betray us totally. He is not Secret-Keeper for the Order, he could not give the Malfoys our whereabouts or tell them any of the Order's confidential plans that he had been forbidden to reveal. He was bound by the enchantments of his kind, which is to say that he could not disobey a direct order from his master, Sirius. But he gave Narcissa information of the sort that is very valuable to Voldemort, yet must have seemed much too trivial for Sirius to think of banning him from repeating it."
"Like what?" Harry said.
"Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you," Dumbledore quietly said, "Like the fact that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother. Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order, that you knew where he was—but Kreacher's information made him realize that the one person whom you would go to any lengths to rescue was Sirius Black."
Harry's lips were cold and numb.
"So… when I asked Kreacher if Sirius was there last night…"
"The Malfoys—undoubtedly on Voldemort's instructions—had told him he must find a way of keeping Sirius out of the way once you had seen the vision of Sirius being tortured. Then, if you decided to check whether Sirius was at home or not, Kreacher would be able to pretend he was not. Kreacher injured Buckbeak the hippogriff yesterday, and at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Sirius was upstairs trying to tend to him."
There seemed to be very little air in Harry's lungs, his breathing was quick and shallow.
"And Kreacher told you all this… and laughed?" he croaked.
"He did not wish to tell me," Dumbledore said, "But I am a sufficiently accomplished Legilimens myself to know when I am being lied to and I—persuaded him—to tell me the full story, before I left for the Department of Mysteries."
"And," Harry whispered, "And Hermione kept telling us to be nice to him—"
"She was quite right, Harry," Dumbledore said, "I warned Sirius when we adopted twelve Grimmauld Place as our headquarters that Kreacher must be treated with kindness and respect. I also told him that Kreacher could be dangerous to us…"
"Harry, he's not having a go at Sirius," England said, just as Harry was about to shout in anger. Had he sensed it?
"And don't blame Kreacher too much, Harry," Norway said, "He was mistreated for a long time. He's as pitiful as Dobby."
"But it still was Kreacher's wrongdoing to betray the order," Romania said.
"We should move on from Kreacher," England said, "Harry, don't you want to know why you had to grow up in your aunt and uncle's house?"
Silence.
"Why could some Wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honored and delighted to raise you as a son," Dumbledore said, continuing what England has started, "My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but myself realized. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters—and many of them are almost as terrible as he—were still at large, angry, desperate, and violent. And I had to make my decision too with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Voldemort was gone forever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty, or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed you.
"I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive, not counting the nations. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power.
"But I knew too where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated—to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."
"She doesn't love me," Harry said at once, "She doesn't give a damn—"
"She still took you in, didn't She?" England said, "Even if it was in a grudging, furious, unwilling, bitter way… she still let you live in her house. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield."
"I still don't—"
"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister," Dumbledore cut him off, "Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years."
"Wait," Harry said, "Wait a moment. You sent that Howler. You told her to remember—it was your voice—"
"I thought," Dumbledore said, "That she might need reminding of the pact she had sealed by taking you. I suspected the dementor attack might have awoken her to the dangers of having you as a surrogate son."
"It did," Harry quietly said, "Well—my uncle more than her. He wanted to chuck me out, but after the Howler came she—she said I had to stay."
"Five years ago, then," Dumebledore continued, "After you faces Voldemort once again, and was lying weak in your bed in the Hospital Wing, you asked why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby, correct?"
Harry nodded.
"Ought I to have told you then?" Dumbledore said, "You do not see the flaw in the plan yet? No… perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age. I have gotten agreement from England that eleven was too young.
"And so we entered your second year at Hogwarts. And once again you met challenges even grown wizards have never faced. Once again you acquitted yourself beyond my wildest dreams… and we came very, very close to the subject when we talked. Why did I not tell you everything?
"Well, it seemed to me that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven to receive such information. I allowed you to leave my presence, bloodstained, exhausted but exhilarated, and if I felt a twinge of unease that I ought, perhaps, have told you then, it was swiftly silenced. You were still so young, you see, and I could not find it in me to spoil that night of triumph…
"Do you see, Harry? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."
"I don't—"
"I cared about you too much," Dumbledore simply said, "I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act.
"Is there a defense? I defy anyone who has watched you as I have—and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined—not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands.
"We entered your third year, and the nations came to said. I watched them too, and watched you be happy with them. They were both a protection and a new opportunity for your learning that houses didn't define people- perhaps it was to change your attitude towards Severus. I watched from afar as you struggled to repel dementors, as you found Sirius, learned what he was and rescued him. Was I to tell you then, at the moment when you had triumphantly snatched your godfather from the jaws of the Ministry? But now, at the age of thirteen, my excuses were running out. Young you might be, but you had proved you were exceptional. My conscience was uneasy, Harry. I knew the time must come soon…
"But you came out of the maze last year, having watched Cedric Diggory die and England die only to come back to life, having escaped death so narrowly yourself… having to learn the truth about the nations so abruptly and from Voldemort… and I did not tell you, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon. The nations all agreed, yet I still delayed it and distanced myself from all of you, while putting Scotland in the position of a professor that you, Harry, can talk to. And now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. My only defense is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school, and I could not bring myself to add another—the greatest one of all."
Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not speak.
"I still don't understand."
"Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he has been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you. And again, I did not tell the nations about it- I thought they may slip and tell you that the 'weapon' you believed he was searching for was actually a prophecy. A mistake, it was… not trusting nations who have lived many years more than I…"
"The prophecy's smashed," Harry said.
"The thing that smashed was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly."
"Who heard it?" Harry asked.
"I did," Dumbledore said, "On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head Inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer, and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave."
He stopped talking, and walked up to the Pensieve, and raised his wand to his own temple. From it, he withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands of thought clinging to the wand, and deposited them in the basin. Then a figure rose out of it – the was Professor Trelawney.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"
Trelawney sank back into the silver mass below and vanished. Silence engulfed the room.
"It… did that mean… What did that mean?" Harry said.
"It meant," Norway said, "That the person who has the only chance of conquering Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times."
"It means—me?"
Dumbledore started into his eyes.
"The odd thing is, Harry," he said softly, "That it may not have meant you at all. Sibyll's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom."
"But then… but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?"
"The official record was relabeled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child," Dumbledore said, "It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sibyll was referring."
"Then—it might not be me?" Harry said, slight hope in his voice.
"I am afraid," Dumbledore slowly said, "That there is no doubt that it is you."
"But you said—Neville was born at the end of July too—and his mum and dad—"
"'Voldemort himself would 'mark him as his equal,' Harry," England said, "He marked scar- that's the mark."
"But he might have chosen wrong!" Harry said, "He might have marked the wrong person!"
"He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him," Romania said, "He chose, not the pureblood, but you, the half-blood. A half-blood like himself. He saw himself in you."
"Why did he do it, then? Just tell me straightforwardly!" Harry said, "Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then—"
"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course," Dumbledore said, "Except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head Inn, which Sibyll chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sibyll Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My—our—one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."
"So he only heard…?"
"He heard only the first part, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you—again marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait or to learn more. He did not know that you would have 'power the Dark Lord knows not'—"
"But I don't!" Harry shouted in a strangled voice. "I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or—or kill them—"
"Parseltoungue, Harry," Romania said, "The reason you can speak to snakes is because of Voldemort. You may not have the same magical abilities as him, but the fact that you are a Parseltoungue proves it."
Silence again. Harry thought back to the prophecy.
"The end of the prophecy… it was something about…'neither can live…'"
"'… while the other survives,'" Dumbledore finished.
"So," Harry said, "Does… does that mean that… that one of us has got to kill the other one… in the end?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said gravely.
"And only you, Harry, can kill Voldemort," England said, "I am ashamed to say this, but the reason why I came here in the first place is because I needed to make sure you survive. Without you, I am as good as dead with Voldemort ruling every corner of my lands. I only came here to help you to help myself. I must say that Scotland reason why Scotland sent me and came himself this year is for the same reason."
"And to be very honest myself, I came here to help England but also to make sure that the dark forces didn't spread to my own territory," Romania said, and Norway gave a nod from the side.
"But, after a while, you became our friend, and not just someone to protect," Norway said, "But Voldemort is back... we can't do much of 'protecting' anymore, Harry. You need to fight."
Silence.
"Now, I think it is time for you to go and rest, Harry," Dumbledore said, "You've been through enough today. England, Romania, Norway, please escort him out."
"Have some rest yourself, Dumbledore," Norway said, before they left with Harry. Harry saw a trickle of tear flow down Dumbledore's eyes before the doors closed.
-0-0-0-
Canon melh melh.
Also, apparently it has recently been revealed that Romania's canon human name is Vladimir Popescu. Welllllll. I got the first name right! I'm not bothered to change it from Lupei, so its staying as Lupei in my fanfic.
AND I am uploading when I can. Because I make edits and re-read my stuff before uploading it, it takes time to upload. This one took 30min. And my life is being crammed with more and more deadlines and stuff now, so I try to upload when I can, and hopefully I can finish Order of Phoenix soon. I wrote about three chapters of Half-Blood Prince and thats it.
I hope I get time to write more and upload.
-PotterheadNo.04
