Chapter five: Into the Pensieve once more

Had anyone told Harry that at any point in his life, he and Ron would be poring over book after book in the Hogwart's library without any pushing or prodding by Hermione, he likely would have hexed said person just for the thought.

Yet, here he was, five years later, dutifully checking the entire collection of monstrous compendiums they could find in the library for anything that matched the horrified word Hermione had muttered the night before.

Not finding it in the current tome in front of him in either the main pages or the index, Harry slapped the book shut with a dejected sigh, placing it on the top of the third stack of such books he had compiled. "Any luck?"

"I've gone of Carbunkles to Cockatrices to Cymorants." Ron moaned, "Nothing."

From behind them, there was a polite cough that caused them to jump. Whirling about guiltily, even though they weren't doing anything wrong, they found themselves looking up at Dumbledore, the aged wizard's bushy eyebrows raised almost playfully.

"If I were not reasonably certain in regards to my sanity, I would be worried I was going mad." The headmaster said lightly, "Professor Granger would surely faint in shock to see you two here without her… strong recommendations."

Dumbledore's eyes caught the massive collection on the table in front of the two young wizards, and said cheerily, "I suspect you won't find any mention of Cambions in those books, gentlemen… but I suspect I know where you could."

He then turned about, and began to walk away. After about ten feet, he turned slightly, and asked, "Well, are you coming?"

Harry and Ron jumped out of their seats, and caught up the distance before Dumbledore began walking again, this time towards the "Forbidden Knowledge" section of the library. The librarian gave a polite nod to Dumbledore as she watched the three enter, albeit with a small degree of wariness.

Harry and Ron hadn't had much reason to be in this section of the library many times, so the old shelves and somewhat dark atmosphere still held that degree of mystery that Hogwarts as a whole had once held when they were but schoolboys.

Their heads were trying to look in so many directions except forward that they nearly ran into Dumbledore when he abruptly stopped halfway down the fourth shelf of the section. The headmaster's eyes ran up and down the shelf, finally stopping with a satisfied, "Ah! Yes… here it is."

Dumbledore grabbed one rather thin book in bound black leather and some form of blood red lettering on the front cover. "I do believe this will hold what you are looking for. As you might guess from the title, this is a book that is not in common circulation for obvious reasons."

Harry took the book, and read out loud the title:

101 Fiends and Creatures of Hell

Or

101 Things that would make you Lose Sleep Every Night if you Knew they Existed

"There should be tables in the northwest part of this section if you would wish to sit down." Dumbledore noted. "If you have any questions later, I suspect I will be in my office."

With that, the aged Headmaster of Hogwarts retreated from the library while Harry and Ron found the study tables in question. Taking seats side by side from each other, Harry opened the book, and jumped back as the front page belched a bright plume of flame and a choking sulfuric smoke.

Ron coughed twice and muttered, "Was that really necessary? I sometimes think these books are more dangerous than the damned things they tell about."

Harry began skimming the headings, intentionally ignoring the fearsome and horrifying images on many of the pages, even as some of them growled angrily, and one of them actually fought the page being turned. "Abyssmars… Balrogs… ah! Cambions!"

"Move over, I can't see…" Ron said, nudging Harry's shoulder in the process. Harry slid to his left slightly, and nearly bonked heads with Ron as they began to read the section.

Many of the more conservative elements of the wizarding world would point to half-giants as the reason why half breeds should be disavowed and possibly criminalized at all costs. While this may be, half-giants would not be the one to hold the argument true.

The term, Cambion, was once specifically defined as the offspring of a mortal man and a succubus (page 441), but has recently come to mean any direct progeny of an unholy union between humans and demons. This is different from the Tiefling (page 510), which merely carries fiendish blood somewhere along their family line.

In the case of Cambions, the axiom that "the whole is greater than the sum of its parts" is disturbingly accurate. Cambions hold many of the strengths of their mortal and demonic heritage, and few of their weaknesses.

For example, most Cambions have few of the telltale marks of demons, and the few that they do have can be hidden with a high enough degree of ingenuity. Thus, they can mingle and hide in plain sight among their human kin without the need of magical charms or devices which would be detected by most vigilant wizards. They also aren't nearly as affected by wards as their full-blooded demon relatives, and banishment charms have no effect whatsoever.

Conversely, while not fully possessing the inhuman physical attributes of their demonic relatives, Cambions are still far stronger and faster than any normal human, and even carry the hastened healing and regeneration of demons. They also often possess a demon's hardiness and inherent resistance to magic. Only the Unforgivable Curses can be counted on to do anything of any real significance to a Cambion, and even the Killing Curse will not do much more than knock a Cambion unconscious for a short time… provided the curse strikes a direct hit to the Cambion's heart.

Cambions also carry many, if not all, of the innate magical abilities of its fiendish parent. The abilities will vary depending on said parent, but almost all Cambions will have some limited psychic abilities, like sensing emotion or even perhaps mind-reading, as well as the ability to create an aura of pure fear that would incapacitate all but the staunchest of souls.

Fortunately, there are never many Cambions on the mortal coil at any given time, and they actually spend more time fighting each other than anything else. Nonetheless, a Cambion in the throes of "The Hunger", an altered mental state that can only be sated through gruesome killing marked by the almost ritualistic devouring of a still living victim, is a near unstoppable force that leaves bodies and horrific damage in its wake.

There is no one always effective strategy to use in the unfortunate case of actually fighting a Cambion, as its vulnerabilities depend greatly on the demonic creature that helped spawn it. But if that knowledge is possessed, the weaknesses that marked its demonic parent will be at least somewhat effective against it. For example, a Cambion born from a Balrog could withstand the flames of the hottest of forges, yet would greatly abhor the chilling freeze of an English winter.

Regardless, the best rule when encountering a Cambion is not to get into a fight with one. By and large, save when afflicted by "The Hunger", a Cambion will not give much thought to attacking a mortal unless provoked. The reason for this general apathy is not fully understood, as their full-blooded demon relatives are known to kill and destroy with great malice and without any prejudice. Some of those who have had the chance to study these creatures suspect that they carry the free will of their human kin, but there is no empirical way to prove such a theory.

Harry closed the book slowly, turning to Ron to gauge his friend's expression. The red-haired man was staring dumbly at the book, his lower jaw hanging limply from his head.

"Bloody hell…" Ron finally muttered, "Why in Merlin's name did Dumbledore bring one of those things here?"

"I think that's the question he wants us to ask." Harry answered.

"Then shall we?"

Harry nodded silently, closing the book, and placing it on the cart marked for return to the shelves. They stopped at the Gryffindor common room to check on how Julie was faring, and were pleased to discover that she was taking her mind off of the events of the last night by playing wizard chess with one of the few other students staying over the break.

They took no more detours to Dumbledore's office, and it seemed like everyone they met in the halls understood that they were not to be pestered or hindered. Even Snape gave them a wide berth, quickly sidestepping the pair as they met at the landing to Dumbledore's office.

"Sweaty Muck Pickles." Harry huffed, not even amused by Albus's whimsical password choices. They both waited as the stairway appeared, but hesitated for a brief moment before slowly taking the steps two at a time.

Hermione and Dumbledore were waiting, the latter behind his desk, while the former took a spot just to the left front. Hermione seemed rather impatient, as she tapped her foot, and said, "It's about time. Albus refused to tell me anything until the two of you were ready."

"I figured it would be easier to relate once with all three of you present rather than tell the same story twice." Dumbledore said as if in explanation. "Thus, it was necessary for you, Harry, Ron, to catch up to what Hermione clearly already knew."

"This creature… a cambion… is Troy really one of them?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, "Indeed. Arguably one of the most powerful cambions I've had the chance to encounter. His demonic parent was clearly of great stock."

"Then why… first you drag me into the school, putting these students at risk… now we find out this thing… are you trying to get these young kids killed?"

Dumbledore regarded Harry sternly, then chastised. "You are beginning to sound more like Cornelius Fudge than I would like. How do you think Remus would appreciate those words coming from your mouth? I had thought we had taught you better than that."

Harry snapped his lips shut, realizing that he had taken a rather boorish step. Harry certainly didn't feel that Lupin was of any significant danger to anyone, and that he was making a judgment that was potentially unfair. Nonetheless, there were some significant differences.

"But Lupin's curse can be controlled, as I understand." Ron took up the argument in Harry's silence. "That doesn't appear to be the case here. Secondly, Remus was afflicted with his condition… Troy was born with this apparently violent and evil force dwelling inside him."

Hermione had remained silent up until that point. "Perhaps we can better judge your actions if we actually learn what it is you seem to be so desperate for us to hear."

"Why just tell you… when I can show you?" Dumbledore stated, pointing down to the all too familiar bowl on his desk, filled three-quarters of the way with the silver liquid that was the manifestation of his multitude of memories, both recent and likely quite distant. He probed the surface with his wand, muttering to himself, "This is a particularly old memory… I suspect it's quite down near the bottom… no, that's not it… not quite, a little earlier than that… Ah! There we are."

Dumbledore took a step back, then said, "Have a look, but don't crowd."

Positioning himself in the center, Harry saw Hermione flank his left and Ron to his right in his peripheral vision before he was enveloped by the images of the Pensieve…

"Albus Dumbledore, I presume?" A middle-aged wizard with a neatly combed brown beard and bizarre yellow and red striped wizard's hat asked, shaking hands with a much younger man, clean shaven, with hair as dark as night. Nonetheless, the whimsical smirk, and energetic eyes were a good giveaway to the trio watching events unfold.

("I could never picture Dumbledore as a young man…" Hermione commented with a whisper, even though she could have screamed her head off without disturbing anything going on and about.

"I know… I guess I always figured he had been born with a knee length beard or something…" Ron quipped.)

Meanwhile, the young Dumbledore graciously accepted the wizard's welcome. "That I would be, Doctor Murrell. I am grateful that you called me first upon recovering your… special guest."

"I don't know of anyone else who can give us any idea as to just how dangerous of a thing we've found. You're probably the world's premier expert on inter-planar creatures." Murrell said.

"Oh, do stop… you're making me blush." Dumbledore replied coyly. "I am nowhere near old enough to be the premier expert on anything."

"Old enough… you just don't look it with that clean chin of yours. You do the wizarding world a disservice shaving yourself bald. When will you act like a proper wizard?"

"Whenever I become so lazy with my personal appearance that I allow hair to take command of my face, I can only hope that incurable madness either immediately precludes or immediately follows it."

(None of the three bystanders were entirely certain whether to take those words as a joke, or somehow prophetic, but it did manage to get them to guffaw or chuckle despite themselves.)

"I suppose you'd like to look at the demon-spawn, now wouldn't you?" Murrell suggested, pointing to what was likely the main hall leading off the foyer.

"Yes, I suppose we shouldn't waste time. Hogwart's does not like its professors to dally, it appears." Dumbledore agreed, but not before adding, "I would also ask that you not call our guest 'demon-spawn'. He is likely a cambion, if what you tell me is true… hardly a pure demonic prodigy… and just as human as he is demon."

Murrell instantly waved off the suddenly irked Dumbledore. "I… apologize. Pardon my ignorance. Not that being half-human would be much better. Not much better than the half-bloods your school has decided to start accepting, even."

This time, the young Dumbledore bit his tongue.

("Attitudes against half-breeds and 'mudbloods' were even more pronounced and generally accepted in the past than it is now." Hermione said bitterly.

"That brings up a good question…" Ron asked, "Just 'when' are we?"

Harry tapped his chin as the images in the pensieve followed Dumbledore and Murrell down the main hall. "Well, Albus is still a professor at this point and time, and since he still looks quite young…"

"We are likely seeing events from some time around 1865." Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "You can tell by the blue scarf on Murrell's forearm. Those were only worn by Northern Wizards to support the Union during the American Civil War."

"I was getting to that…" Harry groused.

Hermione grinned triumphantly, "Sure you were.")

Murrell's voice drew their attention once more, as they entered a large empty dormitory, save for the direct center of the floor, where a series of three glowing blue circles similar to the ones Dumbledore had made in the vampire enclave surrounded a young boy no more than twelve years old. The child looked up, but didn't open his eyes, for reasons that Harry now understood. Troy couldn't stand light much brighter than a full moon. As he did so, apparently his balance shifted, because Troy unfurled his wings slightly to steady himself.

"Oh, yes indeed… you have indeed found a cambion… and at such a young age. This is truly a rare opportunity. Most cambions are born in the lower planes, and don't escape until adulthood. Where did you find him?" Dumbledore clearly had forgotten any umbrage he might have had, fascinated with the boy.

"Witch hunters found the Muggle woman who was apparently his mother, razed the entire property, and burned her at the stake. We went to investigate to see if a witch really had been caught… and found this young man sitting in the center of the burned down house just covered in blood. The sadistic little sot staked each hunter to the ground through the heart… with their own femurs."

Dumbledore nodded, as if not terribly surprised. "They were fortunate, really. Had he been at full maturity, and controlled by 'The Hunger', I'm afraid death would have merely been a welcome escape."

"You mentioned that 'Hunger' thing when I lettered you before you arrived. Should we move him somewhere secluded?" Murrell asked nervously.

"No… as far I as understand, cambions do not fall victim to that curse until they reach maturity. He probably has roughly a decade before we have to worry about that."

"Good." Murrell stated, "That will give you plenty of time to study him before we have to arrange to have him… well, you know… disposed of."

Finally Dumbledore lost his composure, "I will hear of no such thing… do you understand me? We will deal with that when it comes, but if I must appeal to the highest authority in this nation or my own, execution of any human, full or partial, will not be an option."

Murrell stepped back like Dumbledore had slapped him. "Well, of course… if that's what you want. You're in charge, after all. I apologize for overstepping my bounds."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It's not me you should be apologizing to. However, if we are to work together properly, perhaps you should come to accept one thing. I am not a discriminatory person. All living things have my respect until they prove unworthy of it."

"I see… I'll try to keep that in mind. Would you like me to leave while you interview… him?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I insist you stay." Dumbledore ordered. "I have discovered that most fears and prejudice are born of ignorance. Perhaps you should get to know this young man… he might just surprise you."

"Yes… I suppose being introduced to your intestines would be surprising." Troy muttered with macabre coldness.

"That's the sort of thing that has been giving me and the other wizards here a fright." Murrell accused with a shudder. "It's why we have him surrounded by all those wards."

Dumbledore chuckled, and said with an amused grin, "You truly do not know much about cambions, do you? These wards would probably prove to be a nuisance, to be sure, but if he desired to escape and murder every single person in this building, I suspect he could without much trouble. Yet, he does not. Why do you think that is?"

"Because they haven't done anything except be understandably scared of me." Troy said candidly. "I killed those witch hunters because I wanted them to know what it felt like; to be tortured… to slowly die in agony. My mother and I weren't hurting anyone."

"Fascinating…" Dumbledore mumbled, turning back to the boy. "You can see the two halves of his whole so easily… he definitely knows how to kill and possesses the inherent knowledge of demon kind… yet at the same time, the innocence of a child."

At that point, Albus seemed to notice that Troy was not entirely comfortable. "Dear boy… is something bothering you?"

"First of all, my name is Troy; Troy Ailona, not 'boy'." Troy grumped. "Secondly, it's just too bright in here. It's making my eyes hurt."

"Oh!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Well, we shall soon correct that. Murrell, please put out the lamps in here."

"O… okay…" Murrell stammered, "I'm just worried… what if he's like some creatures that grow more powerful in the dark?"

"Since he no doubt already has the power to escape, I fail to see how complying with his request will change anything." Dumbledore reasoned. "Now, will you do as I request, or must I do it myself?"

"No! No… I've got it…" Murrell yelped before flicking his wand hand, instantly shrouding the room in darkness save for the feeble light from the ward circles.

Troy opened his eyes slowly, the glowing blood red circles scanning his surroundings.

"Interesting… yes… yes… this makes sense." Dumbledore said, more to himself than anything. "Troy, it might interest you to know that you were likely sired by a demon from the Pit of Acheron… a lightless void before the infernal castle of Pandemonium… where some of the most powerful hellish minions dwell."

"Is that right?" Troy drawled, his voice not reflecting any potential interest at all. "Can't say I've ever been there."

"It must have been tough on you." Dumbledore then said soothingly. "Growing up unable to see the world during the day. You probably weren't allowed outside much at all, even at night, were you?"

"Mother told me that people would hate me if they knew about me." Troy replied. "It seems she was right."

"Well, I certainly don't hate you, and I suspect Mr. Murrell here is more afraid of the unknown you represent than any hatred." Dumbledore contended.

Troy's eyes finally focused on Dumbledore, and the cambion boy stated, "You are seeking something I am not sure I can help you find, Albus Dumbledore."

"Wonderful!" Dumbledore exclaimed with a soft clap. "You have even inherited the telepathy of your demonic kin."

(In the back of his mind, Harry heard Hermione make a gasp of embarrassment, but he was too enthralled by the images of the Pensieve to give it much thought.)

"Sometimes." Troy amended, before turning his eyes towards one of the walls. "There is someone here who wants to kill you, Mr. Dumbledore… someone who has not met me or I'd be able to identify him."

"Well, I shall keep an open eye then." Dumbledore replied. "However, I have had a long trip, and am somewhat fatigued."

Murrell nodded, and said, "I will show you to your quarters. Right this way."

"Actually…" Dumbledore replied thoughtfully, "Perhaps you can have some bedding brought in here. I think Troy here could use the company."

"More like you're afraid of someone killing you in your sleep." Troy mused, although his voice reflected his pleasure at Albus's suggestion. "But if it doesn't bother you, it does not bother me."

The Pensieve's image shifted, to be replaced by the same room, but this time with several small candles where the lamps had been, providing enough light to see without causing any apparent distress to Troy.

"As you can I see, I erased the wards three days ago, and there have been no grossly murdered bodies found on the environs." Dumbledore explained. "So, in conclusion, I can only assume that Troy means us as much harm as any normal twelve year old boy."

At the same time, Murrell and one other wizard were studying Troy more closely. The cambion boy's back was turned to them while the unidentified wizard lifted his wand, and said softly, "Crucio"

A small burst of energy struck Troy in the back, but rather than crumpling in agonizing pain like most people, Troy flinched, looked back over his shoulder disdainfully, and said, "Don't do that."

Oblivious to the order, the wizard turned to Murrell, and said, "Freakishly unnatural… that curse barely fazes him. See what I mean, Dorian? Crucio"

Another bolt, another glare, and a slightly more forceful warning followed the spell. Murrell nervously turned towards Dumbledore, and raised his voice to get Albus's attention, "Professor Dumbledore, I might need your help here…"

Albus twirled about to ask what he was needed for just in time to see the other wizard snap another Crucius curse towards Troy. This time however, the boy didn't give any more chances, leaping and spinning in mid-air, catching the wizard in the chest and knocking him over. Albus quickly intervened, grabbing Troy by the shoulders to try and calm him while the cambion boy growled threateningly.

"That hurts!" Troy finally screamed at the wizard, respectfully relinquishing his grip. "Stop it!"

"Of course, a twelve year old boy who doesn't understand his own strength…" Albus hastily amended to the group of wizards he had been speaking to at first. "However, I ask you to note that he attacked only under duress that would cripple any normal full-grown man."

"We shall grant you that, Albus." The wizard at the head of the procession declared, "And rest assured that Mr. Kincaid will be reprimanded accordingly. We'll let you continue your study now. Kincaid, come with us… now."

As the group left, Troy snorted, and said, "They won't punish him. I could hear it in that blowhard's head. He just didn't want to insult you and risk losing good favor with Hogwart's."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Dumbledore said with a hint of disgust. "I should have been paying more attention to him."

"Yes, you should have. He's the one that wants to kill you."

Dumbledore started. "I had almost forgotten about that. Are you positive?"

"Thoughts of your death are foremost on his mind." Troy explained, then his voice became somewhat uncertain, "There are other things, but I can't make much sense of them. Some sort of prophecy… he thinks you're going to do something that he can't let you do… it's too unclear from that point on."

"Should we inform the Chief Researcher of this?" Murrell queried. Clearly the passing of time had changed Murrell's opinion of Troy, as there was no indication of disbelief or fear in the researcher's voice.

"And have him ignore us?" Dumbledore snorted derisively. "Not likely. The three of us are just going to have to keep alert, and prepare ourselves for whatever Mr. Kincaid has planned for us."

Another ripple, and another memory followed. Apparently, they had not planned well enough. The wizard known by the name of Kincaid had pinned down Dumbledore in a secluded hall, their wands pointed at each other as if ready for a deadly duel.

"May I ask for what reason you are seeking my demise?" Dumbledore queried, showing his immutable calm even while facing death.

"You may… and I suppose I'll even answer." Kincaid remarked. "Not too many people know that I have a gift of foresight. I saw into your future before you ever arrived here in Hartford. You will do things that I can't allow to happen."

"What would those things be, pray tell?"

"Don't be coy… I can see it in the way you befriended that creature, making him believe he is at all equal or deserving as us. I bet you think of Muggles and those half-blooded abominations in the same way, don't you?"

"If it is wrong to feel that all people deserve the same respect and rights as anyone else, then I suspect this is one thing I never wish to be right about."

"You'll completely destroy the entire hierarchy of the way things should be!" Kincaid hollered. "You're wrong about the half-bloods, Dumbledore. I've seen it! You'll give rise to one of the most evil wizards ever known if I let you continue your foolish altruism!"

Dumbledore was appearing increasingly certain that he was talking to a madman, and began to scan his surroundings for any chance to escape or turn the tables on Kincaid, a chance he found almost right in front of him.

He was standing on a large grate that led down to the cellar of the building, and in that cellar, he saw a pair of gleaming crimson eyes, narrowed fiercely at the hall above. Troy didn't need to say a word for Dumbledore to understand what he wanted.

"Very well… then I suspect we should get this over with…" Dumbledore said with a resigned tone, raising his wand as if ready to start combat… then with a flick extinguished both torches at the ends of the hall.

It didn't take Kincaid long to realize what Dumbledore's plan was. He launched a Killing curse at Albus, but Dumbledore had quickly moved to allow Troy to burst out of the cellar, the grate above it clattering as it crashed against the walls and the floor. Two gleaming eyes signified Troy as the cambion boy launched himself at Kincaid and delivered two punches that cracked bone onto his victim.

At first, Dumbledore was afraid that Troy would kill Kincaid like the boy had the witch hunters who attacked him. However, before he could move to stop Troy, the young one in question appeared so quickly in front of him that Albus nearly collided with him.

"Is he…?" Dumbledore began to ask.

Troy huffed. "If he is, then he is even frailer than I had figured." Troy's eyes then turned away before he added, "But he is still producing warmth, so I doubt it. He's just napping right now."

"That is good. For a moment, I must regretfully admit that I was worried you'd…"

"Kill him?" The cambion's eyes turned back to Dumbledore. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to. But my mother would not have liked that… and I don't want to disappoint her again. I might have been born from a creature of pure evil… but that doesn't mean I have to be that way."

"That's good to hear." Dumbledore said with a smile, "Because I suspect that you could be of great use to a lot of people, given time."

Another image, another time, and this time another place. Dumbledore was pointed down the brick hall and wooden paneled floor that looked nothing like the research facility of the earlier memories, towards a large metal door with only three small slits carved in it. Two neatly robed men pulled the massive door open, and Dumbledore hurried inside, the door closing behind him with a resounding thud, enveloping him in complete darkness.

"Troy?" Dumbledore queried loudly.

A pair of eyes turned toward him from the far south wall of the cell. "Albus?" Troy's voice called, much deeper and more mature then before.

"I came as soon as Dorian informed me that you were starting to experience some… tendencies of violence. Have you fed?"

The eyes bobbed in nodding. "There isn't much left I'm afraid." A startling sob followed, and then Troy spoke again. "I didn't want to… I tried to stop myself… but I couldn't. I wanted to, but I didn't want to at the same time. It felt like I was a stranger in my own body… yet in full control of things that I didn't want. I just felt so hungry, but no food could sate me."

Dumbledore nodded, "We've been preparing for this. It's why you stayed here rather than coming with me. That man, he was condemned to die anyway. The American Government had agreed to give you a person judged to be executed for you to feed on every year when this happens."

"I've had that explained to me… but that doesn't make it any easier."

Dumbledore then said soothingly, "I know. I am looking for some way to cure this as we speak. Unfortunately, research has been slow, and I am not going to risk your life testing theories on you. As much as I deplore the capital punishment this nation revels in, I'd much rather the criminals that are sentenced to die do so than you. I merely ask you to hang on, and never come to enjoy these episodes as others of your kind seem to have done."

"No chance of that." Troy remarked. "If it never happens again, I'd be completely happy."

"I'm afraid to say it likely will happen again, and quite likely on a fairly regular cycle. Keep strong, keep safe, and I will do whatever I can to help you…"

Finally, Dumbledore pulled the Pensieve away, and the three were momentarily disoriented as they took their bearings once more. "As you might have guessed… I haven't found any treatment for Troy. I had a promising theory developing about twenty years ago, but circumstances beyond my control pushed it by the wayside."

"I never imagined Troy was that old, and had dealt with something like this for this long." Hermione said. "To be so obviously traumatized by something that he has no power over. It's amazing he hasn't done something rash to himself…"

"He has." Dumbledore remarked sadly. "Fortunately, it's about as hard for a cambion to kill himself as it is for anyone else."

"Speaking of circumstances beyond your control…" Ron queried, "Where was he during all the trouble with Voldemort? Don't you think he could have been rather useful?"

"There were other perils in the world during those dark times, Ron; perhaps some of them were even more of a threat than Voldemort. Troy almost single-handedly kept those perils manageable. Needless to say, his unique talents were of dire use elsewhere."

"You taught me long ago that I should not judge people due to things beyond their control as well." Harry admitted, somewhat sheepishly, "It appears once again you were right. But considering what you just said, that means you must take this Disciple of Voldemort quite seriously to bring Troy here."

"I do… him and the strange group of wizards that seem to be aligned with him." Dumbledore said. He held up a ragged scrap of a wizard's robe, torn by hands and teeth and caked with blood. The three instantly recognized it as some of what little remained of the dark wizard Andromeda. Half of the unusual crimson emblem was visible, and clearly that had been what Dumbledore took interest in.

"I have been asking around most of this day, trying to find any information at all about any wizard group that carries this insignia. To my surprise, my rather extensive list of contacts came up with nothing."

"A new cult of sorts, perhaps?" Hermione asked.

"That was my first instinct, yes." Dumbledore said, "But it was the things that Andromeda had said that made me begin to wonder. She seemed to have intimate knowledge of cambions, and Troy in particular, things she would not know unless she or someone else had been observing him for a good long time."

"So, you now think that this cult has been established for some time, and have managed to keep out of sight for this long?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore said grimly. "Which disturbs me most of all. I have come to learn that any group that takes such pains to remain out of even the most trained of eyes does not suddenly emerge unless whatever plans they are hatching are perilously near to completion."

"Like gathering an army that even Voldemort would envy and again laying siege to the wizarding world?" Ron asked.

"Perhaps… but this is where the web of intrigue begins to weave." Dumbledore corrected. "If conquest was their plan, then why remain so secretive even now as their army has gathered such great numbers? No, I fear that this is merely part of their plan."

"A plan we need to discover, and quickly." Harry said firmly. "However, Christmas is tomorrow, and I suspect we will all need our sleep so that we can be ready for the remaining students when they invariably wake up hours before dawn."

Ron found himself stifling back a yawn at the suggestion. "Who would have thought just reading some books would take so much out of a person?"

"Had you actually read books as a student, you would." Hermione shot back, her facial expression not entirely humorous. "Nonetheless, I suppose Harry is correct. No sense being half dead while the students are bouncing off the walls."

First Ron, then Hermione filtered down the office stairs, but just before Harry was about to do the same, he stopped, and turned back to the headmaster. "Forgive me if I'm prying… but I am rather curious about something."

Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted, and he remarked, "Well, since you are not a cat, I doubt your curiosity will be fatal, but nonetheless I am here to answer whatever questions you might have."

"In your memories… Troy claimed you were searching for something, and that you felt he might help you find whatever you were looking for. If I may be so bold to ask… what were you looking for?"

Dumbledore smiled wanly, as if torn between reluctance to discuss whatever was on his mind, and a desire to finally talk about it. After a short silence, it appeared the latter won out. "We are born… we live… and we die. I suspect you understand this more keenly than most."

Harry nodded.

"But… what lies beyond this fragile and finite life we live? Do you know? Surely you've given it some thought; about where your mother and father are at this moment, or if they are anywhere at all. Surely your mind drifts to Sirius, or Cedric, or Neville… what is the result of their sacrifices? Is there something waiting for them? Or is death merely a precipice to a void in which everything is obliterated, never to be known again?"

Harry was silent, deciding the question was more rhetorical than anything else. Dumbledore should know well that he had thought of those things.

"You see, Harry… my parents also died when I was at a young age." Dumbledore said sadly, "Granted, not nearly as young as you were… but the principle is the same. After my schooling was completed… I had to know. I had to know if there was something more to this life… something that I could look forward to… somewhere that I could meet them again."

"So, why study cambions, then?"

"They were something tangible, something that could perhaps prove to me what I had hoped for. That they knew something about the fate that we face when we pass on."

"Did they?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "I never could really say. The few cambions I managed to approach for any protracted period of time were loathe to speak of their origins, and perhaps understandably so. Troy appears to have been one of the few cambions born here, and thus has no knowledge of the other planes of existence. Yet, coming to know him helped me reach one important conclusion nevertheless."

Harry raised his eyebrows, now genuinely curious. "What would that be?"

"Life is too short to waste worrying about what comes next. You should be concerned with the life you have, and making it as good for yourself and for others as you can. Our fight is here… the rest will take care of itself."

Harry again was silent, mulling over whether or not to press the issue. Finally, he said, "Have a merry Christmas, Albus. Good night." He then turned about, and left the office.