Chapter 8
Harry turned, walking towards the door. He reached for the bolt on the outside, drew it back, and stepped into the room.

Harry shut the door behind him, leaving Eowyn and the others behind.
He could not yet bring himself to look up at the man before him. He could just make out that this man was sitting down at some sort of desk. He was not sure what to do. His mouth was completely dry; his palms sweaty. He simply stood there, silent and motionless, hands by his side.
Suddenly, the man spoke.
"Hello, Harry."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He looked up. He stared; he couldn't tear his eyes away. For he knew the man in the chair. And from the familiar twinkle in the man's calm blue eyes, he knew perfectly well who he, Harry was too.
Harry managed to speak. He spoke the only thing he could think of. The name of the man before him, sitting so calmly as he somehow always managed to do.
"Professor Dumbledore?"

Harry stared for a moment as the words left his mouth and echoed dimly through the room. He stared at Professor Dumbledore...
But...was it him? Harry continued to stare. It...no, it wasn't, but...
Harry couldn't tell. He didn't know what to say. All that he knew was that somehow the Gandalf that he had seen the night he had arrived here, and the Professor Dumbledore that he had come to know so well, seemed to have melded into one. Both of them were sitting there, as one form, and Harry could think of no better way to say it. Both were present; he could not say how or why. But that much he was sure was true.
Both were before him.

Harry had quite forgotten that the strange form of what somehow appeared to be Professor Dumbledore and Gandalf the White had not yet spoken. As he did now, Harry gave a start.
"Ah," he said, his eyes glinting. "You can see me, Harry."
Harry stared in shock.
"W-what?"
He, that strange man that Harry could not yet understand, stood up slowly, his white clothes flowing.
"You can see me," he replied simply.
"I-I don't understand..."
He gestured at the chair on the other side of the wooden desk.
"Please," he said. "Sit down."

Harry stumbled over to a chair and sat down. He didn't understand at all. How...how could this be? His desire for information was suddenly at is strongest. At that moment, Harry truly needed to know everything.
He was glad that the man, whoever he was, had also sat down. It seemed far more friendly and human when he did.
"Harry," he said. "Well...tell me, what do you want to know?"
Harry looked up, his eyes blazing suddenly.
"What do I want to know?" he said furiously. "What do I want to know? Everything! I want to know what's been happening all summer, what this place is, why I'm here and you...who are you?"
He smiled at Harry.
"Who am I?" he said slowly. "Well, Harry, that will take a lot of explaining indeed...let me see...where shall I begin...?"

The man paused, thinking. Harry held back his feelings; he just wanted to know. Suddenly, the man opened his mouth, apparently convinced he had found a way to begin his story.
"Do you know where we are, Harry?"
Harry bit his tongue to stop himself shouting. He wanted answers, not more questions. He counted to ten in his head, and managed to answer.
"Eowyn told me...Helm's Deep...?"
The man nodded and smiled.
"But do you know where Helm's Deep is?"
Harry shook his head. The man leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. He took a deep breath, and began.
"This is the land of Middle Earth, Harry. This can not be declared a wizarding world, or a world of men, or any such thing you may have previously known."
"You mean..." said Harry slowly, taking this new information in. "We're in a different world?"
The man nodded.
"So how did you come to be here...Professor?" Harry said uncertainly.
The man sighed.
"The only way for a person to be able to be present in another world to that which they were originally born in, is if that person has died."
Harry stared at him in shock.
"You've - you've died? But they need you - back at home! They need you to help them fight Voldemort!"

Harry stared at him, yet the man would not look back. Suddenly a horrible thought occurred to Harry.
"But...does that mean I'm dead too?" he asked, dreading the answer.
The man looked back.
"You were dead, at one point, Harry," he said slowly. "When Voldemort attempted to kill you, both of you died, for an instant."
Harry tried to process the information.
"I - I was dead?"
"Yes," said the man solemnly. "But both of you managed to hold on to this world...so strong was both of your wills to survive."
Harry couldn't look at him. Suddenly, he was furious. Why was he never told these things...until it was too late? Why? What had he done to deserve being constantly kept in the dark?
Suddenly a thought struck Harry.
"But what about you? Tell me you're still present in the other world?"
The man looked at Harry.
"I am no longer needed there, Harry."
Harry stared at him, trying to work it all out. They were both here...
Then he realised. The knowledge struck him down like the fiercest spell. Harry put both hands on the table to steady himself and looked at the man.
"Voldemort," he said hoarsely. "Voldemort is here too?"
The man nodded.