(And we finally reached the one chapter everyone's been dying for.)
Chapter 54: The Most Pain
Albus had always hated travelling by Floo powder… even in his old age, he hadn't have gotten used to the sensation. He let himself go spinning through the flames and smoke… he passed through dozens of other fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond — but he wasn't truly seeing anything—his thoughts on what it was that he was going to have to do once he reached his destination. Soon enough, he could feel himself slowing down and knew that the trip was over.
He held his hands out, and soon, he was climbing out of his fireplace and back in his office. Breathing the fresh air, he looked around him to see that the familiar office, which at one point would've felt warm and welcoming, had been repaired since the night of his departure. It most likely to the house-elves while he was gone.
He glanced around and spotted Harry, standing far back, with a startle expression; and he knew that he must have taken him by surprise.
As he straightened up, the portraits all gave cheers of welcome, to which he gave them all a polite, "Thank you," avoiding Harry's gaze the whole time. But this time, it was different to all the other times this year. He had been ignoring Harry for the sake of protecting him… but now, he just couldn't bear to look directly into those green eyes for what he had to do.
Instead, he walked over to Fawkes' perch, and pulled out the baby bird so that he was nested in the soft ashes. Albus smiled softly at him as he gave his head a gentle stroke—a silent thank you as well for saving him.
Now that he was here, he suddenly found that he couldn't move from where he stood. He didn't want to move… hoping that time would stop and he didn't have to do what he knew he had to. Harry didn't say a word to him, so the tension in the air was so thick that he could feel it. It was impossible not to think of what happened… the fact that they just lost Sirius…
Sirius… dead…
Albus shut his eyes tightly for that moment. He had tried to keep him safe, but in the end Voldemort used Harry's feelings for his godfather to lure him out—and Sirius paid the price for his godson's safety with his life.
At that thought, he suddenly remembered to what he promised him the night that he learnt the truth about Sirius Black…
"Promise me… that you'll protect Harry. Please, don't let anything happen to my godson; he's more precious to me than anything else in this world. I know I'm not much of a godfather… hell, I'm probably the worst one to have ever lived! But please, please protect him for me."
He opened his eyes and felt tears slowly starting to well up once again. Sirius…
Guilt rang through his soul as Fawkes looked up and chirped encouragingly. Feeling slightly braver, he took a deep breath and finally turned to Harry. "Well, Harry, you will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from the nights' events."
Harry, who was standing near the window, merely looked away and mouthed the word 'Good' though there was no sound to it. With the way Harry was refusing to look at him, he had a feeling of how much it must have hurt him to have done the same thing all year. But he did his best to push on, trying to let him know that his friends and all the others were going to be alright. "Madame Pomfrey is patching everybody up. Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St. Mungo's, but it seems she will make a full recovery."
Harry nodded at this, still not looking at him. His eyes were oddly blank, his face just contorted with misery. Albus felt his heart ache, not knowing what else to say or do to help ease this pain. For he recognized that look at once… he remembered seeing that it every time he looked in the mirror…
Harry blamed himself for Sirius's death…
"I know how you are feeling, Harry," he said softly, and suddenly, Ariana's dead eyes were looking back at him.
"No, you, don't," Harry responded, finding his voice, but this time he sounded angry.
Albus didn't say anything, but he didn't need too, for Phineas chose at that moment to speak up, "You see, Dumbledore? Never try to understand the students. They hate it. They would much rather be tragically misunderstood, wallow in self-pity, stew in their own – "
Albus looked up at him with a grim look. "That's enough, Phineas," he said before Phineas could continue his rant. Listening to Phineas now wasn't going to help things. He knew that Harry was angry… angry at what happened to Sirius… but it was anger at himself. He was lashing out the only way he knew how… because he hadn't been able to grieve properly. Depression is a result of a deep sense of loss or repressed, pent-up anger. Harry had been forced to see one of his friends killed right in front of him for no reason just a year ago, before he was tied, tortured, and almost killed as well. Add to that… the guilt and anger he had at himself for believing that it was his fault. An adult would have an extremely hard time dealing with that, but Harry was only fourteen at the time the Triwizard Tournament ended. Harry is angry, guilty, and feeling helpless about the whole thing. It is natural… he is only human.
Harry turned to face the window, his face was overshadowed with pain as he stared out of the Quidditch pitch. Albus tried again, to show him that it was alright to let out what he was feeling.
"There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry," he said softly. "On the contrary… the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."
This was what made the biggest difference between Harry and Tom. Tom doesn't feel… he cannot love. But Harry can… that was where his strength came from.
But Harry spoke again, his voice now shaking, refusing to look at him, "My greatest strength, is it?" He shook his head. "You haven't got a clue… you don't know…"
"What don't I know?" Albus asked him. He knew that he had to stay calm and allow Harry to release what was inside him. He had tried to keep him safe, but that only resulted in this resentment and short temper. He had to let him get this anger out, to be free of most of the negativity he held within, so that he could begin to grieve properly for Sirius…
Harry finally turned to look at him, anger burning in his eyes. "I don't want to talk about how I feel, alright?" he cried out, and Albus could see that he was very close to losing it. He needed to give it that one final push… he had to let him get these emotions out.
"Harry, suffering like this proves that you are still a man! This pain is part of being human – "
And he had finally pushed him too far.
"THEN – I – DON'T – WANT – TO – BE – HUMAN!" Harry roared, he then grabbed the closest item to him, which happened to be one of his silver instruments, and flung it at the wall across the room so that it shattered all over the floor into pieces.
Several portraits shrieked out of fear and anger, and Armando Dippet said, "Really!"
No, this was good for him. Harry had been keeping all this rage bottled up inside all year, and that wasn't healthy. He had to let him vent…
Harry continued his rant as he then seized hold of another instrument and broke that too. "I DON'T CARE! I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE – " and cut off, as he grabbed the table and broke that too.
Albus ignored the other portraits as Harry kept breaking everything that he could reach.
He knew that Harry had cared for Sirius deeply, and that he was coming to see Sirius as a father figure. Sirius had given him a connection to his parents, someone who loved him…
It wasn't the objects that the young man was destroying, but rather it was his words that were difficult to bear. His voice just penetrated the walls he tried to build around him this whole year. He remembered how hard he had tried to distance himself from him, hoping that Tom couldn't realize just how much he had come to care about Harry. He had hoped that if Tom thought that he saw him as no different than any other student, then he would be less tempted to try and use this connection.
But now that had all been for nothing.
At the Ministry, after Tom disappeared for that moment, in the brief period when Voldemort had possessed Harry, it had been Harry who had begged him for death. He knew that it could never have been Tom… after all, look at what he had been willing to live as for all those years of exile?
"You do care," Albus said quietly. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."
This was all true—this he knew. If he felt nothing after this, then he wouldn't be hurting like this. Albus could see it… guilt, regret, betrayal, sorrow… rage… He knew that this was where most of his pain was coming from. He kept losing parental figures and felt alone. It was because of this that he was forced to grow up so quickly without having someone there to guide him along the way.
He wished that he could go back in time and prevent this from happening; how he wished that he could have changed the past to save him from all this. This was the reason why Lily and James wanted to join the Order in the first place… so that their son could live in a world of peace… not have to live a life filled with so much loss. They wanted a world for him where he could be happy and free from war. If they could see him right now then they would be so proud—and sad.
Harry then screamed out that he didn't care, insisting that he felt nothing. But he knew that this was just a lie he was trying to convince himself with. The look on his face was filled with so much fury, Albus knew that it was only going to be a matter of time before these objects weren't enough and he would want to start attacking him.
But he went on. "Oh, yes, you do. You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care."
Being left alone to stew in his anger, guilt, and sadness—how else could Harry get that anger out in a positive way? And he knew that the Dursleys haven't helped… there truly have been no caregivers helping Harry through this. And he also knew just how frustrated he must have been at everyone for keeping him in the dark all that time. Then, he almost has his soul sucked out again by two Dementors…
As well as having this resentment fueled even further thanks to the Ministry. They wanted to expel him first for defending himself against those Dementors, and when he got a hearing it's as if they were all erratically slapping him in the face. And then there were the papers pleasantly looking in the other direction on what was really happening, while the rest of the wizarding world believed that he was some attention-seeking liar. He was also forced to endure the physical and mental torture of Dolores Umbridge with those damn detentions of hers. He looked to Harry's right hand as he finished breaking another object, and he could see the faint lines of 'I must not tell lies'.
He felt sick to himself for honestly believing that Harry was alright. He should've been able to see that not all of these terrible feelings have been coming from just himself. Not only had Harry trying to handle his own feelings, but he also has to deal with Voldemort's. He has basically been carrying around with him the thoughts and emotions of two people. It was only now did he realize that it was his own negative emotions that were making him weak against Voldemort… not his mind.
And what happened last night… Harry was almost killed by Voldemort, saw his own godfather murdered right in front of him—and again, feels that it is his fault—just as with Cedric. With all that has been happening inside him all year, it's only natural that he finally snaps. It had to happen. Harry could not have held all of that anger in forever, so he had to let it out.
And who better to vent his anger and frustration at but at him? Who better than the person who should have been helping him and guiding him but instead shut him away? Who better to storm at than the man who had refused to even look him in the eye the entire year?
"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL! YOU – STANDING THERE – YOU – " Harry yelled, shaking with rage, looking close to pulling out his wand and cursing him right now. He didn't seem to be able to find the words to explain what he was feeling—couldn't even speak in complete sentences. Albus didn't react at all, knowing that this was what he needed most right now… not medicine, or sleep… he needed to be rid of all those negative emotions…
But even as he yelled and destroyed everything his hands were touching… Albus knew that Harry was wrong about one thing. After all, he knew better than anyone how it felt to feel as if you lost everything. He too had lost his own family… he lost his parents, his sister, and—in a sense—his little brother. Since that day, he had constantly blamed himself for all of that… he might not know someone's particular feelings are all the time… but he could understand Harry's very well.
When Ariana was attacked by those Muggle boys, she was left mentally and emotionally scarred by the event and her magic grew to become random, and even destructive. Their father was heartbroken and set out in search of his own brand of justice and was imprisoned for it. Years later, after his mother's death and he had been forced to return home to care for his siblings, Ariana was killed in a battle with him, Aberforth, and Gellert. Because of this, all he had left of his family was a broken relationship with his brother. So, in a way, he no longer had any family left.
This pain of which may have been the basis for his deep affection for Harry. But the difference was, Harry still had his friends… he had countless people who loved him and would be there for him. There was just something special about him that drew people around him without even asking. Something that he had always admired, and even envied, about him.
He watched as Harry's eyes began looking all over, and he knew that it was a way to escape. Harry didn't wish to talk, or even look at him anymore; all he wanted was to leave this room where he couldn't look at him. He turned out to be right, for Harry turned and ran to the door and tried to open it.
However, the door was still locked from when he left, and he wasn't going to let him leave this time… not until he finally came out and told him what he should have told him long ago. Once he was finished telling him everything, then he would allow him to do what he wanted.
Harry turned back to him, still tugging on the door—desperate to leave. "Let me out," he said, his whole body now shaking with fury.
Albus gave him a sad look and shook his head. "No," he said softly. A part of him just wanted to let him out… but he also knew that even though it's difficult to speak of traumatic experiences so soon after they happen, sometimes it's necessary. In order to understand what fully happened, it often is best to speak of it right away.
"Let me out," Harry repeated, this time more sharply.
Again Albus told him no.
"If you don't – if you keep me in here – if you don't let me – " Harry started to threaten, still tugging on the door, unable to finish what he wanted to say, those his meaning was clear.
Albus then said, "By all means continue destroying my possessions. I dare say I have too many."
He couldn't have cared less for the objects that now lay in broken fragments on the floor. They were repairable… but a person's heart wasn't nearly as easy to heal. If destroying everything he owned helped to keep the boy from destroying himself, then it would be more than worth it.
He slowly walked back to his desk, and sat down, never taking his eyes off him. He was going to let him see that he was going to show him that he wanted to help him. He wasn't going to let him leave until he heard him out.
Harry was breathing low and hard. And when he spoke again, in was in a much calmer, but cold as ice voice, "Let me out."
Albus took a deep breath and said firmly, "Not until I've had my say."
Harry glared at him. "Do you – do you think I want to – do you think I give a – I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY!" he finally exploded. He turned back and was now tugging on the door with such force that he might just force it open if he kept at it for much longer. "I don't want to hear anything you've got to say!"
He knew that Harry was not rational enough to be thinking through what he was saying. He knew that he must have been the last person that he wanted to talk to right now. It was only fair after all… he hadn't been acting as if he cared all year. He remembered when he heard his portraits reported to him not long after the year began. Saying how that his scar was all he seemed to care about.
He shook his head again. That wasn't true in the slightest; though he could see on why he would think that. After all, all he had done was keep him in a cage since the end of last year. And he should have known that would result in nothing but pain. For when you lock a beast in a cage, it was going to get mad and when it does finally break out… it hurts itself, and others in the process.
Harry's anger was the beast that had finally escaped.
He had to prevent that from happening again and went on, "You will. Because you are not nearly as angry with me as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly earned it." He tried to speak without showing any emotions, but his sadness and his own guilt managed to slip through.
That got Harry's attention. Breathing hard, he stopped pulling on the door and slowly looked up at him. "What are you talking – ?" he began, clearly not understanding what he was saying.
Albus took a deep breath and said slowly and clearly, "It is my fault that Sirius died." He then added, "Or should I say, almost entirely my fault – I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole."
He hoped that Harry could also learn to do the same, but he continued, "Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger." Harry flinched a little at those words. Albus shouldn't have shut Sirius up in Grimmauld place like how he did… he had convinced himself that it was for his own safety, but he should've been able to see how it would end. He should have allowed Sirius to leave on missions once in awhile… to get him out of that house… but there wasn't anything that they could do about it now. He pushed those thoughts away for the moment, there would be time to grieve later.
"Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight," he said firmly. "If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try and lure you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have come after you. That blame lies with me, and me alone."
Now Harry was fully paying attention to him. He was still standing with a hand on the door knob, but he was now staring at him, looking completely bewildered.
"Please, sit down," he asked, hoping that Harry calmed down enough for him to be willing to listen. The longer that he prolonged this, the more difficult it seemed to become. Harry hesitated for a moment, and then very slowly, he walked over and sat in the chair in front of his desk. But he could see that he was still very tense, looking ready to jump up and start breaking things again.
Albus was just about to open his mouth again when Phineas Nigellus spoke again, but not in his usual sarcastic tone—and Albus almost forgot that he had a connection to Sirius as well. "Am I to understand that my great-great-grandson – the last of the Blacks – is dead?"
He looked up at him and said softly, "Yes, Phineas."
Phineas stared at him, before he said briskly, "I don't believe it." Phineas then walked out of his portrait without another word, and he knew that he was going to go to visit his other painting back at Grimmauld Place and see for himself.
He looked at the empty canvas for a brief second before he looked to Harry again; wondering just how to begin. Finally, he decided at the beginning. "Harry, I owe you an explanation. An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done and have not done with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it is like to be young… and I seem to have forgotten, lately…" he confessed. Yes, he had forgotten. He had tried so hard to convince himself that there was still time… that Harry was too young to take all this in…
But he had forgotten what it was like to be young as well. Youth always hated to be treated as if they were too young—to be treated as if they couldn't understand. He could see now that Harry had been ready for this knowledge a long time ago. He stared off at the sun through the window that was just beginning to rise before he looked back to Harry and explained, "I guessed, fifteen years ago, when I saw that scar on your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort."
Harry suddenly interrupted darkly, "You've told me this before, Professor."
"Yes," he nodded apologetically, but he had to start at the beginning. It was easier for him to start off with what they both knew. "Yes, but you see – it's 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 feeling powerful emotion." He knew what was inside him… what had happened that night, but he had prayed and prayed for proof that he was wrong. However, instead, he kept getting more and more proof that his theory was correct.
But those dark thoughts were interrupted when Harry answered back in a weary voice that he was already aware of all of this.
"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."
He stopped here for a brief second, wondering if Harry would say anything, he didn't so he went on, "More recently, 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."
Harry gave a jerk of the head as he said gloomily, "Yeah, Snape told me."
"Professor Snape," he corrected him gently, ignoring the annoyed look he was giving him. But Albus then asked him, knowing that he was very well making him angry again, "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?"
Harry froze and slowly glanced up into his eyes. Albus could see the hurt in his own eyes as they met his… that had been hard for both of them… he didn't like pushing him farther away anymore than he did.
"Yeah," Harry said carefully, but still not letting his guard down. "Yeah, yeah I wondered."
It was getting a little easier to keep talking now, "You see, 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. I was sure that if he realized that our relationship was – or ever had been – closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me."
That had been his biggest fear. That Tom would realize that this connection could be put to use. The idea that his very presence was a danger to him was what scared him worst out of everything else this year. It had been the driving force behind his actions. "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…"
He remembered those few moments when he saw the flicker of red behind those green eyes and Harry was staring at him, as if he knew exactly what he was saying. He then went on to explain that he had done it all to try and protect him. "Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight," he said and saw Harry flinch softly at the memory of what happened in the Atrium, "Would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. He hoped, when he possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing him. I have been trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you. An old man's mistake…"
He remembered back at the Ministry when Harry had just begged to die. He couldn't do it. He knew that should he have been left with no other choice, he could never have lived with himself. It had taken years for him to be able to look in a mirror again after Ariana's death, but to kill another who was so like her would have killed him.
Even if it could have meant that the war would end, he wouldn't ever have been able to forgive himself. He looked at him again… Harry and Ariana… it was almost like he was looking at her spirit inside the boy's and that was like putting salt into a wound. It hurt so badly.
But when he looked up and saw those green eyes, it changed… instead of seeing Ariana, he saw a younger version of himself looking back at him. For he knew that same look of guilt and pain all too well… As he waited for Harry to speak, he could tell from his lifeless motions that Harry no longer cared what he had to say. All of this information meant nothing compared to Sirius's death.
"Sirius told me you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack," he added grimly. "I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort had realized he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort's assault on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape."
He could see now that having Severus try and teach him had just been another mistake. He was very much like his father…
He stopped himself. He had to stop this. He hated comparing Harry to others… such as Ariana or even as James. Harry was his own person and they were different. He thought Severus could get over his hatred of James, if he could see his memories. To overcome his hatred and finally leave his past behind, but he is too blinded. He always tried to find excuses for his past actions… he blamed James for everything that happened. He blamed James for losing Lily and joining the Death Eaters.
Severus just didn't want to admit that everything that happened in his life were because of his own actions. At the time, he wanted power over Lily… it was a lesson that most often learn the hard way. The sad fact out of life is that you can't have everything. You must always make sacrifices in life and Severus just chose wrong at the time. But it was easier for him to live with himself by just blaming James. And his hatred for Harry was because Harry was a living reminder that Lily had loved another.
Severus wanted to hate James… that hatred for him was the only thing that seemed to help ease his own sense of guilt.
Only now did he fully realize just how strong his hate was.
"Professor Snape discovered that you had been dreaming about the corridor 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," he said explained more. "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."
And of course, Harry didn't know that. He never understood just why it was so important. But now, he was sitting there, staring at him in horror. "But I didn't," he croaked out. "I didn't practice, I didn't bother, I could've stopped myself having those dreams, Hermione kept telling me to do it, if I had he'd never have been able to show me where to go, and – Sirius wouldn't – Sirius wouldn't –"
Harry cut himself off, unable to continue for a brief moment. Albus could see that just mentioning Sirius's name was painful for him and now he had just found out that he could've stopped himself from ever seeing that vision. He looked up at him and said hurriedly, with a hint of a plea in his voice, "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!"
Albus could only give him a sad look. He knew that this was going to be another terrible shock for him, but he had to know the whole truth of what happened here tonight.
"Kreacher lied," he confessed. "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."
Harry's jaw dropped open in disbelief. "He – he sent me on purpose?"
"Oh yes," he answered him. "Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months."
"How?" asked Harry, looking stunned. "He hasn't been out of Grimmauld place for years."
"Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas 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 told him. He explained how Kreacher had then gone to Narcissa Malfoy, how even slightest aggravated command of Sirius had allowed Kreacher to leave the house, interpreting it as a demand to leave Grimmauld place.
"How do you know all this?" Harry questioned weakly.
"Kreacher told me last night," he explained to him. "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."
He wanted Harry to see that, despite everything, Severus was on their side—to help him get over his own hatred of Severus, even if their Potion's Master refused to do so. "When, however, you did not return from your trip to the Forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort's. He alerted certain Order members at once."
He sighed tiredly, and forced himself to keep speaking. "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 happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime, he, Professor Snape, intended to search the Forest for you."
Harry just sat there, frozen in his seat, as if he was sure that this was a nightmare he was listening to. Albus took another deep breath and said, "But Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you."
'Of course he didn't,' he added mournfully in his thoughts. He cared about his godson and wanted out of that house. He wasn't going to wait around for the others to go get him. If Harry was in danger, he wanted to be the first one there. He was aware of the fact that Sirius had always felt a great deal of guilt over Lily and James's deaths and had always blamed himself for the fact that Harry grew up without parents. Sirius felt as if he let him down before then he would have felt that he couldn't live with himself if he knew that Harry was in danger and he didn't do anything to help.
"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. You see, Kreacher was not able to betray us totally," he told him. "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 valuable information of the sort that is very valuable to Voldemort, yet must have seemed too trivial for Sirius to think of banning him from repeating it."
"Like what?" Harry enquired, his tone now empty.
His eyes soften and he told him honestly, "Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you. 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, and that you knew where he was – but Kreacher's information made him realize that the one person for whom you would go to any lengths to rescue was Sirius Black."
"So…" Harry whispered out, hardly audible, "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," he informed him. "Then, if you decided to check whether Sirius was 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 tending to him."
Harry's breaths were low and hard, almost as if he was choking. And when he spoke again, he looked as if he was about to be sick. "And Kreacher told you all this… and laughed?"
"He did not wish to tell me, 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," he said truthfully.
Harry shook his head, looking down at the floor, his tone was full of anger once again as his hands curled into such tight fists that they were shaking, and the white scars on the back of his hand were clearer than ever. "And, and Hermione kept telling us to be nice to him –"
"She was quite right, Harry," Albus interrupted him. Yes, Kreacher betrayed Sirius, but it was in a way similar to how Dobby betrayed the Malfoys. Though Kreacher wasn't abused like Dobby was, he was certainly neglected. "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. I do not think Sirius took me very seriously, or that he ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human's – "
Harry looked up at once, his eyes glowing with new fury. "Don't you blame – don't you – talk – about Sirius like – Kreacher's a lying – foul – he deserved – "
But he broke him off, gently correcting him, "Kreacher is what he has been made by wizards, Harry. Yes, he is to be pitied. His existence has been as miserable as your friend Dobby's. He was forced to do Sirius' bidding, because Sirius was the last of the family to which he was enslaved, but he felt no true loyalty to him. And whatever Kreacher's faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher's lot easier – "
But he said the wrong thing.
"DON'T TALK ABOUT SIRIUS LIKE THAT!" Harry yelled, his rage now back in full swing. He stood up at once again, pacing the room furiously. Albus should have guessed that this would happen. Harry was too emotional to see the whole thing through right now. Now that he knew what Kreacher had done, it wasn't going to be easy for Harry to forgive Kreacher… if ever.
"What about Snape?" Harry suddenly demanded as he paced. It seemed as though Severus wasn't the only one who wanted to find someone to blame. "You're not talking about him, are you? When I told him Voldemort had Sirius he just sneered at me as usual – "
He gently defended Severus, aware of the risks that he took to help protect Harry and the school. At that moment, he wanted so badly to tell him the truth about how Severus felt about Lily—but he kept his mouth shut tightly about that. He had promised Severus, and he had to keep it, even though it would have been easier for everyone.
"Harry, you know Professor Snape had no choice but to pretend not to take you seriously in front of Dolores Umbridge, but as I have explained, he informed the Order as soon as possible about what you had said. It was he who deduced where you had gone when you did not return from the Forest. It was he, too, who gave Professor Umbridge fake Veritaserum when she attempted to force you to tell her Sirius' whereabouts."
Harry continued on, "Snape – Snape g – goaded Sirius about staying in the house – he made out Sirius was a coward – "
Now Severus had taunted Sirius to get some semblance of justice for what he had suffered at the hands of the Marauders during his school days. Though they were both adults and should have been able to handle that. "Sirius was much too old and clever to have allowed such feeble taunts to hurt him."
"Snape stopped giving me Occlumency lessons! He threw me out of his office!" Harry snarled, trying to find a reason to justify his blaming of Severus. And here, Harry was right… though his anger should have been directed towards him, not Severus.
He sighed heavily, "I am aware of it. I have already said that it was a mistake for me not to teach you myself, though I was sure at the time, that nothing could have been more dangerous than to open your mind even further to Voldemort while in my presence – "
Though his fears had been correct, he hadn't gone about the right way to deal with them. Harry then cut him off, "Snape made it worse, my scar always hurt worse after lessons with him – how do you know he wasn't trying to soften me up for Voldemort, make it easier for him to get inside my – "
He interrupted firmly, "I trust Severus Snape. But I forgot – another old man's mistakes – that some wounds run too deep for healing. I thought Professor Snape could overcome his feelings about your father – I was wrong."
Though Severus blamed James for everything that was wrong with his life, he knew that Severus had no one to blame but himself for the choices he made. But in the end, he turned his life around. He knew that he truly regretted his earlier decisions, and had done his best to make up for them. This feud between Severus and James wasn't going to end easily. But the truth was that there had to be forgiveness from both sides or else nothing was ever going to change. But to have to pass this hatred onto another generation was just tragic to him…
"But that's okay, is it?" Harry went on with his rant, "its okay for Snape to hate my dad, but it's not okay for Sirius to hate Kreacher?"
He shook his head at him. "Sirius did not hate Kreacher. He regarded him as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike… the fountain we destroyed tonight told a lie. We wizards have mistreated and abused our fellows for too long, and now we are reaping our rewards."
Kreacher wasn't the only one either. All that meant Harry as well. By leaving him with the Dursleys, he might have just locked him inside that house himself. He was aware of the neglect he suffered, considering what he knew of Petunia, and what Arabella had told him when she kept watch over him. The neglect he faced there did more damage to him than anything else… and once again, Albus was having that shoved back into his face.
"SO SIRIUS DESERVED WHAT HE GO, DID HE?" Harry suddenly exploded, breaking through his thoughts.
He responded quietly, "I did not say that, nor will you ever hear me say it. Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated."
"Yeah, he did hate it!" Harry said fiercely, his voice shaking, walking away, his back to him. "You made him stay shut up in that house and he hated it, that's why he wanted to get out last night – "
That he couldn't deny. Yes, he had kept Sirius locked up there, but he hadn't meant for this to happen. He wanted to keep Sirius safe… he truly meant what he said to Sirius when he first told him to remain in Grimmauld Place. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing Harry lose anymore than he had already.
"I was trying to keep him alive," he said softly.
But his words just seemed to make him even angrier for he spun around and yelled at him, "People don't like being locked up! You did it to me all last summer!"
Those words were like a slap in the face. The truth was however that he was right…
He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, unable to face him. He had moved on from blaming Severus… and to him. He could understand thought even if it made him feel as if his insides were shriveling up in shame. Harry truly thought that he didn't care for him at all. And though he had every right to think that, it was far from true.
He remembered when he was eleven and stepping up to the Sorting Hat. He was very small and thin… clearly showing signs of neglect, but his eyes were shinning in excitement as well as fear as he looked around. When he watched him go up to try the Hat on and then heading to the Gryffindor table, Albus had been able to forget all about those terrible words that spoke of war and the downfall of Voldemort.
Seeing that young child, and being able to act like one, was better than anything he thought.
But as the years went on, and he watched that same child overcome one ordeal after another, he began to see that young child fading fast… he didn't want to see that child innocence fade.
He couldn't bring himself to tell him.
He allowed Harry to be justifiably angry and destructive here to try and ease some of that crushing guilt, but that didn't change the fact that he had been wrong about so many things. He expected Sirius to stay hidden, hoping it would keep him alive. He was wrong about Snape's ability to overcome his hatred of James in trying to teach Harry about Occlumency. He regrets both leaving Harry with the Dursleys and not telling him about the prophecy. But he had feared his concern for Harry would make him vulnerable to possession by Voldemort. From the moment that he placed Harry at the Dursleys, it was as if he placed him inside a cage. Even after those difficult ten years, Hogwarts had become just an even bigger cage for him.
For the first time, he wanted to beg for forgiveness and confesses to his selfishness and why he did what he had done. Taking a deep breath, he finally looked up at him again and said, "It is time for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything."
When Harry didn't make any attempts to move he requested quietly, "I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me – to do whatever you like – when I have finished. I will not stop you."
He didn't know how Harry was going to react once he learns everything. But whether or not he yell or continue destroying these meaningless items… he would let him.
Still breathing hard, Harry glared at him with narrow eyes before he marched back and sat down—waiting.
Albus looked outside the window at the slowly glowing sky, trying to draw strength for what he had to do. Finally, knowing that delaying anything else was pointless he looked back and said to him, "Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole as I planned and intended. Well – not quite whole," he added quietly, thinking of all those ten terrible years. "You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years."
He paused here for a brief moment, waiting to see if Harry would say anything. He had just confessed that he knew of the terrible household that he had been forced to grow up in after all. Harry didn't say anything, but he was glaring coldly back at him.
"You might ask – and with good reason – why it had to be so," he went on. "Why could some wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, and would have been honored and delighted to raise you as a son."
But the most important was to ensure that little boy had as much protection as possible, and Lily's sisters' family provided that… no matter how grudgingly.
"My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but I realized. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters – and many of them are almost as terrible as he is – were still at large, angry, desperate and violent."
He thought of Bellatrix as one of his prime examples and knew that she, and many others, would have loved the chance to kill they boy for what happened to their master. "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."
Harry still didn't say anything, so he felt that it was safe to continue on, "I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. 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."
But there was still more to that. Apart from the blood wards, he knew that he would have been safer in the Muggle world with family, than in the wizarding world with a friend, even if Sirius had been proven to be innocent.
He knew that there would also be those who would provoke outcry against his placement. If Harry did not go to family who had an unquestionable claim, namely his aunt by blood, than there was a good chance that could have been sent to anywhere else. Knowing what government and politics were like, he had little doubt that the 'Boy-Who-Lived' would have been given to those who would use Harry to their own advantage, or alternatively he could have become as spoiled as Dudley Dursley was. He could imagine what would happen if someone like Umbridge or Fudge was given custody. While he was deeply upset about Harry's treatment, there's no telling what could have happened otherwise.
But Harry spoke up saying bitterly, "She doesn't love me. She doesn't give a damn – "
"But she took you," he interrupted softly. "She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet she still took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you."
He didn't say anything else, but Albus could see the sadness in his eyes at the reminder that his own family had never wanted him. But rather than say anything like that, he said, "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 explained simply. "He shed her blood but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you still call it home, whilst you are 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."
For a second, Harry didn't react, but then his eyes widen slightly as he sat up in his chair, staring at him. "Wait… wait a moment," he said in a hushed tone. "You sent that Howler. You told her to remember – it was your voice – "
He nodded his head slightly and explained, "I thought 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 admitted quietly, running his hand through his hair in a bewildered way. "Well – my uncle more than her. He wanted to chuck me out, but after the Howler came she – she said I had to stay."
He fell silent again as he let him digests this new information. But soon, Harry asked him, "But what's this got to do with – " He stopped at once, it seemed that he couldn't bring himself to say Sirius's name.
So he continued as if there had been no questions, "Five years ago, then, you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far my plan was working well."
Harry had turned out to be very different from both of his parents. Though he resembled them in many ways, his personality wasn't as audacious or outgoing as they were. He was much more shy and had very low self-esteem. He didn't go out of his way to pull jokes nor did he laugh as much like his father… but he wasn't as bold and free-spirited as his mother had been either.
He'd seen it with his own eyes; people watching Harry wherever he went, hoping to catch a glimpse of the famous scar. A child who had suffered badly in his brief life and yet he took it all in stride. He retained his morals and his compassion when other simply would have given up. If there was anyone he should admire it would be the fifteen-year-old in front of him.
He then went on to explain about his first year. "And then… well, you will remember the events of your first year at Hogwarts quite as clearly as I do. You rose significantly to the challenge that faced you and sooner – much sooner – than I had anticipated, you found yourself face to face with Voldemort. You survived again. You did more. You delayed his return to full power and strength. You fought a man's fight. I was… prouder of you than I can say."
He couldn't hide the pride that was coming through on his voice. Even at the tender age of eleven, a child had proven to him that he was a better man than he was. Even then, he could see that Harry was a leader of superior quality to himself, as Harry led because others looked to him to lead them rather than because he had ever sought power or authority for himself.
But…
"Yet there was a flaw in this wonderful plan of mine. An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undoing of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my plan should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as you lay in the hospital wing, weak from your struggle with Voldemort."
And that was where it all went wrong.
Harry was shaking his head, clearly not getting what he meant. "I don't understand what you're saying."
"Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby?" he asked him, the words now becoming painful.
Harry nodded.
"Ought I to have told you then?" he asked him simply.
Harry stared at him, his eyes widening.
"You do not see the flaw in the plan yet?" he asked, thinking it over. "No… perhaps not," he added to himself. "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." And though he had believed it at the time, he also knew that Harry had proven himself that he could take it.
"I should have recognized the danger signs then," he said, wondering if he was speaking to himself or to Harry now. "I should have asked myself why I did not feel more disturbed that you had already asked me the question to which I knew, one day, I must give a terrible answer. I should have recognized that I was too happy to think that I did not have to do it on that particular day… you were too young, much too young." Why hadn't he questioned himself more? Why didn't he already realize that he was heading for disaster?
"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," he whispered. "You did not ask me again, however, why Voldemort had left that mark on you. We discussed your scar, oh yes…" he added as he thought back to their talk after they had emerged from the Chamber of Secrets. "We came very close to the subject. Why did I not tell you everything?"
Simple… he had already fallen prey to what he had known was going to happen. He remembered how afraid the boy had been—about how he feared of the similarities that he had with Voldemort—and how he questioned himself on belonging in Gryffindor.
"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, to have told you then, it was swiftly silenced. You were still so young, you see, and I could not find it in myself to spoil that night of triumph…" he then stopped, hating himself for what he allowed to happen.
"Do you see, Harry?" he asked him. "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 – " Harry started but Albus cut him off by coming out and saying it simply.
"I cared about you too much. 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."
Harry stared at him, as if he couldn't understand why anyone would care for him so. But he hadn't been watching himself as Albus had. He knew Lily and James well and watched as Harry grew up and did incredible things. How could he not grow to care for him? Though Harry may come to believe it or not, he did come to love and trust him. Harry was not a pawn to him. Maybe that was all he wished that was all Harry ever was to him. He knew what Harry had to face and sacrifice and do, and he wanted him to be prepared for what his future held. He saw what the boy went through and how he rallied against setbacks: he didn't watch any other student this closely.
"Is there a defense?" he asked finally tell him the truth. "I defy anyone who has watched you as closely as I have – and I have watched you more closely than you could have imagined – " he was careful not to look at his portraits, who were all glancing at each other nervously, "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 would have such a person on my hands."
He stopped to breathe hard as he thought back to himself as a young man… right after he had returned to the school as a teacher. If someone had told him that he would been in this situation, he would never believe them. He then said, "We entered your third year. I watched from afar as you struggled to repel Dementors, as you found Sirius, learned what he was and rescued him."
Harry flinched a little at Sirius's name as he reminded him the joy he felt when he learned the truth about his godfather. "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," he heard his mouth then say, "Having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so narrowly yourself… and I did not tell you, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon." He remembered seeing the empty look in his green eyes that day… the same eyes that were looking at him now, and he knew that he couldn't bare the idea of dropping this on him after everything that had happened that night. "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."
He fell silent.
He knew that he needed to keep going, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Throughout his long life, there had always been a part of him that always lamented the fact that he never had children. In a way, perhaps that is why he was a little jealous of Sirius.
He didn't want to admit that he had come to care about Harry as like a son. He didn't want to admit that he had grown to love him.
Yet he never noticed. Never noticed even after he had watched him all these years; even after seeing him grow up and learn more about himself did he figure it out. How he had watched him at Quidditch and felt pride inside him. How he disapproved of his sneaking around, yet he couldn't seem to bring himself to punish him…
Harry is a brave young man with a kind heart, and he had grown to be as proud as any father would be. But more than anything, he realized that he had fallen prey to a parent's weakness; he cares more about Harry's happiness and wellbeing than the wizarding world. As a teacher and headmaster, he always has to be able to be a little removed from his students. However, somewhere along the way, Harry's happiness becomes his chief concern. The "greater good" is nameless and faceless, but Harry is a real boy who needed his protection and yet has more heart and soul than anyone could ever imagine.
He had told himself that the prophecy was too much information at such a young age so many times, that he had come to believe it. He did so much to try and protect him, but he failed. It was now he was reminded that there were just some things that even he couldn't protect people from. He was so focused on protecting Harry from the truth, he didn't realize what was actually best for them. That was the downside of loving someone.
Adults often refuse to believe that all children grow up. It is an inevitable fact of life, and, no matter how hard they try, they can only shelter them for so long. Some children grow up too quickly however… and for them they are already far too aware of the harsh reality of the world. The worst mistake that adults can make, is to try to keep those children in their youth. Harry had been stripped of his childhood, and for that Albus blame himself. He wanted to try and make up for that by allowing him fleeting moments he could savor, to be a kid.
They sat like that for a long time—neither one of them saying a word. Until, finally, Harry said in barely more than a whisper, "I still don't understand."
Albus let out a large breath, and finally confessed, "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 the prophecy in its entirety."
His breathing seemed to be becoming more and more painful with each word he forced himself to speak. "This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you."
Harry stared at him with a mixture of shock and horror. He opened his mouth but no words came out—it was as if he forgotten how. After about a minute however, he seemed to have found his voice and croaked out, "The prophecy's smashed."
He was now talking to himself, as if to convince himself, "I was pulling Neville up those benches in the – the room where the archway was, and I ripped his robes and it fell…" Harry's voice seemed to catch as he mentioned the archway.
Albus's eyes saddened as he explained, "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."
Harry blinked and asked, "Who heard it?"
"I did," he answered him gently. And so he told him about how he had met Sybill, though he didn't mention her by name. How he had told her that she hadn't gotten the job and how he had turned to leave.
Feeling older than he had in a long time, he stood up and walked passed him to retrieve the Pensieve. Though it was only a few steps from his desk, he felt as if he had just walked a mile to and from the cabinet. He picked it up and stared at the swirling substance for a moment, as if hoping for some kind of answer to a question he was dying to ask it.
But he slowly made his way back to the desk and set it down in front of them as he retook his seat. His mind was a flood of mixed emotions; he was deeply regretting that this prophecy ever had been made in the first place. If this had never been made, could it have stopped Voldemort from killing Harry's parents… yet, would he still be powerful and still in power? He wished he knew… but that's not important now.
Slowly, he pulled out his wand and thought hard about that night at the Hog's Head. He pulled the single memory from his mind and gently let it drop into the Pensieve. With a determination he wasn't feeling, he finally let Harry hear the truth… the truth that he had kept quiet from everyone else for almost seventeen years.
And suddenly the room was filled with Sybill's voice—a voice unlike her usual one…
"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…"
The words ended and the memory of Sybill sank back into the basin.
The silence was deafening. Even after all these years, the prophecy still sent waves of cold through him. Albus couldn't bear to look at Harry as he stared at the Pensieve… waiting for Harry to speak. He knew that Harry was capable of doing it… he knew that for almost as long as he had known him. But he couldn't help but curse that prophecy as well. Curse it for how much pain it had put one soul through.
Finally, Harry's voice spoke up, "Professor Dumbledore?" His voice suddenly sounded so small… he sounded as if he was holding back a choke. "It… did that mean… what did that mean?" he finally whispered in hardly more than a whisper.
Albus didn't want to answer him. But he knew he had no choice… he forced himself to look up at him and said, "It meant that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord 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."
Harry was staring at him, his breathing hard and loud as he asked, "It means – me?"
Albus swallowed, his throat didn't seem to be working properly for him and said softly, knowing that he had to tell him everything. "The odd thing, Harry, is that it may have meant you at all. Sybill'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."
Harry looked startled at that, and stammered, "But then… but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?"
"The official record was re-labeled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child," he explained. "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 one to whom Sybill was referring."
There was now a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes as he then said, as if hoping that he would agreed with him, "Then – it might not be me?"
Albus felt his chest constrict painfully as he knew he had to destroy that hope. To have to force that little light to leave his eyes again. He was basically going to tell him that there was no other way out of this nightmare. He then spoke, every word seemed to be like knives cutting his throat, "I am afraid, that there is no doubt that it is you."
But Harry was shaking his head, denying what he just said, refusing to believe it. "But you said – Neville was born at the end of July, too – and his mum and dad – "
"You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final identifying feature of the boy who could vanquish Voldemort…" he interrupted gently. "Voldemort himself would mark him as his equal." And what little color that was left in Harry's face left as he realized that it was true. "And so he did, Harry. He chose you, not Neville. He gave you the scar that has proved both blessing and curse."
But Harry kept shaking his head, not wanting to accept it. "But he might have chosen wrong! He might have marked the wrong person!"
He knew how painful it was for him to acknowledge this, but he continued on, "He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him. And notice this, Harry: he chose, not the pure-blood (which according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing) but the half blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in making you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future…"
'A future full of pain and uncertainty however,' said a nasty voice in the back of his head. Who would ever wish for such a life?
But he finished by saying, "Which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far – something that neither your parents, or Neville's parents, ever achieved."
Harry was gaping like a fish out of water and finally cried out, gripping his hair tightly, "Why did he do it, then? 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 – "
'Yes, but that might have changed everything,' Albus thought. If Voldemort never went after Harry when he was a baby, Harry would be a completely different person. In a way, Voldemort created the Harry sitting across from him right now. "That might, indeed, have been the more practical course except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head inn, which Sybill chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele that 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 Sybill Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My – our – one stroke of good fortune," he added in an afterthought, "was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."
He didn't tell him who had been the one who heard it—for he knew that any hopes of Harry trusting Severus would then become impossible.
Harry was shaking a little as he leaned in and asked, "So he only heard – ?"
"He only heard the beginning," Albus confirmed for him, "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 risk transferring power to you, and marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait, to learn more. He did not know that you would have power the Dark Lord knows not – "
But Harry was now looking close to panicking here. "But I don't! 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 – "
He didn't have to. Because he had so much more than Tom ever will. He then interrupted him by answering, "There is a room in the Department of Mysteries that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intellect, than the forces of human nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there."
This was what made him so different from Tom… Love.
Harry can love others—despite all the pain and hardships he had been through, his heart is still as pure as it had been when he was eleven. He may act recklessly at times… he can be hot-headed and short tempered even… but his actions had always been straight and unwavering… much like a child's.
It's basically a battle of good vs. evil here. Because Tom cannot understand love to such a degree that it has become physical agony for him. He now learned what it meant to try and take control of Harry tonight… pain. He was now confident that Tom would never try that again. Love is the weapon… that is rather fitting as love is something truly powerful which overcomes all things, he truly didn't think that Tom stands a chance against that.
"It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession from Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you."
Harry sat there, seemed too stunned to be able to speak. He closed his eyes and leaned forward onto his knees so that he could cover his face with his hands. Albus knew that no matter what he said, Harry would never be able to forgive himself for Sirius's death. Suddenly, Harry asked in a dull voice, "The end of the prophecy… it was something about… neither can live…"
"While the other survives," he answered simply—fearing this part of the prophecy more than anything else.
"So…" Harry whispered, looking back up at him—his eyes were filled with despair and sadness. Albus felt as if his heart was being torn in two… if there was some way that he could take this burden from him, he would. To set him free from this terrible fate, he would trade places with him in a heartbeat.
"So, does that mean that… that one of us has got to kill the other one… in the end?" Harry asked him slowly.
He didn't want to answer… it was the one thing that he didn't want to say. To say it out loud would be like giving him a death sentence. But instead he felt his mouth respond for him… "Yes…"
For a long time, neither of them spoke. They both just sat there even long after the sun had risen and they could hear the sounds of students heading down to the Great Hall for their breakfast.
It was almost impossible to believe that so much can happen—can change—in just one night.
Harry's face was contorted in misery… the mental and emotional kind that was threatening to tear him apart. He was just sitting there processing the information he had just been given; taking the knowledge that he was cursed in. As Albus looked out the window, he could see the owls swooping over the grounds and heading in the direction of the Great Hall for the student's mail. Just then, he realized that in less than an hour, the whole wizarding world would know that Voldemort was back. That soon they would all see that the only ones who had been telling lies had been the Ministry for the last year. Albus also knew he would soon be flocked with messages from the Ministry and the Aurors, and that the Order would be contacting him with new information… but at the moment, he couldn't have cared less. For right now—there was nothing more important to him at that moment than the suffering boy across from him.
How the boy would deal, Albus didn't know. He knew that Harry was strong, but everyone had a limit, a line not to be crossed. Albus wished he knew what to do, what to say to him to help ease this pain.
He felt like an idiot. Everything that had happened to Harry, seemed to happened because it was his fault. He either had made a mistake, ignored something important, or had planned something that endangered Harry's life. How could he ever be able to ask for forgiveness?
Suddenly, he remembered something else. After the events in the Graveyard and the reaction of the Ministry to Voldemort's return, and their derision towards him, he didn't wish for the extra burden it would place on his shoulders. But he didn't know that. Albus had a feeling that Harry thought that he thought he wasn't capable of responsibility. Though it was small, and insignificant to Harry at this point—he felt he could at least right one wrong.
He had been either violent shouting or questions, but after several more minutes of silence he then said hesitantly, as if afraid as he waited for Harry's reaction, "I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry. You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess… that I rather thought… you had enough responsibility to be going on with."
His voice was shaky, and even though he was keeping his emotions inside, as Harry looked up at him, he couldn't stop the single tear from breaking through the walls around his heart and falling down his face into his beard.
"Harry?" he questioned, softly. But Harry looked away so he couldn't see what was happening inside his mind. It seemed as if he did learn one thing from Severus… eye contact was key…
Finally, Harry took a shuddering gasp and asked, his voice empty, "Is that all?"
He didn't have to look inside his mind to known that Harry was close to his breaking point and couldn't take anymore news.
Albus nodded.
Taking a deep breath, Harry then asked, "Can I go now?"
Albus nodded again, and wandlessly unlocked the door for him. When he heard the bolt unclick, Harry very slowly got up and headed to it. He walked in a way that an old man would walk as if under a heavy load. Harry opened the door—turned and gave him one last look. He didn't say anything, but he could see the pain and betrayal in those, now blank eyes. He then shut the door behind him and Albus listened to his footsteps until they died away. Suddenly he was left alone in the now silent office, listening to nothing but the sounds of his own breathing.
He just sat there and stared at the door for what felt like hours. For a moment… he wanted to rage and start destroying everything he could reach as well. Just to let out these terrible feelings that were tearing him apart inside.
But eventually, there was a hesitate voice from the walls.
"Shall… do you… want me to follow him, Dumbledore?" Dexter's hesitate voice asked, as if afraid that he would be destroyed for speaking.
Albus shook his head and folded his hands together so that he could rest his forehead against them. "No… let him be."
Most of his face was covered and he was glad for that… that was when the tears started to fall. He let out all the grief and sadness and for the first time in years he allowed himself to cry. He cried for the secrets that he had kept locked away inside him for so long. He cried for Harry's expression when he saw that Sirius was dead and for Remus's face when he stared at that veil. He cried for Sirius…
He let the tears fall until his sleeves were then soaked and he no longer had a tear to shed. He had known all along that Harry was connected to Voldemort, and that he has been prophesied to be the one to stop him. But he never told anyone—especially Harry all this because he didn't want to place the burden on his shoulders. Only now did he see what his mistakes have cost them. The truth was that he had grown so attached to the idea that Harry was a child to be protected that he deprived Harry the answers that would have prevented this.
He didn't tell Harry that Voldemort might try to lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries because he wanted the prophecy.
He didn't tell Harry why studying Occlumency and shutting Voldemort out of his mind was so important.
And he never told him that he still had faith in him after everything that had happened…
And even now… he never had a chance to say the two words that he wanted to say. He couldn't bring himself to ask for he knew he didn't deserve it… but he couldn't stop himself from whispering them to Harry even though he was no longer here.
"Forgive me…"
It was true to what they said… it was the ones closest to our hearts that cause us the most pain. And right now his heart was breaking into countless little pieces…
It's ironic how even with your heart breaking apart, you can still love someone with all the little pieces.
