A/N: Welcome to a new project! This one-shot starts from Harry and Dumbledore on the island in the cave looking for the Horcrux and takes an alternate route through the astronomy tower fiasco and aftermath. Hurt/comfort themes and Harry-Dumbledore as very parent-child relationship themes with appearances from other characters (Snape, Minerva, Ron, etc.). I hope you enjoy! Like everyone else, I love reviews—even just a couple words are so appreciated!
"How do you feel, sir?"
Harry's face was pale with fear, and beneath the practiced calm he was determined to maintain for Harry's sake, he felt touched at Harry's concern.
"No different," he answered, to his own surprise. He dipped the cup into the liquid again and drank. Still, he felt nothing. He reached out for a third cup, but a gasp made him look up in alarm at Harry. He was clutching the edges of the basin, the sharp edges cutting his hands. Horror coursed through Dumbledore as he saw Harry was too deeply submerged in a well of pain to notice the blood seeping through his fingers.
Remain calm. He reached out a hand to Harry's face, but Harry flinched and, his legs already shaking and weak, he collapsed to the rough stone, curling into a ball to protect himself.
"Harry!" Dumbledore couldn't keep the panic from his voice. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He was already dying—he was supposed to take whatever pain he could before the end and spare Harry every moment of agony that was possible. He knew the burdens Harry would be forced to bear after he was gone, and then only thought allowing him to endure the prospect of leaving those burdens to Harry was being able to protect him on this final day while preparing him for what was to come. But this was all wrong.
Dumbledore picked his way around the stone basin to Harry's side. "Harry. Harry, can you hear me?"
But Harry was curled tightly in a ball, shaking, and gave no indication he had heard Dumbledore's words.
A small part of his brain considered how this could have happened—it was not like Voldemort to foresee a weakness like this, that the person who drank the potion would do so willingly, in order to spare the other. But the vast majority of his mind was frozen as Harry spoke—pleaded—to the ground, his fingers scrabbling at the coarse rock. "No…please…take me instead…leave them alone…kill me instead…"
Dumbledore seized Harry's shoulders and shifted him into a sitting position. "Harry. Whatever you are seeing, it's not real." He knew, of course, that the potion likely conjured a mixture of memory and illusion, and Harry had plenty of horrors in his past for the potion to draw from, which made it only more urgent that Harry return to reality.
But Harry gave no response, except to keep pleading to the ground, his eyes squeezed shut and tears pouring from clenched eyelids, every muscle tense and shaking. Albus could do nothing but hold Harry tightly and keep him from hurting himself on the sharp rocks. He hoped that
But the potion didn't seem to be wearing off, and Dumbledore had been in too many high-stake situations to lose his problem-solving skills even in his current state, and if the effects of the potion didn't fade after the lasting time of a dose, they wouldn't abate until the last of the potion had been drunk.
So, he steadied Harry as best he could against the rocks and drew another cup of potion. Hating himself, but knowing it might be the only way to spare Harry whatever torment the potion was inflicting, he forced the potion as gently as he could to Harry's mouth. Sputtering, Harry choked down the goblet, but instead of getting better, Harry merely cried out again and writhed out of Dumbledore's grasp.
The path forward cleared as Dumbledore understood with a surge of dread what Voldemort had intended. The boat had marked Harry as the victim, and Voldemort must have wanted to ensure that the weaker vessel (for he would not have conceived of a wizard equal to him traveling to retrieve the Horcrux) would suffer. Voldemort would never understand the power Harry wielded…a power that for all his magical prowess Dumbledore himself could not control…
Scheming and brooding reflection were constant background activity in Dumbledore's mind, but he continued to drink the potion, and Harry's cries only worsened.
There were perhaps two more cups left in the basin, when Harry fell silent and went rigid.
Dumbledore fell to his knees and grasped Harry's wrist. He thought for one awful second there was no pulse. He had one moment of relief in finding it, but even worse came a moment later.
Harry jerked as though controlled by invisible strings and screamed. "KILL ME!"
The sound was more awful than Dumbledore could have imagined. He'd watched, helpless, when Voldemort had possessed Harry last year at the Ministry, but this was somehow worse, because he had to perpetuate Harry's pain. The basin had to be emptied—Dumbledore had no illusions that an exit could be made from the cave if it were not.
And so Dumbledore secured Harry as best he could (binding spells kept disintegrating) and continued drinking the potion. He kept hold of Harry's wrists as much as possible, but Harry kept writhing and cutting himself against the sharp rock, scratching and clawing at himself as though desperate to inflict pain on himself.
Finally, blessedly, the basin was empty, and with a final cry, Harry stopped writhing.
"…water?" Croaked Harry after a moment's silence.
The last pieces clicked together. He did not bother to conjure water with his wand—Voldemort would have foreseen this part as well.
The bodies they had seen earlier would only mean one thing. An army of inferni dwelt beneath the surface of the lake.
He dipped the goblet into the water and cast a ring of fire around Harry and him at the same time.
The inferni began to emerge from the lake, their shadows halting at the edge of the ring of flames.
Keeping the fire high and bright, Dumbledore placed a hand behind Harry's head and poured the water into his mouth.
To his relief, Harry opened his eyes, his face a mess of tears and streaks of blood, but his eyes were clear and they met Dumbledore's with a recognition that made it easier to breathe.
Dumbledore looped his arm around Harry and lifted him to his feet.
"One more step, Harry, and this one is easy. Just stay with me."
They picked their way through the rocks and found the boat, thankfully, where they had landed.
Dumbledore helped Harry into the boat and with a flick of his wand conducted the flames into a corridor.
Despite his exhaustion, casting a spell so large in scale felt even easier than usual. He had less control over his magic, and it delighted in sending fire screaming around the cavern, lighting up the darkness and disbanding the army. This battle, at least, he could win.
"Hold on, Harry…just a bit further…"
"The wall…"
"It's all right, Harry. I cut myself on a rock—it'll be open in a moment…"
In the wild, furious way his magic felt at the moment, the concentrated effort to find the opening again was more difficult, but it was soon done, and with a brush of his wounded hand the passageway opened once again.
It closed behind them, blocking off the inferni and the flames, and Dumbledore kept one arm around Harry's shoulders and the other firmly gripping his upper arm as they shuffled slowly out of the stone corridor.
When they finally reached the exit from the cave, Dumbledore tightened his hold on Harry briefly. "I'm going to apparate us to Hogsmeade. It might be a little more uncomfortable than usual, but I've…I've got you. Don't worry, we'll be at Hogwarts soon."
Harry's voice was the slightest bit stronger when he answered, "I'm not worried, sir—I'm with you."
Dumbledore apparated them to the main road in Hogsmeade, the closest the apparition wards would allow to Hogwarts grounds. The moment they landed, he felt Harry collapse to the ground.
"What hurts?"
"Nothing…in particular…just weak…dizzy…" He took another labored breath. "Can we stop for a bit here?"
"Of course. Just take a moment…breathe…"
Harry's eyes were clenched shut and he knelt doubled-over on the ground, his hands planted on the dirt road, the tremors that Albus could feel in the rest of his body just visible in his trembling fingers.
Dumbledore cast a few discrete diagnostic charms, but could find nothing obviously amiss.
He held Harry closely, half-levitating him, half carrying him up the path towards the castle. He fought the thoughts that lurked at the edges of his mind. This is not how it is supposed to be…why is it always Harry?...and the most painful question…Why can I never protect him?
He was so preoccupied that he didn't see what Harry did, only that his student's shuffling gait jolted to a halt.
Before he could say a word, Harry answered his unasked question by simply pointing to the sky above Hogwarts.
The Dark Mark twisted with a sickening glow over the top of the Astronomy Tower.
"We have to get there."
"No," said Dumbledore sharply. "My priority is to get you to the hospital wing."
"But sir—"
"No."
Further discussion was moot as a figure burst from the nearest pub. Dumbledore quickly moved Harry behind him, drawing his wand, and relaxed only marginally when the figure spoke in a voice he recognized as Madam Rosmerta's, and she came close enough in the dim light for her face to be visible.
"Albus, the mark…"
"I know. Have you heard anything?"
"Nothing, it just appeared…I have brooms, if that would be helpful?"
"We should go," said Harry from behind him. Rosmerta started, apparently not having noticed him before. Dumbledore took comfort that Harry was able to stand with only one hand of support, and the Dark Mark could only mean that someone was dead or dying. He knew Harry would blame himself if they did not go, and he did not want to make Harry's state too visible even to Rosmerta.
Regardless, brooms would be easier means of travel to get back to the castle than by foot, and Harry would appear less of a target.
In as calm a voice as he could muster with the fear and dread threatening to overwhelm him, he responded, "Thank you, Madam Rosmerta. Two brooms would be most useful."
A flick of her wand, two brooms hovered by their sides.
Rosmerta wrung her hands nervously, glancing up at the Dark Mark every few moments, and anxiously bid them good luck.
Dumbledore helped Harry onto his broom and, sure he was secure, swung onto his own. He cast a light tethering spell to keep Harry next to him. Perhaps it was the comfort of being on a broom, or perhaps the sense of urgency, but Harry seemed more alert, his face pale but set.
They flew slowly towards the castle. Dumbledore allowed both their brooms to slow to a halt about a hundred meters from the castle.
Harry spoke before he could say anything. "I have my invisibility cloak. You don't want to leave me, but you also don't want to leave whoever's up there, and you're still Headmaster of Hogwarts. Death Eaters are here—maybe Voldemort—and we have to fight. I'll be alright to take care of myself and stay out of the way…you'll be alright too?"
Dumbledore felt his heart ache—when had Harry gained such a clear understanding of war? Or, for that matter, Dumbledore's thought process?
He could not, at any rate, argue with Harry's logic, and he could at least reassure him (if allowing the omission of the curse spreading from his hand). "I am unhurt, Harry. I would prefer not to duel Voldemort tonight…but if I must, he will not be able to kill me, I assure you." He sighed. "We will go to the astronomy tower…but Harry, you must promise me to stay under your cloak until I say you may do otherwise, and you are not, under any circumstances, to put yourself in the way of danger. That includes protecting me. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded reluctantly. Dumbledore steadied him as he brought out his invisibility cloak and swung it around him.
With a terrible feeling that he couldn't quite shake, Dumbledore guided both their brooms upwards towards the Dark Mark.
Dumbledore had just finished helping Harry dismount when they both froze as voices issued from the stairwell leading up to the astronomy tower.
"Under the cloak, Harry."
Dumbledore drew his wand as Harry disappeared under his invisibility cloak. A few seconds later, Draco Malfoy appeared at the top of the stairs and stepped out onto the astronomy tower platform.
"Good evening, Draco," said Dumbledore evenly.
Draco didn't respond, only drew his wand with a shaking hand.
Dumbledore held his own wand in his hand, considering the situation. The curse was taking its toll, and he felt his magic less focused than ever, his mind less in control of all the variables. But he still had a few precious seconds to make a decision, and in the moment Draco opened his mouth to cast a spell, he cast an immobilizing charm in Harry's direction.
In the same moment that his wand flew from his hand as Draco's disarming spell landed, he felt his own spell take form…then miss its target and dissipate in the air.
Harry must have moved—he didn't know if it was his poor aim or Harry had known what he was about to do.
But there were five Death Eaters standing in front of him and he had no time to dwell on such questions.
"Ah, got him without his wand, Draco…well done…" Bellatrix crooned.
Dumbledore had never so intensely longed for the Elder Wand in his hand and his magic at full force. Anxiety clawed at his gut as he imagined Harry lying somewhere on the floor under his cloak, suffering and alone, maybe even dying…he wished he could simply blast the Death Eaters to dust and get Harry to safety. But he was paying the price for his foolishness last June, and he would have to make do with what he had.
Then a soft, steely voice, one Dumbledore knew so well, issued from behind Draco. "No."
Severus pushed Draco out of the way and the other Death Eaters took a step back. Severus' black robes billowed in the breeze that always swept the Astronomy Tower, but beneath his cloak Severus stood as rigid as a flag pole. Slowly, deliberately, he drew his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore.
"Severus…Severus, please…" The words slipped out before he could stop them. If he died, who would find Harry and bring him help? The wand pointed at him no longer just meant relief from his struggles and deliverance from a painful end. It now put Harry in very real danger, and the helplessness he felt was worse than anything he'd felt so far that night. If he was alive, he could at least do his best to protect Harry. Dead, he could only hope the dominoes would fall as his plan required.
He met Severus' eyes. They were dark and unreadable, his strongest occlumency shields preventing Dumbledore from sending any sort of signal. To the potion master's credit, his outstretched hand did not tremble, and if Dumbledore were sure that Harry was safe, he would be satisfied that this setup looked exactly as he had intended.
But he knew Harry. He knew what Harry might do if he were not physically prevented from intervening, and so it was with utter helplessness that he stood and waited for the curse to come, praying that Harry would do what he'd asked and stay out of harm's way.
Severus had stood there for only a moment, even if to Dumbledore it had felt so much longer. Without drama, his face still guarded, if slightly pale, Snape took a breath.
"Avada Kedavra."
Harry didn't mean to dodge Dumbledore's body-binding spell. His legs simply collapsed beneath him at the right time, but he felt the spell pass just overhead, and he knew, even in his half-delirious state, what Dumbledore had intended.
He was meant to stay out of the way, and as long as Dumbledore had his wand and Voldemort didn't appear, he recognized in practical terms that he was unlikely to be of any help.
Even when Draco disarmed him, Harry trusted Dumbledore to find a way. But then Bellatrix came…Greyback and the others…and finally Snape.
He wasn't sure whether to feel relief or fear when the black-clad, bat-like figure stepped out onto the astronomy tower floor, eerily lit by the green glow of the Dark Mark still writhing in the sky. But any confusion was erased the moment Snape pushed Draco out of the way and raised his wand. There was a conviction emanating from him, the recognition of a task that stood waiting to be completed, with neither malice nor kindness, but with an intensity that scared Harry, for he knew in that moment what Snape intended.
As Snape raised his wand, a conviction swept through Harry, stronger than whatever poison the potion had left behind in his mind and body. The image of Sirius falling through the veil flashed across his mind with painful clarity, and he knew that he could not let another loved one die for him. He knew also that Dumbledore wanted him to do anything but what he was about to do, but all he could see was the flash of green light and Sirius' last laugh frozen in time.
And with every bit of strength he had left, Harry rose to his feet.
There was a flash of green light. Dumbledore felt, not the blast of a spell or even numbness, but the impact of a person thrown backwards by a curse. It sent them both over the edge of the astronomy tower.
His magic reacted instinctively, tethering Harry to him and slowing their descent to a gentle landing. He barely stopped to cast a concealment charm in case the Death Eaters chanced a look to the ground below the tower before removing the invisibility cloak. Harry lay completely still, the tremors from the potion gone, but with them any immediate sign of life. Putting two fingers at Harry's throat, he felt a pulse.
There would be time to understand later. For now, what mattered was that Harry was alive, and he could get him to help if he moved quickly.
Dumbledore gathered Harry into his arms. He could have levitated him, but he needed to feel that Harry was alive, feel his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest.
The castle was eerily quiet. He passed a few Death Eaters lying fallen—he spared them barely a glance, casting a few hastily conjured binding spells to make sure they did not move.
Then finally, blessedly, Harry's heart still beating, they reached the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore sent a brush of magic to open the doors ahead of him, and all the conversation died as he strode through.
He took a moment to register that most of the Order was there, and a few beds had occupants, but there was a notable absence of sobs or screams. He'd seen enough aftermaths of battles to know that meant there were no deaths.
He was too focused on Harry to pay much attention to the gasps and questions as the others understood what they were seeing. He approached the nearest bed, but his limbs were too stiff and wooden, and refused to respond, continuing to clutch Harry instinctively. Remus and Molly stepped forward immediately, faces pale and set, and they took Harry from Dumbledore's arms and laid him on the bed. Madam Pomphrey turned from Bill with a nod to Fleur to keep applying the ointment and hurried over with a grave face to inspect Harry.
"Pulse weak, but steady…probably exhaustion…aura of dark magic around him…I can't wake him. Albus, what happened?"
But Albus couldn't respond. He had never felt less in control of himself. He felt his magic pouring off of him in waves, instead of tightly coiled within him, and he could not pretend calm. This was not how his plan was meant to happen. He was meant to be dead. Harry was meant to be unharmed. But instead, he lay unmoving on the hospital wing cot, his face pale and sickly.
"Albus, your hands are shaking." Minerva, with her usual steadiness, gently took the vial from him and handed it to Poppy, who continued to spell the potion into Harry's stomach.
Minerva guided him to a chair, and he sank down. He'd hardly noticed the weariness in his body, the aches that went deeper than his bones, and the desire to not feel anymore, but now it all came crashing down. For all his scheming and genius and power, he could not protect Harry, so none of it mattered. His plan should have let him wrap up his life neatly, letting him lay down his burden. But Harry would have had to carry it alone from there, a voice in his head reminded him. He did not want to think about that. He did not want to think of the world he was leaving to Harry, of the horrors he would have to face.
Not that it mattered, anyway.
He came to his senses as Minerva knelt in front of him. "Albus? Please, tell us what happened."
Dumbledore's stomach twisted. He couldn't do this. Couldn't relive the nightmare that was this night. The toll of the past few months was finally coming to a head. The curse was wearing him down. I should be dead.
But then Minerva's voice broke through the despair. "Harry needs you."
Not even the most fatalistic, bitter, broken parts of him could argue with that. They did not need the vulnerable, weary, broken old man he was tonight. They needed Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort ever feared, the leader of the light. And Harry needed him most of all.
So, with an effort he had not known he had in him, Dumbledore stood, steadied his shaking hands, and joined Madam Pomphrey at Harry's side.
She said nothing of his momentary absence.
"Potion of Despair, but a modified version. I drank it, and he felt the effects. Then…" he hesitated only for a moment, "an improperly performed killing curse."
He once again ignored the gasps from the others, and Poppy merely raised her eyebrows in response before filing the information and returning to Harry.
"Everything seems normal," said Minerva, crisply performing and sorting the results of every useful diagnostic spell Poppy had not already cast. In a more wavering voice, she added, "He just won't wake up."
Dumbledore blocked out the spike of desperation those words sent through his mind and tried to control the edges of his magic that reared up in mutiny.
Poppy held up her hands helplessly. "I don't think there's anything we can do, Albus. If his vitals start to change, we would know more, but everything looks fine." Repeating Minerva's words, she added, "He just won't wake up."
"Who performed the killing curse?" Asked Minerva. "Not You-Know-Who, surely?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Voldemort did not make an appearance tonight. If he had, I would know…"
"Then who?"
Dumbledore knew he could not withhold this information, but the plan had gone awry so much that
Poppy recognized his hesitancy and gave him a pointed stare, which he ignored. He kept too many secrets, but now was not the time to examine that particular train of thought.
"Perhaps the children should not hear…"
"We deserve to know." It was Ron who spoke. His face was stormy, and he stood halfway between his brother so recently mauled by Greyback, and his best friend who had just been hit by the killing curse for the second time in his short life.
Dumbledore sighed and spoke the name before he could it them back. "Severus."
The cries of shock and outrage were easier to bear than the Minerva's silent horror. She said nothing, but sank into a chair, her face pale and shaken in a way Albus had seldom seen.
Arthur put his hands firmly on Ron's shoulders to keep him from moving towards Dumbledore.
Remus spoke quietly, "No…that doesn't make sense…Voldemort wants to kill Harry himself. Why would he order Severus to do it? And why would Snape be so foolish as to do a thing that would disgrace him from both sides?"
Words were still more difficult to produce than they had ever been in Dumbledore's lifetime, but he knew what he owed this group of people who had been through so much for this war that seemed to grow darker by the day.
"The curse was not aimed at Harry. It was meant for me, and Harry moved to protect me. I did not have my wand…I was too slow…"
The pain, the self-loathing ached even more fiercely, but Minerva spoke up. "It is not your fault, Albus. I trusted Severus as much as you did…I still find it hard to believe that he would…kill you…"
Ah, thought Dumbledore ruefully, this will be harder to explain. My plots are too twisted…a single flaw and they collapse to ruin.
"There is an explanation, but it is imperative that this information does not reach Voldemort's ears. We may yet be able to gain something from tonight's events, but all of that will be lost if Voldemort learns of this. Is that understood?"
Dumbledore made eye contact with each person in the room as each nodded solemnly in return, and he cast a discrete containment charm on the room for good measure.
He spoke slowly, choosing his words with enormous care. "Severus was merely following orders. I instructed him to kill me."
Minerva leapt to her feet, her face still pale, but this time with fury. "You what? Have you lost your mind?"
Dumbledore held up his injured hand, still withered and black. "I was—am—already dying. Severus' actions last June were largely responsible for allowing me this time to live, but I was going to die in short order. Having him kill me would have both spared me a painful end and ensured that Voldemort would trust him completely."
He left out the bit about the Elder Wand. There would still be some secrets he would have to keep.
Minerva sat down heavily. "Albus…you're not…you're…dying?"
Dumbledore circled Harry's bed and knelt, taking her hand gently. "We can talk more about this later, Minerva. We have time now, and if nothing else it gives me a chance to say goodbye."
Minerva glanced between Harry and the headmaster. She did not have to say it—the thought of losing both of them hung heavily in the air. For the first time in years, Minerva McGonagall cried. What was not yet broken of Albus' heart shattered at the sight, but he could do little else besides give her hand a gentle squeeze and offer a handkerchief. "I cannot promise a miracle, but I will keep looking for a solution." In a louder voice for the benefit of others in the room, he added, "However, until he is fully stable, Harry remains my chief concern."
Minerva nodded. She understood what Harry meant to him, and that he would fight any curse to stay alive if only to ensure that Harry survived.
Hermione spoke quietly, evidence of tears less conspicuous than the pure rage that made her voice tremble. "Harry deserves to know."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "I owe Harry a complete explanation…when he wakes." He left the unspoken dread that he would not. It was not a thought he could contemplate at the moment.
Poppy was perhaps the only one in the room to keep her composure. Her medical training showed in her set face and steady hands as she continued to tend Harry.
Dumbledore ignored the pain in his limbs as he rose to his feet again and crossed to the chair next to Harry's side and sank into it. He rested a hand lightly on Harry's wrist, taking comfort in the steady heartbeat he felt.
Remus walked over cautiously to Harry's other side. "Is there nothing we can do?"
Dumbledore glanced at Poppy, who shook her head. He unconsciously rubbed a thumb against Harry's hand, as if Harry could feel the gesture. He knew the answer more by instinct than any medicinal knowledge. "I believe it is up to Harry now to come back to us."
Dumbledore wanted only to rest, but he knew he was still a general. Still, he could delegate. "Kingsley, would you do a patrol of the castle? Alastor, would you be up to that as well?"
Both nodded and left the hospital wing to secure any remaining Death Eaters, though Dumbledore, connected as he was to the castle's magic, knew that such a possibility was low.
A heavy silence hung in the air. Fleur returned to dabbing Bill's wounds with ointment. Those standing sank into chairs or onto a bed. Hands sought others for comfort. And they waited.
The sun rose in the morning, and Dumbledore could not help but hate it. He'd felt the same after Ariana's death. How the sun could care so little about the pain he felt…the world kept turning without a care…
Not a single person had left the hospital wing, except for Tonks, who returned from the kitchens with food that was picked at halfheartedly.
The sun rose to full height, then began to sink again. Dumbledore agreed reluctantly to Madam Pomphrey's various remedies and potions. He would be no use to Harry if he simply collapsed.
As it began to grow dark again, Madam Pomphrey insisted that the others at least try to lie down and rest. She did not bother with him—she knew the responsibility he felt to be there if—no, when—Harry woke up.
Remus, Arthur, and Molly rested if only to pressure the children to do the same, and soon it was only Dumbledore and Poppy sitting beside Harry in that awful silence.
It was as the last rays of the sunset filtered through the windows that Harry's breathing hitched ever so slightly, as if in pain. Dumbledore sat forward and Poppy quickly re-cast her previous litany of charms.
"Harry?"
Every person pretending to rest leapt to their feet and Poppy cast a quick protection charm around Harry's bed as a standard procedure.
And finally, Harry opened his eyes. Dumbledore thought he had no more emotion left to spend, but the tears came and not his strongest occlumency shields could have stopped them.
He gently slid Harry's glasses onto his face and tenderly brushed the unruly black hair out of Harry's eyes. He vaguely noticed Arthur holding Remus back with a cautious hand—this was his responsibility.
"Prof'sor?" Harry's voice was weak and tired, but Dumbledore had never heard such a beautiful sound. "What happened?"
"It's all right, Harry. You were hurt, but you're getting better. You're going to be fine."
"Are you…okay?"
It was what those who knew Harry couldn't help but love about him, and yet worry them to distraction at the same time. Dumbledore let the tears fall and trickle into his beard. "I'm fine. But…" he braced himself; this could not wait. "You gave me your word, Harry. You promised you would not sacrifice yourself for me."
"I couldn't…stand by…"
"I asked you to trust me."
"I didn't want to lose you."
He did not care that half the Order was there, watching him show a vulnerability he had probably not shown since he was a child. Did not care that his magic was still pouring off of him in waves, revealing the power that could not help but frighten others. He could not care about anything but the boy lying before him, having once again so nearly died. It was all just too much.
All his lying and plotting and scheming had not protected Harry, and honesty was the only tool he had remaining, difficult though it would be.
"I carried you to this very wing five years ago, Harry. When you saved the Stone from Voldemort…I did not know if you would live. I promised myself I would never allow you to come so close to dying again. I have been a poor protector…despite sacrificing your happiness for your safety on too many occasions."
Dumbledore squeezed Harry's hand gently before continuing. "I cannot ask you to be less than you are. Your courage and selflessness are a part of you, and I would not wish to change that even if I could...rather, I need you to understand the worry and pain that the people around you go through when you put yourself in harm's way. You know too well what it is to lose people you love…understand that that is what we go through when you sacrifice yourself."
Dumbledore held Harry's gaze, determined to get through to him. After a pause, Harry nodded.
"Is everyone else alright?"
Dumbledore resisted glancing over to Bill. "It is war, Harry, and tonight will have its consequences and leave its scars, but everyone is alive, and will heal with time, I promise."
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly with worry and more unasked questions, but Dumbledore smiled slightly Harry seemed reassured enough to leave further investigation.
"And can I ask one more question?"
"Certainly, Harry."
"Why didn't the killing curse…well, kill me?"
It was a question Dumbledore would rather have put off, but he owed Harry more than that. "The curse was not meant for you. Severus is not a killer—" He squeezed Harry's hand slightly in response to Harry's scoff. "For someone like Voldemort, mustering the conviction to kill is easy, but Severus attacked with narrow intentions, specific only to killing me. They did not apply to you and thus the curse was weakened enough to not be lethal, but in your already weakened state from the potion…I suppose your body shut down to protect itself. If your magic understands it is no longer under threat, everything should return to equilibrium. I think you'll be fine with a little more rest."
Poppy stepped forward before Harry could respond. "Speaking of rest, I think that's enough heavy topics for one evening, young man. I think it's best if you fell asleep on your own, but I have some Dreamless Sleep if you need it."
It spoke volumes of Harry's exhaustion that he didn't argue, but simply closed his eyes. Dumbledore reached out and removed his glasses. It was only a few moments more before Poppy nodded, indicating he was asleep.
Dumbledore sat back and let the relief wash over him. More battles lay ahead, and he would have to find a way to tie up the end of his life without sentencing those he cared about to too much pain, but for now, Harry was alive, the invasion was contained, and Severus had tried to kill him, with witnesses, in a manner Voldemort would be forced to recognize.
He would have to reconceive his final plan…the fate of the Elder Wand…Severus' standing as a spy…the horcruxes…problems that would have to be deconstructed and solved bit by bit.
He took in the background activity of the Hospital Wing. Arthur was holding Ron, murmuring words of comfort. Fleur was dabbing ointment on Bill, tears streaming down her cheeks but her hands steady and gentle. And Remus' hand had found Tonks' as the two sat together quietly in the corner.
Yes, Dumbledore thought to himself with the first moment of hope he'd felt in some time, we're going to be alright.
It was not until he sat down in his office again many nights later, finally allowing himself to rest, that he realized the pain of the curse that had grown steadily for so many months was receding ever so slightly. And despite his brilliance, it took Albus several more days to realize what that meant.
A/N: I've been wanting to write this for a while, but it's been stuck in my scraps pile. I skipped a lot of the dialogue on the astronomy tower that's in the book; I think it's great, but J.K. Rowling did it a lot better than I ever could, and this is about what could have happened, so I trimmed it a bit.
More chapters are coming with other Harry-Dumbledore moments and storylines that could've, but didn't, happen, but first I'll probably post a chapter for my other series of one-shots (Harry-Dumbledore missing moments that are consistent with canon events). Let me know if you have any requests for either! Thanks for reading, and as always, reviews much appreciated!