Chapter 1: The Beginning

In the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, Harry Potter woke up slowly, drowsily at first, and then with a start. Voldemort! The back of Quirrel's head! The Philospher's Stone! And then… and then… Harry shuddered, and only then registered that Albus Dumbledore stood before his bed, looking at him calmly, waiting with a gentle smile.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed. "The Stone! It was Voldemort, possessing Quirrel!"

"Indeed it was, dear boy. But do not worry, he does not have the Stone."

"I know he doesn't!" Harry burst out. "You and Nicolas Flamel destroyed it, but we have bigger problems right now!"

Dumbledore blinked in apparent surprise. "How did you know that the Stone was destroyed?"

"Please, Professor, I know it doesn't make much sense, but when I was passed out, my spirit was pulled somewhere, and I met… her." Harry shivered.

Now Dumbledore appeared visibly alarmed. "Who is 'her'?"

"The Morrigan. The Irish Goddess of war, death and fate." Harry looked down at his hands, which were trembling just from the memory. "She said she could only reach me because I fulfilled the right conditions to be close to her… demesne I think was the word? She said I was 'marked', and that I had just won a battle to the death against a being that cheated death while being close to death myself."

The sharp intake of breath from Dumbledore startled Harry into looking back up into his Headmaster's face. Dumbledore took a moment to breathe, then two, visibly calming himself. Then he drew his wand, and made a few complicated motions in the air. Harry felt the air suddenly still, tense with what could only be magic. He then pulled up a chair and sat down at Harry's bedside. "Harry, this is very important. Gods do not tend to interfere in our lives, and when they do, it is almost never to mortal benefit. Did she offer a bargain, or a pact?"

"No sir. She had a message, and said it was from all the gods."

"All the Irish gods?"

"No, sir. I thought the same, and she clarified. All the gods. Every culture, every continent. Even the gods of Antarctica, who really don't care about humans in general. I'm not sure why she pointed that out, to be honest. Maybe to really emphasize how big a deal it was?" Harry shook his head. "Doesn't matter. The message. Voldemort's using a magic forbidden by the gods, splitting his soul. Apparently mortals call the result a Horcrux?"

Dumbledore stilled. "You are certain that is what she called it?"

"Yes, sir. And, well, the gods are angry about it. Every other Horcrux-creator apparently had their Horcrux destroyed soon after the owner's death, but it's been nearly fifty years since Voldemort made his first one. The Morrigan said that no Horcrux in history has been active for so long, and it's having… side effects on the world and on the gods? She tried to explain a little, but I didn't really get it. Sorry, sir."

"It's quite alright, I'm not sure I would understand either. Just to be clear, she did say 'first Horcrux', implying more than one?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Yes, sir."

"And the gods are somehow impacted by Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

"That's how I understood it, sir."

"I see." Dumbledore closed his eyes and nodded once, sharply. "Alright, Harry. Was there anything else?"

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. This next bit was the really frightening part. "We have a deadline. The gods have given us seven years, seven months, and seven days. Three sevens, the Morrigan said. All of Voldemort's Horcruxes must be destroyed, and Voldemort must be killed, before that day. Otherwise…" Harry winced, remembering the feeling of doom that the Morrigan had imposed upon him. "Otherwise, the gods will end humanity. To protect themselves, it sounded like."

Dumbledore was quiet for a full minute, and Harry waited silently, knowing that Dumbledore probably needed time to process this. "Well, all things considered, it could be worse," Dumbledore finally proclaimed cheerfully, much to Harry's surprise.

"I… I don't understand, sir," Harry confessed.

"Little has changed," Dumbledore explained. "Voldemort is a problem, but I knew that already, and now so do you. He is currently immortal, which I had believed, and you have now confirmed. We now know his method of immortality, which I had been unsure of, so in that respect we know more than when we started, and so we can narrow down our search. True, we now have a deadline, which eliminates the possibility of delaying Voldemort's return indefinitely while we search safely for his Horcruxes, but all things considered, the sooner Voldemort is vanquished, the fewer people he can hurt in his search to return to a body."

"But sir, seven years…!"

"Seven years, seven months, and seven days, correct? Well, seven years, seven months and four days now, if we assume that the clock began on the day of your confrontation."

Harry's jaw dropped for a moment. "Wait, I've been out for three days?!"

"Indeed you have, Harry. Wait," Dumbledore hurriedly cautioned as Harry began making movements to throw the covers off the hospital bed and stand, "Madame Pomphrey will have my head if I allow you to rise before she had a chance to look at you, so I must ask that you wait for her. Besides, what would you do if I allowed you up right now? Do you know where a Horcrux is? Do you know what items Voldemort chose to host his Horcruxes? Do you have the knowledge or ability to destroy them?"

Harry stopped his urgent movements – Dumbledore raised very good points. Reluctantly, he settled back into the bed. "No sir. I'm just…"

"Understandably frightened," Dumbledore interrupted. "Meeting one of the gods is not for the faint of heart, let alone one acting as a messenger for all of them. You've done what you needed to, bringing their message to my attention. Harry, you are a child, and while I understand your anxiety, it is not your responsibility to rectify the situation."

"But sir, I… I can't just forget this. The fate of the world is at stake, I want to help however I can. I just… don't know how," Harry whispered, looking down again.

"My dear boy, what do you think a school is for? To help people learn what they need to survive and thrive," Dumbledore reminded Harry with a smile. "Your desire to help is noble, and in fact quite welcome. I doubt many would believe me if I were to share the gods' message with them, so I daresay that I will in fact need your assistance before the crisis is over. However, there are a great many things I can do before it comes to that, so you should spend your time growing and learning. I already have some thoughts on how to proceed, so you shouldn't worry overmuch about it. With luck, I will be able to resolve the whole matter before you graduate Hogwarts. So have some faith in your old Headmaster."

Hearing that final reassurance, Harry felt his body relax for the first time since he'd woken, and all of a sudden, he felt quite drained. "Thank you, Professor."

"You should be aware, my boy, that what happened between you and Professor Quirrel in the dungeons is a complete secret. So naturally, the whole school already knows everything, save for the most important part: Voldemort's spirit inhabiting Quirrel's body. Such is the nature of secrets, I suppose."

"Should I tell people about Voldemort, sir?"

Dumbledore made a thoughtful hum at the question. "Truthfully, Harry? In situations regarding difficult-to-believe secrets, such as this one, I generally believe the most correct course of action is alerting a small handful people that we can trust – especially those who might be able to help – but otherwise keeping our own counsel."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, biting his lip. "So, I should probably tell Hermione and Ron, since they were there, but I probably shouldn't mention it to other people."

"I would also advise against sharing your experience meeting the Morrigan to anyone, including Miss Granger and Mister Weasley. Meeting a god is unheard of outside of extremely rare and esoteric magics, ones that I would very much prefer are not reintroduced within Hogwarts walls. Miss Granger would almost certainly research your experience, bringing attention to it, which is something we should avoid for the moment."

Harry didn't like it, but he could see the sense in it. Dumbledore certainly had Hermione pegged, and it wouldn't be fair to tell Ron and not Hermione. "Sir, are you going to tell anyone? About Voldemort being alive, sort of, and about the Morrigan?"

"Concerning VoIdemort's spectral state, I likely will have to," Dumbledore admitted. "While I am, if I may be immodest a moment, quite a capable wizard, I am but one man, and I do not know everything. I may consult with the Department of Mysteries – a branch of the Ministry of Magic that focuses on research and unusual magics. I may also consult with a Diviner – a wizard or witch who specializes in Divination, or information gathering magic – if I can find one and ascertain their trustworthiness."

"Are they rare?" Harry asked.

"Yes and no. While basic Divination magic, such as locating a possession you've misplaced in your home, are accessible to most wizards, the more advanced magics require quite a bit of dedication to master. Combined with how Diviners are not well-regarded in modern society, due to their ability to find other people's secrets, few put in the effort to acquire the skill, and even fewer advertise it. Many actually believe me to be a Diviner, but between you and me, I lack the knack."

Harry's eyes widened. "Is Divination taught at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, starting in your third year." Dumbledore looked down at Harry through his spectacles searchingly. "However, if you are truly curious, there are some books on Divination in the Hogwarts library in the non-restricted sections. Far be it from me to deter a student from studying ahead."

Harry smiled.

"Now, speaking of learning, do you have any questions you wish to ask me?"

"Loads! I mean, you obviously used the Stone to lure in Voldemort, but how did you know he was still alive?"

Dumbledore smiled. "The largest indicator I had was certain magics that Voldemort cast before his fateful encounter with your family. If he were truly dead, they would have faded entirely. Instead, they only faded partly, so I had reason to believe that he persisted, somehow. I then followed rumors of suspicious activity to Albania, and after his encounter with poor Professor Quirrell, I had confirmation."

"But why Hogwarts? Why not somewhere else where Voldemort wasn't close to children?"

Dumbledore smile turned to a grimace. "Hogwarts wasn't the first attempt," he admitted. "After Professor Quirrell encountered Voldemort in Albania this past summer, Nicolas and I worked quickly. Wherever we set up as a trap, we concluded, needed to be somewhere that Professor Quirrell and Voldemort would feel comfortable being in the area. We tried housing the Stone in Gringotts first, in a special vault."

"You mean, the vault that Hagrid emptied when I went to Diagon Alley?" Harry clarified.

"Indeed. The package surrounding the Stone was turned into a Portkey – an item that would magically transport you to a preset location. If anyone but Hagrid, Nicolas or I had touched it, he would have been transported to a special cell that had been enchanted in a way to prevent Voldemort from escaping long enough for Nicolas and I to seal him away. When Voldemort didn't make a move on the Stone for more than a month, we assumed the plot had failed because Gringotts was too secure. Nicolas and I discussed our options. Since Voldemort didn't have his strength back, he would need to lay low, so he would be with Professor Quirrell at Hogwarts regardless. I could not fire Professor Quirrell without cause, and I had thought that Voldemort was using a traditional possession, meaning that any given moment, I wouldn't know if he was inside Professor Quirrell's body or not."

"You couldn't prove Voldemort was in Quirrell, so you couldn't fire Quirrell, so Voldemort was going to be at Hogwarts no matter what you did," Harry summarized.

Dumbledore nodded. "Nicolas and I decided that if Voldemort was going to be there regardless, it would be best to distract him from the students by moving the Stone to Hogwarts. That way, Voldemort would be more focused on the prize of immortality, than on the students. And with luck, Voldemort would have fallen into our trap."

Harry frowned, not liking the explanation but understanding it. "Why not use a fake Stone?"

"Divination magics. I've never been able to confirm it, but I suspect that Voldemort has enough of a grasp on them to be able to discern the truth. Before his fall, he claimed consistently that he could always tell if he was being lied to, and he was unusually good at finding the weaknesses of people. I could mimic the appearance and texture of the Stone easily enough with some Transfiguration, but the issue is that nearly everything about it is well-known – its height, its weight, its color, et cetera. Divination theory states that the more you know about an item, the more easily you are able to divine its location – that is to say, the easier it is to find with magic. There are wards and such to help prevent those spells from working, but the goal, as you observed, was to lure Voldemort into a trap. He would have noticed immediately if the spells were pointing him away from Hogwarts. No, the Flamels and I agreed that it would have to be the true Stone if the plan was to succeed."

"What was the trap, anyway, after the Stone was put in Hogwarts?" Harry asked, curious.

"Ultimately, I wanted Voldemort's shade sealed away," Dumbledore admitted. "The real trap was the Mirror of Erised. Do you remember how you retrieved the Stone from the Mirror?"

"Yeah, I wanted to keep it from Voldemort, so the mirror gave it to me."

"Only someone who wanted to find it, and not use it, would have been able to take the Stone from the Mirror. One of my more ingenious ideas, really. So naturally, Voldemort would not have been able to retrieve it. Professor Quirrell might have been able to, if he had had completely selfless reasons, and had I not specifically warded against him as well." At Harry's startled look, Dumbledore chuckled. "Dear boy, I knew about Voldemort possessing Professor Quirrell from the beginning. In any case, do you recall how entranced you were when you found the Mirror over Christmas break? That is part of the magic of the Mirror of Erised. The more you desire what you see within it, the longer you are exposed to the Mirror's magic, the stronger its hold on you is… until the rest of the world simply isn't important any longer."

Harry was suddenly reminded of what Dumbledore had said back then. "You said that men have wasted away before the Mirror. But Voldemort was a spirit. He can't die again, so he'd be trapped!"

"Precisely."

"But if the only real trap was the Mirror, then why all the other parts? Fluffy, the Devil's Snare, the winged keys, the chess challenge, the potions riddle?"

"An illusion and appeal to Voldemort's pride," Dumbledore revealed. "We needed to put up a pretense of effort. It could not be so well guarded that he could not get past, else the Mirror trap became pointless, but nor could it be so lax that he would suspect the truth. A difficult balance to find, I admit. That Devil's Snare was not a traditional one – it was specifically bred to feed on dark magic; if Voldemort had used a dark fire curse, as he was wont to use during his rise some years ago, the Devil's Snare would grow and expand extremely quickly. The keys challenge was designed for teamwork, something that Voldemort loathed using personally as he felt it was indicative of personal weakness. The chess challenge was built for patience, and to delay the intruder, to exacerbate their impatience because of the looming threat of being caught."

Harry nodded, impressed. "What about the potions riddle?"

"A method to prevent more than one person from entering the final room. The potion with the way forward had barely enough for one person, yes? The goal was to isolate Voldemort and Professor Quirrell from any hostages or followers."

"Then why was there still enough for me after he was there first?"

"Professor Snape used some complex magics to refill the bottle, but only after several minutes of the room being empty."

"So, you needed Voldemort to believe that you and the Professors had done their best to keep him from the Stone, to strip away any help he might have had, while also delaying him long enough for you to return? And because he thought the trap was to keep him there long enough for you, he wouldn't be thinking about how the Mirror itself was the trap?"

"Quite so. Very accurately summarized."

Harry's felt a rock form in his gut, and looked down guiltily. "Then… then I messed it up. Professor McGonagall warned us that the Stone was adequately protected. It's my fault that Voldemort's still loose."

"Quite the opposite in fact," Dumbledore corrected. "I had not anticipated that Voldemort was hidden on the back of Professor Quirrell's head, instead of using traditional possession. By not looking into the Mirror himself, Voldemort was protecting himself from the Mirror's magic. Regardless of Professor Quirrell's failure or success, Voldemort would not have fallen into my trap. Your interruption prompted Voldemort to reveal himself, and gave my trap a higher chance of success. That it did not work is not your fault."

The rock in his gut vanished at the Headmaster's words. "Thank you, Professor."

"You are quite welcome, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily as he stood up. "Now then, I do believe it is time for me to go. Madame Pomphrey is waiting quite impatiently for me to leave so she can check on you."

A flash of thought crossed Harry's brain. "Sir, one more question before you go?"

"Of course."

"Why… why wasn't Voldemort able to touch me? Is that why he went after me when I was a baby? He said that my mother didn't have to die, that he was after me specifically."

Dumbledore's smile faltered somewhat. "Voldemort was unable to touch you, because your mother enacted an extremely powerful protection spell on you, powered by sacrificing her own life. I believe that that spell is the reason why you survived that night as well. But no, Voldemort was after you for a different reason. You said the Morrigan called you 'marked.' He pursued anyone who could be marked in the way the Morrigan meant, and you were a possibility."

"But what does it mean, to be marked?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know one day, I promise you that. But for now, put it from your mind. When you are older, when you are ready, you will know."

His tone made it clear that his mind would not be changed, and Harry nodded reluctantly.

Seeing this, Dumbledore shook himself a little, straightening out his robes before gesturing at Harry's bedside table. "On a different note, I might suggest you start on your sweets."

Harry blinked. "Sweets?" He glanced at the bedside table for the first time since he'd awoken, and then stared in utter surprise. It must have been covered in the half the contents of a candy shop. "What? How? Who?" he sputtered.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers. As I understand it, Misters Fred and George Weasley attempted to deliver a toilet seat – a private joke I assume? In any case, Madame Pomphrey believed it would not be very hygienic, and thus confiscated it. But I see you have enough sweets to keep you occupied for quite some time."

Harry considered that quite the understatement – it was more candy than he'd ever seen Dudley have at one time, save for Halloween of course. If he didn't want to give himself one heck of a stomachache, he'd have to space it out over a few days at least.

Dumbledore chuckled, and Harry blushed, realizing he'd said the last part aloud. "Then perhaps I might help with that. Let's see… ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I've rather lost my liking for them." He plucked out a single white bean and inspected it suspiciously. "Hmm. Salt, perhaps?" He popped it in his mouth, and visibly relaxed. "Ah, snow. How nostalgic."

Harry grinned at him, and Dumbledore smiled back as he departed. True to his prediction, Madame Pomphrey rushed in moments later. Harry barely paid any attention as he laid back in the bed, thinking to himself. He thought about the Morrigan, and the seven years the world had left to finish Voldemort and his Horcruxes, wherever they were. He thought about what it might mean to be 'marked'. And he thought about Divination, magics for gathering information.

There was so much he didn't know. He didn't know why Snape and the Dursleys seemed to hate him so much. He didn't know very much about his parents at all. And it sounded like Dumbledore might have trouble finding a Diviner he could trust. Maybe, just maybe, Divination could give him some answers, and help Dumbledore at the same time?