Chapter 7

"That explains a few things, I guess," Harry sat, bewildered.

"Be that as it may, I am confident that he is deceased, having witnessed his death myself."

Harry refocused on the headmaster.

"Now, I believe we have one of two scenarios of which to consider: either someone has stumbled across the hiding place of the old Knights of Walpurgis and will be using the name to strike fear back into the wizarding community, or it is someone from those days of cruelty and death, returned to exact his or her revenge."

Harry leaned forward and rested his head on fisted hands supported on his knees. "What can you tell me about the Knights?"

Amelia Bones stood and neared the fireplace. "Mr. Potter, Headmaster, the matter will be taken into account by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Please do not interfere in Ministry matters."

Harry was about to respond, but Dumbledore answered first. "Of course, Amelia. As always, I have supreme confidence in matters left in the hands of the Ministry of Magic. Please relay my greetings to Minister Shaklebolt at your meeting."

Harry noticed the ironic smile on Dumbledore's face. Mrs. Bones features went sour; she threw a handful of Floo Powder at her feet in the fireplace, and disappeared in a whoosh of flames.

"Why was she so angry?" asked Harry.

"She lost her husband to Grindelwald himself, killed at one of the many death camps he was so fond of." He sighed. "This newest battle will be personal for her, Harry. Even with confident knowledge that it is not, in fact, Grindelwald, Amelia will make every attempt to quash this newest incarnation before it rears its head to strike."

He leaned back in his chair and looked into the emerald flames in the fireplace, considering something. "I believe we will hear something more from the Knights of Walpurgis before this matter is settled."

They sat in silence for more than ten minutes while Harry considered what to do and how best to protect Hermione. For it was obvious what the Knights were after: the new magic.

He looked back up at Dumbledore as saw pale color of his skin and the haunted look in his eyes, eyes that were even now turning to meet his own.

"You have questions, Harry." He stated it as fact and nothing more.

"No, Sir."

Dumbledore turned and leaned into his desk. "Nonsense."

Harry looked down and back up again. "I know what it's like to be asked about facing a dark lord, Sir. It's personal and people shouldn't ask."

The wrinkles in the headmaster's face looked deeper than ever, and his eyelids drooped closed and reopened so slowly that Harry was sure he Dumbledore had fallen asleep sitting up.

"This is very true, Harry. However, you and I share comparable life experiences. Ask your questions."

Harry looked reluctant, but followed the headmaster's request. "How did he die?"

Dumbledore knew this to be the first question, for his answer came far too quickly. "I killed him." He paused in remembrance. "It was much different than your battle with Voldemort. There was no duel. There was no magic involved at all, at first. I refused to use the Killing Curse. I thought it too inhumane even against a monster such as Grindelwald.

"I had infiltrated his secret bunker in the mountains of northern Germany, not as the Muggle histories say of another location. After stunning several of his personal guard I took one of their weapons and stepped into his private chambers.

"He was bathing at the time and I watched as he struggled to reach his wand and contain his modesty at the same time. I remember walking briskly up to him and holding the pistol to his forehead as he froze in place."

Dumbledore looked down and paused in his story, taking a slow breath. "He seemed relieved that it was over and he was going to receive a quick and relatively painless death. Quick, as it were, from the bullet of a Muggle pistol."

He laughed and Harry saw his eyes pooling at the memory.

"But you see, Harry, I had visited a few of his death camps in search of clues to his whereabouts. I saw what pure evil was capable of and I couldn't let him die so quickly ... not after what I had seen."

Harry didn't want to know anymore, and covered his eyes with his hands rubbing at them as if to waken himself from a horrid nightmare. This was Dumbledore sitting in front of him.

"Why are you telling me this, Sir."

"It is necessary that you know what we are all capable of, Harry." He hesitated for a moment. "Even I, in all of my forged nobility since that day, am more than able to sink to the depths of hatred and vengeful fury to commit such a horrible act."

Harry remembered a taste of that anger; a sip in the cup of what Dumbledore was able to experience. The end of his fourth year, after he had returned to Hogwarts having just dueled with Voldemort. He remembered the look on the headmaster's face when he blew open the door to the Defense office and entered. And that was just because Barty Crouch Jr. had taken him. He couldn't imagine what the look on his face might have been like facing Grindelwald.

But he could imagine what righteous vengeance felt like. Knowing the power was yours to do with it what you will when your most hated enemy is standing before you, virtually helpless. It was the same with Bellatrix Lestrange, when she had her back to him at Malfoy Manor. Harry laid the most painful curse he could on her and still be legal. Even when he found out about his latent Enchanting ability and knew the Popping Boil Curse would be permanent he didn't feel much remorse; certainly not enough to seek her out and perform the counter curse.

She deserved every moment of agony for the deeds she committed, and they were much less severe than the atrocities of Grindelwald.

"I understand, Sir."

Dumbledore looked into his eyes. "Do you, Harry?"

Harry straightened. "Sir, even if you boiled him alive, he deserved every ..."

Dumbledore's eyes widened and Harry knew that was exactly what he did.

Harry swallowed. "He deserved it, Sir."

Dumbledore's eyes close again. "No person deserves to die like that. It made me no better than he."

Harry stood. "You're wrong." If there was one thing he understood more than any other it was that each dark lord he known about, deserved everything that eventually befell them, and more.

He had no sympathy for Grindelwald, just as he had no sympathy for Voldemort, Malfoy, or Lestrange. It didn't take being a dark lord to be evil to the core, but it took more than simple and clarifying vengeance to do what needed to be done. May they all burn in hell.

"If it is the Knights of Walpurgis that have tried to take Hermione away from me then I'll hunt them down, Sir. And I will finish each and every one of them."

Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "It is not for us to judge their actions and pronounce sentence upon them."

Harry turned to the door. "Isn't it, Sir? Who better than the victims of the crime to decide proper punishment?"

He turned when he reached the door.

"Harry, it is the actions we choose in these circumstances that mold us into who we are."

"I understand that, Professor. That's why you and the others trained me to kill Voldemort, not capture him and lock him in Azkaban, but kill him. Not because of what was right or some higher moral purpose, but because some prophecy to you to.

"A sixteen year old boy was trained as a weapon of death for the betterment of wizard-kind. Was it justified?"

Dumbledore looked so very old, as if the weight of the world had been dropped into his lap. "You are correct, of course, Harry ... to my everlasting regret."

Harry gave him a hard grin in return. "I don't regret a moment of it, Sir. Because of you and the Order of the Phoenix I was able to avenge my parents deaths, Sirius' death, Cedric Diggory's death, and I was able to have my life back. Now I'm going to spend it with the woman I love, and if anyone gets in my way ... I'll destroy them as well."

"Harry, please reconsider the path of which you choose."

"No, Sir. Perhaps Amelia Bones was right in her anger. You are the smartest person I know sir. You are powerful and wise, thoughtful and tolerant, but there is one thing I think you have forgotten."

Dumbledore pushed himself up and stood behind his desk. "And what would that be, Harry."

"You've forgotten what if feels like to experience pure passion."

Dumbledore blinked one again. "You are mistaken, Harry. I remember it quite well. The last time I let my passions rule me I boiled a man alive."

Harry turned and started down the stairs. "No, Sir. He wasn't a man. He was Evil. Pure and simple Evil."

The walk back to the Defense office was quick and Harry knew as he escorted Hermione and Allison to the Great Hall that he would be eating nothing; the entire conversation with Dumbledore had soured his stomach and the headmaster's lack of presence at the staff table told Harry that someone else didn't feel like eating either.

"So what did he say, Harry?" Hermione asked as she dug into a roast chicken.

"Knights of Walpurgis."

Her fork clattered to the plate in front of her. "Grindelwald?"

Harry shook his head. "He's dead."

Hermione didn't look so sure. "That's what they said about Voldemort."

Harry turned his head. "Believe me ... he's dead."

Her eyes widened. "Professor Dumbledore told you what happened?"

He nodded and sipped at his cup of coffee.

"He's never told anyone. There are no official reports on the subject. He wouldn't file one."

Harry almost laughed then the reality of it sank in. "I wouldn't have filed a report either."

Hermione took a bite of potato and sat chewing for a moment. "What happened?"

"Dumbledore killed him."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I figured as much, but there was no body and people all over Europe swore out sightings of him for years afterward."

Harry slammed his cup down and hot coffee spilled over the side down his hand. "He's dead, Hermione," he said through gritted teeth.

She looked at him, hard, and then softened. "It was bad ... what he did, wasn't it."

He sighed and wiped the coffee away on his linen napkin. "Yes."

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"What for?"

She took his hand. "For finding out that a person that you have held in the highest esteem for so long is only human."

Harry pushed his chair out. "I'll be in my office. I need to go over a training manual; one of the new sixth-years wants to start up D.A. again."

"When?"

"Tonight. I'm dueling with him at seven so I'll be late."

She nodded softly. "You're not going to be at dinner?"

He shook his head, and Hermione grabbed his hand before he left. "Harry, don't push me away ... please."

He stopped. "I just need some time alone right now."

"I understand, but if you want to talk about anything."

He nodded and smiled briefly.

The rest of the day dragged on forever. It was the first day of classes and Harry thought it would never end. his last class ended at three but between students stopping by to ask questions and studying the training manual, Harry didn't have time to think much about the Knights of Walpurgis or Grindelwald.

The stairs to the seventh floor were unusually crowded on the way to the Room of Requirement at a quarter of seven and Harry wondered what was going on ... that is until he reached the seventh floor and saw for himself.

It seemed their duel was a little more public than Harry was expecting. He waited in queue with the rest of the students who were looking at him with curiosity, probably wondering why a Professor would bother waiting when he had the power to tell everyone to get out of the way.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were at the door collecting three Sickles from each person entering and showing them where to sit, until they saw Harry.

"Making a little profit off the dual tonight guys?"

Seamus tried to look innocent. "It's for a good cause, Professor."

Harry smiled. "And what's that?"

"Supplies."

Harry was trying to keep a straight face. "Supplies for what?"

He didn't bother letting them try to answer. "Just make sure my half actually goes to a worthy cause."

"Your half?"

"St. Mungo's is good enough ... unless you'd like to donate all of it?"

Dean smiled. "St. Mungo's it is."

He flipped them a single Galleon and stepped into the room to find it much different than the other times he had been here. On either side was bleacher style seating, the entire length of the room, which was at least sixty feet. The dueling circles were arranged on either side dead center to leave optimum room so nobody would be hit with a stray spell.

The stands were almost full of spectators four rows high. It seemed as if half of Hogwarts had come to watch. he picked out a few professors as well, including Dumbledore who had a front and center seat.

"Great," he said dryly to himself.

"Professor Potter," interrupted Pyotr Yudin who had appeared beside him. "I didn't ... I only told ..."

Harry shook his head. "Welcome to Hogwarts 'word of mouth'. If you try to keep something secret, by the next meal time everyone will know."

He returned the folder to the sixth-year. "I've approved all but seven lessons. They are clearly marked. Take your position."

Pyotr was still pale and judging from the beads of sweat on his forehead, quite nervous. Harry walked out to the center of the room and held his hands up for everyone to quiet down.

"Is that the last of them Seamus?"

He got the thumbs up and Harry nodded in return.

"Great. This was suppose to be a trial to test the new D.A. assistant, and it seems to have gotten a little out of hand, as things seem to go around here."

There was a smattering of laughter and Harry looked around waiting for it to die down when he caught Hermione's eye at the top left of the stands.

"I assume since you are here, all of you are interested in taking after hours practical lessons."

He was expecting a few groans and was instead gifted with nods, and smiles.

"Okay, I wasn't expecting that."

More laughter followed.

"In that case I think we are going to need more teachers. Sixth and Seventh-years only please, if you are interested in helping out, come down and step up."

Harry wasn't surprised to see a good amount of transfer students stand and work their way to the middle of the room, and even a few of the Hogwarts seventh years as well. In total twenty-one volunteered.

"Professor Dumbledore, would you please erect protection barriers for the audience?"

He smiled. "Of course, Harry."

He withdrew his wand and muttered something that Harry couldn't hear, then nodded once to him.

"Thanks." He turned to the volunteers. "For this crowd I think ten teachers will suffice. Here are the rules. If you are disarmed then you are out of the game. Oh, and no really painful curses, please."

He stepped over to his dueling circle. "Ready?"

One of the volunteers raised her hand.

"Yes, Suzanne?"

"Professor, which one of us will you be dueling with first, Sir?"

Harry smiled. "Well, we have to give our audience their money's worth how about all of you at once?"

Gasps rang throughout the room.

One of the Durmstrang's from Slytherin house laughed. "What, twenty-one to one?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Does seem a little out of balance, doesn't it? Remember Mr. Belov, when you are facing a practitioner of the Dark Arts, things are hardly ever what they appear to be."

He pointed his wand at himself. "Multiplum Persona!"

Appearing all around Harry, popping up from left and right, in forward and back were exact duplicates of himself all drawing their wands upon fully forming. The eyes of the volunteers bugged and several jaws dropped.

"Ready? Begin."