Chapter 33
A week later, Harry sat in Dumbledore's office. He was fully recovered, except maybe for some kind of brain damage that Loki suggested might be affecting him and probably wasn't helped by the fact that he ha0d just slammed his forehead into the desk in front of him.
"Are you alright, Harry?" asked a concerned Dumbledore.
"No," Harry grumbled. "I had my plan to kill Voldemort all put together and now I find out that he's immortal—it's not fair."
Loki snorted. 'Life is unfair.' He paused. 'Perhaps we should've expected it—you know, from the way he resurrected himself after supposedly being hit by a deflected Killing Curse.'
'Oh, please. Any wizard skilful enough can survive the Killing Curse—look at me,' Harry said, sighing. 'But the way he took a spear through the chest and continued fighting should've probably told us something.'
'I can't imagine him using our blood in a ritual for a new body has exactly left him downgraded, either.'
Harry groaned. "Continue, Dumbledore."
Despite the topic, Dumbledore smiled, peering forward at Harry over his spectacles. "Only if you promise to stop injuring yourself." And with that, he became sober. "As I was saying, I believe that Voldemort has achieved a form of partial immortality through a very dark and ancient ritual: the creation of Horcruxes."
'Haven't heard of them,' said Loki.
Dumbledore leaned forward, his fingers forming a steeple atop the table. "Not much is known about Horcruxes. Throughout history, those foolish yet intelligent enough to successfully create them are few and far between. That number slims further when you take into account that many of these wizards have not publicised their newfound immortality."
"Are you actually going to tell me what a Horcrux is?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Essentially, Voldemort has torn pieces of his soul off and placed them in objects. If we seek to destroy him, those objects must be destroyed first. I believe he has made seven." Dumbledore reached into his desk and extracted a slim leather-bound book with a hole through the middle. "This was one of them. I destroyed it just over two years ago with the fang of a basilisk that had been plaguing Hogwarts."
The diary seemed normal, but for the hole through the centre; neither Loki nor Harry sensed any magical aura lingering about it.
"If not for it, then I might have remained ignorant of the Horcruxes. I was able to sense its magic and research it, and then destroy it accordingly. Rather conveniently, the only things capable of destroying a Horcrux are fiendfyre and basilisk venom."
Harry heaved out a sigh. "So, how do we find these Horcruxes?"
"I have been working on it. Alas, it has proven rather difficult."
'Do not tell him,' said Loki, 'but I feel as though you may have been one.'
'What?!'
'The night I entered you, as you know, it was because I detected another spirit in your mind—one weaker than me who I was able to quite easily evict. One way or another, you are no longer a Horcrux.'
'Lucky me,' Harry said. 'I lose the cool dark wizard soul part and get to swap it for some weird, wannabe god.'
'From all of this Horcrux business and the fact that he looks like a snake, I believe that Lord Voldemort also fits into the category of "weird, wannabe god." ' He paused. 'And if I am weird, then what are you?'
Harry tuned Loki out and resumed looking at Dumbledore. "Anyway, why are you even telling me this? Don't you want to keep up your whole shadowy manipulator thing?"
One of Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows floated upwards and his eyes twinkled. "I must say, it is rather refreshing for one to be so open with me, rather than speaking of such things behind my back."
"Don't worry—I say lots behind your back as well. So does the voice in my head. Now stop avoiding my question, you shadowy manipulator."
As though a switch had been flipped, Dumbledore's expression became grave. "I did not want you to endanger yourself in a quest for the truth." He hesitated. "There is another thing I wanted to tell you…"
Harry motioned for him to continue.
"There is a prophecy concerning you and Lord Voldemort."
Harry groaned. "Really?"
Dumbledore nodded and reached into his desk, producing a crystal ball swirling with mist and handing it to Harry. As he touched it, a voice filled the room, echoing as though it was simultaneously coming from everywhere and nowhere.
"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..."
Gently, Harry placed the ball back upon the table, leaning back in his seat. "Well…" he said, "that sucks."
'I know,' said Loki. For a moment, he was silent. 'It didn't even rhyme.'
'Yes,' Harry deadpanned. 'That was exactly what I was thinking.'
He glanced up at Dumbledore. "I'm assuming this is why I survived the Killing Curse?"
"Yes, I believe that is one reason among others."
"So, what are we going to do about this?"
Dumbledore smiled. "So eager to work with me, Harry? From our past tensions I would have thought you might think differently."
Harry waved him off. "I only didn't like you because you were a headmaster, or something like that. I have a short memory and hit my head quite often; I'm not very good at holding grudges—I mainly leave them to my imaginary friend."
"Of course, of course. Alas, I did not plan on telling you of the prophecy until much later on, but with Voldemort's resurrection and your battle with him, I thought it prudent to tell you now. And although you will be the one to strike the final blow upon Voldemort, I feel as though you should not enter the fray just yet."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I killed most of his important Death Eaters. Wouldn't the best time to strike be whilst he rallies his surviving troops?"
Dumbledore hesitated.
"Ah." Harry nodded in understanding. "You don't want me getting myself killed or captured."
Dumbledore nodded. "Your death would, understandably, be quite an awful tragedy."
Harry shrugged. "What can I say? People love me." He paused. "They're probably gonna love me even more when I save them from the big, bad Dark Lord Voldemort."
"I'm glad to see you're confident, but you mustn't underestimate Voldemort. From your account of the battle, you caught him off-guard and weakened." Dumbledore grimaced. "Voldemort will not allow that to happen again, and I fear that the next time you meet will prove fatal for you if you are alone."
Harry nodded; he knew it to be true. "Perhaps he will be weakened by the fact he doesn't have his wand."
"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, "though I do not find it likely Voldemort will let such matters prevent him from doing whatever he desires—not for long, anyway."
Harry decided it would be best not to mention the blood of Asgardians and Jotuns that Voldemort had used in his ritual. That would achieve nothing. He could only hope that it was hindering Voldemort rather than helping him—especially since Voldemort had his wand, which might work in accordance with the Jotun blood.
"So," Harry said, "you want me to go and hide?"
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said bluntly. "In the past you have proven rather good at it, and with Hogwarts' recent infiltration by Voldemort's agent, Barty Crouch, it is not the best place for you to be. There is, however, another safe place."
Harry raised an eyebrow and waited for Dumbledore to clarify.
"During the last war with Voldemort, I lead an organisation against Voldemort's Death Eaters." He smiled sadly. "Your parents were part of the group before they were forced into hiding by the aforementioned prophecy."
"My, my," Harry murmured. "Who would've thought that Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts would ever break the law—do something so vile as to lead a vigilante group? Where do I go to report you?"
Dumbledore smiled again. "As the head of the Wizengamot, I ensure you that you can send your formal complaint to me and it will be investigated fully."
Harry nodded. "I'll send it to you straight away," he said. "What's your group called? You know, so I can put it in the report."
"The Order of the Phoenix."
The phoenix perched on a stand across the room trilled. Harry glanced at it. "Inspired by him, I presume. Or some tripe about rising from the ashes."
"Of course."
"And you want me to join your vigilante group?"
"Not particularly, but I would like you to meet some of its members."
Harry frowned. "Am I being used as a tool to raise morale?"
"In part," Dumbledore admitted, "but some of the members have been wishing to meet you."
"Of course they have." Harry grinned. "Everyone wants to meet me. I'm Harry Potter, killer of Voldemort, killer of dragons, killer of…too many other things for me to actually remember—that said, I don't have a very good memory except when it suits me."
'Accept his offer,' said Loki. 'We may have Marco's soldiers, but we could always use more—people who actually have experience fighting Voldemort.'
Harry nodded. "Very well."
Dumbledore smiled. "Well, a meeting is happening soon. While you need not attend, it would be a good opportunity to meet the Order of the Phoenix." He reached into a pouch on his desk and extracted a handful of shiny powder. Floo powder, Harry recognised it as, rather than fairy dust mixed with cocaine—Dumbledore probably did have some of that, too, though.
Then Dumbledore handed him a slip of paper, reading 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry glanced at him questioningly.
"There is a charm around our headquarters, stopping anyone who has not read this from entering it or even knowing that it exists."
'Advanced magic,' said Loki. 'I've never even heard of anything like it before.'
'Did you expect anything else from Dumbledore?'
Harry walked over to the fireplace and lit it with a wave of his wand. Nonchalantly, he threw the powder into the flickering flames, turning them from orange to shades of green. He stepped in and yelled, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"
The world rushed by him and he was suddenly in a dark void; hundreds of fires glowed amidst the blackness and an invisible wind rushed through Harry's hair. And then he was moving towards one of the fires and being flung out through it.
Though disorientated, he hit the ground in a roll, flicking his wand as he did so and sending a poorly placed table flying so he didn't crash into it. It smashed against the wall, exploding into splinters.
Harry moved to a dark corner and pressed himself into the wall as footsteps and yelling sounded through the house. He glanced around as he waited to see if anyone was coming to attack him. The house was covered in dust and looked rather old-fashioned.
Just as one of the doors leading into the room opened, Dumbledore stepped gracefully through the fireplace.
"It's you, Dumbledore," said a voice, its owner concealed from Harry by the door. "Sorry, we thought we heard something breaking…" He trailed off, probably noticing the smashed table. "What happened?"
Dumbledore glanced to Harry. "He did."
Harry stepped forward and waved. "Hi."
The man was rather thin and gaunt and pale. Wavy black hair hung down to his shoulders. His grey eyes were wide and his jaw hung open. "Harry?" He sounded as though he couldn't quite believe it.
Harry nodded. "And you are?"
The man rushed forward to hug Harry. He was so distracted that he didn't notice the wand poking between his ribs; if Harry hadn't lost his old wand, the man might've already been dead, an icicle through his heart.
"I'm Sirius Black!" the man exclaimed excitedly. "I'm your godfather!"
Harry had seen him mentioned, how he had supposedly killed a dozen muggles with one spell and betrayed the Potters. No matter how admirable the former might've been, the man was still a rather awful godfather—he had allowed Harry to be placed with muggles, for God's sake.
Harry refrained from mentioning that and awkwardly patted Sirius on the back, unsure what to say.
Finally, Sirius released him from the hug that might've been bone-crushing if Harry was human. "Come on," he said, still excited, "let's go and meet the others!"
Harry held back a groan.
