Disclaimer: I do not own anything, except my own storyline and OC's, Just FYI.
Chapter 36: listen before i go
It was as Harry was doodling in the back of The Deceit of War that he noticed something was wrong. He had turned back to study one of his earlier drawings and it was gone. When he looked back, he watched fascinated as the ink seemed to almost sink into the parchment. Carefully, he wrote a quick greeting.
Hello. Waiting for a response he stared at the parchment, idly chewing on the tip of his quill.
Hello. Tossing his head back in surprise, he continued writing.
Who are you? He sat back and waited for a response.
My name is a secret, but you can call me Tenebris Oraculi. Staring oddly at the parchment, he decided to ignore it.
Alright, Tenebris, How are you communicating to me?
I have an identical book, I left a copy at Hogwarts and it seems you found it.
So you are the creator of The Deceit of War?
Yes.
Then tell me, what is the prophecy towards the end of the book? Does it have a meaning? Harry had found the one his 'friends' had spoken of, and memorized it to the best degree possible.
It is one I spouted myself, then retrieved from the Hall of Prophecies. I believe it tells of an individual with the potential to change the future of the Wizarding World. That one who's crucible is forged of death, hatred and suffering and born of Darkness shall become the Saviour, or the Damner of our society.
My friends believe I am the subject of it. Supposedly, people thought it was fulfilled by a great evil wizard or a minor one that doesn't matter. I assume you don't believe either?
No, I truly believe the subject of this prophecy will change everything. That they are the future. What about you?
I don't really know. Well, I do have to get studying, Have a good day.
One moment, might I have a name of the person I shall be training?
Training?
Yes, you found my journal, and I think you have potential to become incredibly powerful since you did. Harry raised an eyebrow, but decided to ignore it. As he thought, he recalled his new friend's name and smirked. Not once during the encounter did he consider it at all strange. It was magic, and so far, magic was the one thing he could trust.
My name is a secret, but you can call me Dominus Aeturnum.
Harry had decided to teach Fleur his new spell. He already determined it wouldn't help her much with the next tasks and especially since it wasn't quite refined, but he figured until the tournament ended and while Neville was still training, he could at least try and help her become an equal. He'd long since decided his best chance was to find someone who could match him, Voldemort was his rival, Dumbledore was too old, so he needed someone who could stand by him, who could pose a challenge. If he couldn't find one, he would forge one.
So that landed him here, waiting for the Beauxbatons champion to arrive, ignoring the desire to continue his studies while he waited. In his study, he'd discovered something truly curious, but he wanted to test it to be absolutely certain. If it was right, it would change the way they thought of magic forever. No one had likely even thought it possible to ever consider looking it up, which was probably why he would likely be the discoverer. Finally though, Fleur arrived, panting.
'Sorry 'Arry, I was simply escaping some boys. Now, what was it you wished to speak to me about?'
'I wanted to show you a spell and see if you could do it. I was also curious as to the effects it would have for you.' She raised an eyebrow.
'Very well. Show me then.' Her brashness, as he predicted would be present, was both refreshing and annoying. He was her superior, at least until he made her his equal, and he needed to show his power.
'Patronicium Ignis!' The emerald flaming Basilisk escaped his wand to her shriek of horror as it wrapped around him, though after the initial horror she looked in awe as he stood there fiercely, the spell rising up behind him in a display of strength, It was frightening, yet very interesting. Carefully raising her wand, she looked away after one more glance and spoke the words.
'Patronicium Ignis!' Nothing appeared, and frustrated, she kept trying. After her tenth attempt, Harry came over to correct her movement. It was odd, with a slight tingle yet comfortable. Something about him just seemed to exude comfort, she noticed it since she first met him. Before he was cold and powerful, radiating off him in waves, but here he was kind and warm. An interesting duality.
'Patronicium Ignis…' She whispered softly, and a beautiful ocean blue eagle appeared, far deeper than her similar Patronus as it carefully whipped around, battling with Harry's as it swirled, moving as if in a flowing river, smooth and delicate.
It appeared beautiful, every feather carefully carved of light before it dissipated into nothing by the end. The two 'Fire Patronus' encircled each other, bathing the room in a sea green as she watched in awe, before turning to Harry and noticing his eyes were closed, sweating heavily. His magic appeared to be being drained quickly, clearly tired, and she noticed a peculiar feel of the room, as if it were covered in magic. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that it had been repaired quite heavily.
When the clock struck six, she realised she had to get to the carriage, so reluctantly setting Harry down on a chair, she sped off, thinking it all over. He was the first she could recall having that level of power, and it truly made her think of him as her prospective future partner. He was strong and fierce, yet cunning and subtle. Far more mature than most, though his lack of social abilities tended to leave something to be desired, but perhaps she could help.
The most pressing issues though, were his age and her status. Three years would not matter in four, but at the moment it was quite significant. Even if he was wiser beyond his years their relationship would be judged by the public, though that was easily overcome. Especially as she knew he was already quite the catch and would have been surprised no one got him to it weren't for the contract. Thankfully, her magic prevented her from getting into a relationship with people only attracted to her physically.
The more significant one was her magic. As a Veela, it would essentially have the final decision on her relationship. If it liked them, it would breed a sense of loyalty between the two, multiplying what was already there. She only knew this because of her parents' knowledge, as despite being seventeen she hasn't even managed a damn first kiss, and it was quite frustrating. It should also be noted that if her magic didn't… we'll, she didn't want to think about that.
Maybe they could try over the tournament to find out, and as this was her last year, if it worked out, she could continue it. She had wanted to explore opportunities at London Gringotts anyways.
When he awoke, Harry immediately felt rejuvenated. As if he could lift a mountain, and he wasn't sure why. Unable to recall a single detail, he simply focused on himself, and decided to cast a patronus. His inner turmoil had ended with the dissolvement of the marriage contract and settling with his friends. Thankfully, Fleur had provided some insight and while he didn't see her around, he focused on his happy memories, His parents sacrifice, his hug with his Godfather, Neville's speech, and Fleur giving him a soft hug after their first practice session when he'd helped her completely master the Patronus Charm, though to be fair she was quite close.
Closing his eyes, He carefully focused on the feelings of elation, and launching his most powerful spell yet, he spoke the words carefully, allowing the joy to enter every fibre of his being. To finally, truly embrace happiness for the first time in his rather short life. From his wand appeared a mist, which as it coalesced shifted into many things, a Dragon, Basilisk, Stag, Thestral, before coming to a point, a final form.
In front of him, made of bright, solid white light, stood an Augury. They were a magical offshoot of the Argentavis, and it was absolutely beautiful. The form mirrored that of Fleur's, which was an actual Argentavis, but he preferred this one. His book suggested those with a patronus similar to his own would be a good match for his soul, though every aspect should be taken into account. Neville's bear was fiercely loyal and solitary, but strongly watched over their cubs. The personality mirrored that of Harry's bird, but their physical forms and ways about it were different. Bears were strong but rough and noble, whereas the Augury was cunning and stoic.
The Argentavis on the other hand was cruel and fiercely protected it's family to the last drop of blood, but they were giant and obvious. They relied on intimidation but if necessary would use power. His was subtle, Fleur and Neville's were brash. It was clear that where his matched Fleur's on a superficial level, on the more psychological side they were similar but distinct. It allowed him to think of Fleur differently, but he dismissed the idea of a romantic relationship.
It did, however, spark another train of thought. All three took their first mates for life, which had some interesting connotations he was both intrigued and embarrassed by, though he knew that if anything else were true the form would have taken another.
Neither of them had gotten one so far, he because of his social awkwardness and betrothal, her because none of the males were suitable, but he doubted she would be interested in her first boyfriend being 3 years her junior. Perhaps in the future, if they continued to be single, it was possible, but for now it was unlikely at best.
Pushing the thoughts away, he focused on his spell.
Dumbledore had just about given up. He'd toiled tirelessly, even getting assistance from Severus to cure his condition, but it seemed he was doomed for it to consume him. For now, the only thing holding it back was his magic, and it left him ever so slightly weaker, though he imagined by the end of his life, if he continued to keep it at bay, he would barely be able to cast a spell without exercising everything.
It all depended on Harry. All his efforts to cure himself and help the boy was in the effort to save him from Voldemort's clutches and live a proper life. Truthfully, he didn't know what he'd be without the Ravenclaw. He was like a grandson to the man who'd never had children of his own, for both personal and biological reasons.
So he stared at his arm, where the small patch of red spider-like veins tried to crawl but were held back by a barrier of blue magic under his skin. He tapped, and watched as it continued to shrink. His calmness wasn't only his natural attitude, but necessary to keep the evil magic at bay and prevent it from taking over.
Deciding that nothing else would get done tonight, he closed his book and as he aimed to put it in his desk he spotted the hidden drawer. It held the diary he'd been given by Harry, meaning to look into it but never having the time. Carefully pulling it out, he studied the small journal.
It was wrapped in leather quite thickly, though it lacked any noticeable wound he spotted a bit of ink leaking from the side. While he had been suspect of 'Tom,' he hadn't given it much thought. Perhaps that was a mistake.
Opening the book, he felt lingering magic upon it, enthralling yet evil. Putting the tip of his wand to the pages, he felt for the source. But when he did, Dumbledore threw it away, breathing heavily as sweat poured from his brow, his features marred in horror. Moving over, he prodded it once more, and a tear slipped from his eye before he apparated using the Headmaster's Command, into a small room he'd spirited away for training and personal use. THe only other soul who knew of it was Severus.
As he shuffled closer to the targets he'd set up long ago, the wooden boards were eviscerated as he unleashed every bit of magic he had, rage forming. It was so unfair! Why the boy!? Why Him!? Damn magic! He continued on, tiring himself as he poured every ounce of anger he had into the spells. When he was finished, absolute devastation was left in his wake.
Where once had been four solid walls with a door stood a crater of destruction ten miles wide, nothing remaining. Dumbledore fell to his knees, hands on the floor as he sobbed, the Old Man finally feeling his age. Only the most powerful wizards or those with unnatural means actually lived two hundred years or more, it was solely a projection on the theoretical potential average lifespan. He was gifted no doubt, but Dumbledore was not quite the level of Harry or Voldemort. Most wizards and witches lived to 115 years, for many reasons. Typically because magic extended their lifespan by preventing decay, but at the age of 110 there was a steep drop-off, nothing to the more powerful but to someone even like Dumbledore, it was quite the drain. Thankfully, the Elder Wand compensated.
That was discounting the many stressors in his life, which brought expectancy from 175 to 140. Honestly, he felt lied to. The Headmaster had been promised a long age by his old professors but they'd neglected to share the bits of info necessary to fully understand. It resulted in recklessness and foolishness in his younger years he now deeply regretted, sitting on the floor breathless.
Harry… poor Harry. He'd do everything in his power to avoid the fate that may very well be inevitable anyways, but was scared he may not live long enough for it. Staring down at his many rings, he carefully pulled off one. He'd retrieved it when he first learned of Voldemort's upsurge and began suspecting the man had torn himself apart. He had thought it was the only one, it appeared he was wrong. To do so once was unnatural, any more was a clear sign of insanity.
As he held the inlaid golden ring in his palm, with a dark stone atop it, he realised he'd never used it. But as he reflected on that fact, he decided that was good. It was better to remember the past and move on than to spend your life pursuing a way to fix it. Carefully pulling out another box, he opened it and tapped his wand on the golden snitch, the first Harry had ever caught, which had been carefully crafted for that very event.
Removing the ring and placing the stone inside, he closed it and vanished the box, only to appear when he died, in Harry's hand. Parting words of wisdom were more valuable than any currency in the world, and he suspected the Head of the Potter House would need encouragement when he faced Voldemort. As Dumbledore finished the action, resolve built within him as he stood, determination growing.
He would find a way, Harry would live a long happy life, with the Delacour girl if he had his Veela biology right and his legilimency skills were not failing him, and with it, the end of the Dark Lord would come. After that, it would be up to the boy, but he had full confidence he'd succeed, no matter the path he took, Dark or Light. For no matter his or Harry's failings, the Headmaster considered him family, and family was worth more than all the gold in the world, as Harry would attest.
Harry had been called to the Headmasters office, and he had no idea why. Dumbledore had been subdued lately, anyone could see it, and it was curious. He'd spent a bit of time with Fleur, and had even begun a bit of training for dance, which he had quickly discovered he was natural at, except when it came to the more… informal versions. Ballroom dancing and the rest of the more formal dances came naturally to him, likely helped by his agility, speed, dexterity and the like, such as the Tango or Waltz, but others he simply couldn't deal with.
Fleur had laughed at his seeming inability to grasp something that appeared so simple, and he absolutely refused to tell her about his dreadful Herbology grades. They simply seemed to be things he couldn't grasp. While he had been teased quite endlessly by the girl, he did find he enjoyed her laugh. Shaking off the thoughts, he moved back to the Headmaster. In front of the Gargoyle, he called out the weekly sweet, moving up the staircase and entering the office, into his normal chair.
'Hello Harry, I understand you were not informed of the reason behind this meeting?' Harry shook his head. 'I have learned something quite dreadful, and I feel it is your right to know it, especially as you have clearly demonstrated yourself not to be a child. So, if you will, dip your finger into this silver bowl.' What appeared to be a large silver half-goblet, half-bowl sat in between them, and he recognised it as a pensieve from the sketches inside some of the books about enchanting. Carefully watching the silvery strands swirl, he dipped his forefinger into the liquid and was taken somewhere.
In front of him lay a cottage, with a silver snake-shaped knocker. Dumbledroe appeared next to him soon, and they watched the memory unfold, of Merope Gaunt being treated ill by her family, her enamouration with Tom Riddle, and soon enough the squib brewing a love potion and raping the boy. The series of memories soon ended, with a man talking to her older brother Morfin, then hauling him away.
When they arrived, Harry sat there utterly dazed. It was terribly confusing, and he didn't quite understand the relevancy it would have. While he suspected the identity of Tom Riddle, he refused to presume and watched as the Old Man lied back in his chair, watching his reactions carefully. The Ravenclaw simply stared back bewildered.
'That, Harry, was the mother and father of Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior, better known as Lord Voldemort, or your friend Tom. I am aware of what he is, but I do think he can be saved, a better version of the monster who can be raised to learn Love, though we must first deal with the Original. However, I did not bring you here to talk about Tom.'
'Then why show me that memory?'
'I believe as a result of the method with which his parents conceived him, Voldemort could never know love, and while this may be different with Tom as he could have been influenced by you and Ginevra, I think it had far more repercussions than him simply becoming a Dark Lord.' Harry was beginning to shake his knee up and down, eyes narrowing.
'Alright?' Dumbledore smiled sadly.
'I believe Voldemort created an aberration of magic known simply as Horcruxes. After splitting his soul many times, I am under the understanding it may have fractured to become quite… weak. As a result, I believe on the night He was vanquished by you, a piece of his soul latched onto you. I am unsure of its validity, I could very well be wrong, I hope I am, but if it is true, you may need to die for Voldemort to be defeated. I have no intention for this to happen, but should it… Well, it is up to you.' Harry shrugged hopelessly.
'So I have to die for Voldemort to be gone-' Dumbledore interjected.
'Perhaps! I am working on a spell that may be able to detect it, an offshoot of Homenum Revelio, then we will know for certain. But this was merely the most significant topic I wanted to speak with you about. There is another.' Harry looked up.
'What is it?' Slowly, Dumbledore reached for his hand and carefully removed a ring. It was silver, with the middle carved inwards all around coloured blue, inlaid in silver with circular patterns and other various designs etched inside. The Headmaster set it on the desk, and carefully slid it over.
'Take this ring, my dear boy, it was given to me by my father and as I never had children, you are the closest I shall ever come to a grandchild. It has been passed down the Dumbledore line for many generations, crafted by one of my ancestors, given many enchantments by Rowena Ravenclaw herself, his wife.' The Headmaster smirked a bit.
'I am terribly afraid Gringotts tests are not always reliable, for I and my brother are the last descendants of her, a bastard child borne from her only daughter. History is many things, and hopeful is one of them. Helga's line was lost, no one truly knows where it went though I suspect there is but one branch left in the Americas.' He paused, taking a sip from a conjured goblet.
'You are the descendant of the Slytherin, Peverell, Gryffindor and Potter families, that much is true, but I am afraid you cannot claim to be the blood of all four. It is only the combination of two, your intentions and the Hogwarts hat that allows you to become the 'Heir of Hogwarts,' though that is something those who revere history made up. Their blood is far more powerful than a castle.' he look at Harry, and the boy nodded.
'When you take that ring, though, it shall recognize you as the inheritor of the Dumbledore and Ravenclaw lines, after I have passed. As is customary with these situations, you will have to travel to Gringotts and receive a drop of my blood, so it may mix with yours. Thus, any magical or legal attempts to argue it will fall flat, as you will carry my blood and will in essence, by my descendant. No physical or psychological repercussions are likely, though I do ask you to consider it carefully, no matter how much I do wish you accept.' It was all quite a bit. He was quickly learning that History had many viewpoints, Goblins clearly had their own, Dumbledore had his, and Magical Society had theirs. If he was honest, he was more inclined to believe the man sitting across from him.
So, he took the ring, and carefully slid it onto his left middle finger, as it fit perfectly. Along with the Black on his right index, Potter on his right ring finger, and Gryffindor-Slytherin on his left thumb, which he once thought as the 'Hogwarts ring,' he was steadily building up a collection. He traced the patterns absentmindedly as he considered all the repercussions of these actions. Dumbledore had all but declared him his Heir, and it made him feel good. The old man was the closest he had to a true family, with all the others dead, and that thought sparked a faint warmth in his chest he couldn't identify.
'Thank you sir, I am truly honoured.'
'Do not be. You have earned it, listening to the ramblings of a mad old man and helping him see the forest for the trees, not the collection. But I promise you, I will find a way to save you, no matter the outcome of the Horcrux-detection spell. Upon my death, two items I believe will allow you to complete the quest will be sent to your person, and then, you will defeat Voldemort and live a long, happy life. Your path may be drenched in fog, but one thing remains clear- I will always support you, just as your True Friends, and your future romance.' Dumbledore winked. 'Now, off with you, I do have paperwork.'
Harry left with a hopeful smile on his face.
It would all work out in the end.
R&R Plz! I've been intrigued by the dynamic I've built between Harry and Dumbledore, their similarities, differences, as well as the fact both have lost their family and are the closest each have right now. I decided to explore that a bit in this chapter after the heavy-handed foreshadowing.
Some reviews give me the feeling they don't read these author notes and what I clearly state, such as the fact 2-10 will be heavily rewritten to fill plot holes and better fit it in the new context as the direction I have fully and finally dictated. I do enjoy those that truly provide insight as to where they think it will be going, give advice, or just plain compliments.(Because who doesn't? :p)
