AN: Please enjoy, and please continue to review! They really keep me going.
"So this is hell. I'd never have believed it. You remember all we were told about the torture-chambers, the fire and brimstone, the 'burning marl.' Old wives' tales! There's no need for red-hot pokers. Hell is—other people!"
― Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit (April 1944)
It had now been a full week since Harry had swapped bodies with Dumbledore. For the thousandth time, Harry wondered if they were stuck in a dream together. Perhaps some of Fred and George's Patented Day Dream Charms were causing an intensely vivid lucid dream shared by two people? Whatever the cause, the only thing to do about it was to march onward.
They were still no closer to identifying the root cause of the phenomenon, or knowing how it could be fixed. But there was plenty to do in regards to destroying Voldemort in the meanwhile.
Specifically, hunting horcruxes.
As they arrived via Fawkes into the dreadful town of Little Hangleton, Dumbledore muttered something about the prophecy hanging over them like the perpetual sword of Damocles. Harry didn't know much about Damocles' sword, but he was pretty good at wielding Gryffindor's, in his very humble opinion. Harry held Gryffindor's sword in his left hand, wand aloft in his right as his eyes scanned the environment.
Harry looked over at the graveyard and grimaced.
("Harry. Take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my father.")
Fawkes sang a soothing, peaceful tune and Harry sighed a breath of relief as they walked in the opposite direction.
They stopped in front of the Gaunt shack that Harry had seen in Bob Ogden's memories.
"Once more unto the breach?" asked Harry with a weak smile.
Dumbledore reached up to put a hand on his shoulder, face very grave. "You'll have to put on your cloak to cross some of those wards unscathed. I implore you, Harry, to be very careful. Do not touch anything."
As Dumbledore cleared the way for them, Harry followed, invisible.
The terror wards plagued them as Dumbledore fought his way through all of Voldemort's traps. One trap had Dumbledore fighting a swarm of locusts and an undead pharaoh; another required defeating a demonic snake with supernatural abilities; a third forced them to confront a Night Mare, a creature of psychological horror which made a boggart look like child's play. All of these traps Dumbledore was more than able to take on, and his newfound parseltongue abilities only aided.
Finally, they came to a room which must have once been a kitchen. Dumbledore paused in his search, reaching to lift a plank of wood in the middle of the floor. As he pulled out a box, a great cloud of dust rose. He opened it and gasped upon seeing the ring inside.
Harry didn't know how he could have missed the horcrux before. It absolutely radiated dark magic, the air around it pulsing in vicious waves that made him feel distinctly ill.
Dumbledore ignored the utter malice and filth coming from the ring and reached toward it.
Harry threw himself against the Headmaster and knocked the ring out of his reach. Harry thought very briefly of how he had vanquished Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets, and then immediately stabbed the ring with the sword of Gryffindor. He listened with satisfaction to the wretched, dying shriek that the soul fragment gave.
The ground began to quake, as a cascade of wards rebelled and sought to trap them following the destruction of the horcrux.
Harry grabbed hold of the very distraught Dumbledore, and Fawkes brought them back to Hogwarts immediately.
They slammed into the hard, stone floor of Dumbledore's office, and both lay upon it panting, utterly magically exhausted and thrumming with adrenaline from their close brush with death.
Harry stood to his feet with great effort, wand in hand as he threw his cloak over his shoulder.
Harry tried to resist the urge to scold Dumbledore, but as was becoming more regular, completely failed in the attempt. "And you wanted to go alone." He scoffed. "Professor, why would you try to put this on?" He held up the hideous ring in the light. It was cracked. "Surely you knew it was cursed?"
He felt a sliver of sympathy for Dumbledore, however, as something in the ring seemed to call to him too…
Dumbledore might have been good at hiding his facial expressions while in his own body, but he had horrible control over Harry's. Harry immediately knew Dumbledore was going to try and change the subject, if not outright lie.
"If you lie to me," Harry said patiently, trying to impress upon Dumbledore his utter seriousness, "I will shave your beard. Then I will write Voldemort a love letter in your handwriting and magical signature. Then I will write Grindelwald a love letter in your-"
"The Deathly Hallows!" said Dumbledore, looking scandalized and somewhat impressed by Harry's threats. "And please, Harry, respect an old man's bodily autonomy. Shave my beard, oh goodness!"
"The what?" asked Harry, just as he slid on the ring.
Dumbledore gaped as Harry stood before him and in an instance, the world shifted, and Harry could see through Dumbledore's eyes:
("With or without you, I'd burn their world, Albus.")
Dumbledore watched as another stood before him, wielding wand and cloak and stone. How long had he dreamed of holding all three hallows? And now there was Harry in his stead, standing before him in the very picture of one of his greatest youthful dreams finally achieved - Albus Dumbledore with all three hallows in his grasp.
Just as abruptly, the foreign thoughts vanished from Harry's head.
"What was that? What are hallows?" said Harry, frowning at the great sadness and respect in the Headmaster's gaze. He knelt beside Dumbledore, suddenly worried he had missed an injury or a curse. "Professor, are you alright?"
Dumbledore merely closed his eyes. "I once had a sister…"
Harry stared up at the Austrian Alps, at the prison clinging to the edge of a mountain.
The air was ice-cold and he could see his breath dance across the frozen landscape.
For the Greater Good was carved in dark, ominous letters across the bleak entrance of Nurmengard. The castle was a fortress, its tallest spire disappearing into nearly black storm clouds.
("You were committed to me. To us.")
"Are you sure about this, Professor?" asked Harry, eyeing Nurmengard warily.
Dumbledore grimaced. "Unfortunately, needs must. If any being were to have knowledge of a potential remedy for our current situation, besides Tom, it would be Gellert."
"And how lucky we are to have another Dark Lord to consult on our case…" said Harry with a wisp of amusement, not unkindly.
Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle at Harry's attempt at humor, but Harry could tell he looked troubled.
They both walked to the black gates, where Harry could see a slim building connected to the spire. Dumbledore gestured to Harry, and as instructed, Harry tapped the gates with his wand briefly and announced themselves to Nurmengard: "Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore to see Gellert Grindelwald."
The gates seemed to shudder hugely and whine before opening just enough to let two people pass. Together, they stepped through the threshold and into the prison itself. Over his shoulder, Harry could see Dumbledore moving slowly, as though reluctant to proceed with any part of this plan.
A magnificent, tall, bald witch with violet eyes was there to greet them. Her white teeth were sharp and with her tall, dragon-hide boots, leather robes, and ebony wand, she cut an intimidating figure.
"Madame Meyer," said Harry, remembering Dumbledore's coaching. "Thank you for receiving us at such short notice, and for granting our request."
"Please, Dumbledore," said Madame Meyer with a charming yet dangerous smile. For a moment, Harry thought of how Sirius would have loved to know such a woman, and his heart ached. "Call me Carmen," she continued, "And it's the least we can do to allow your visit, considering your role in Grindelwald's incarceration. Rather curious that this is the first visit of you to him since his defeat."
"Carmen," allowed Harry, ignoring the last part of her sentence. "Please meet my apprentice, Harry James Potter."
"How do you do?" greeted Dumbledore politely, as Carmen gave him a once-over.
She tilted her head, considering him. "You spoke well at the ICW conference." Carmen met Dumbledore's eyes briefly, seeming somewhat endeared by the teenager she saw, before turning with a wry smile to Harry. "It's obvious to anyone who listened with half an ear that you've shaped this young man, and from what Minister Ramsey and Ambassador Presley said about the erumpent horn incident, to the benefit of us all."
Harry grinned. "And what says Representative Washington?"
Carmen threw her head back and laughed loudly, the sound of it echoing throughout the stark gray courtyard. "Ramsey mentioned you're a riot, Dumbledore, but I'll admit, I didn't believe her." She clapped her hands together, an action which lit the path from the courtyard to the door. "Now that the niceties are over with, we shall proceed with the security checks. And a word of warning – Gellert Grindelwald may not appear as such, but he remains the most dangerous prisoner in the world. Just last week, a guard lost an arm to a trick Grindelwald played."
Dumbledore frowned. "How is that possible?"
"His magic may be lost to him in his cell, but his silver tongue works as well as ever. He convinced the guard to cast what the guard thought would be a power-increasing spell, and instead it turned on him and began to eat his flesh." Carmen shrugged in a way that said what can you do?
Harry stared at her in disbelief.
Dumbledore sighed and merely said, "Forewarned is forearmed. Thank you, Carmen."
Once past security, Harry and Dumbledore walked up the spire stairs slowly, guided by the magic of Nurmengard itself, which manifested as an eerie shadow of a humanoid figure, slowly walking ahead of them.
They finally came to the top, and the disembodied shadow re-attached itself to the wall, watching them as they passed. For the life of him, Harry could not say why, but the tune that Xenophilius Lovegood sang at the Ministry was stuck in his head. As a means to lessen his anxiety, Harry whistled it as they walked: do de do de do de do de do do do.
"Is that 'Bella Ciao?'" a raspy voice called forth, out of sight. "Because it's in poor taste, if so."
As they rounded the corner, the figure of Gellert Grindelwald came into view. Only his eyes were alive, and they burned. He was skeletal, and filthy, and wretched, and the thought that coursed through Harry upon looking at him was: what a waste.
Harry took a step back in horror, a motion which the former Dark Lord seem to revel in. "Can't bear the sight of the hell you've condemned me to, old friend?"
"Old wives' tales. There's no need for red-hot pokers,'" said Dumbledore softly, drawing Grindelwald's attention, and it sounded to Harry as though he were quoting someone. Dumbledore waited.
Grindelwald picked up where he left off. "'There's no need for red-hot pokers…. Hell is—other people.'" His blue eyes were jutting sharply out of his skull, cruel but also curious. They cut across the air between Harry and Dumbledore twice rapidly before settling on Dumbledore.
Grindelwald laughed before it turned into a cough and Harry felt a sense of growing dread.
Grindelwald gave a wicked grin, displaying yellowed and untreated teeth, as he looked at the body of the Boy Who Lived. "Sartre was a bastard. But darling, you have bigger worries. Metempsychosis? Transmigration? That's a new one, Albus."
Dumbledore raised his wand, and drew complicated patterns in the air that coalesced into glowing chains. They floated through the bar of Grindelwald's cell, and before the old wizard could move, wrapped themselves around his throat and sank beneath his skin. "Lovely to see you as well," said Dumbledore in a voice so pleasant it could hardly be genuine.
"Oh, a Sumerian curse of silence. Absolutely vicious, Albus. You're getting saucy in your old age."
"One musn't be too careful, even among… friends."
Grindelwald's lip curled before a manic fury seemed to overtake him. "Do not speakto me about betrayal."
Dumbledore stared him down with Harry's green, green eyes, and did not flinch. "From you, I learned that love isn't enough." He did sit down in a flourish on the ice-cold floor to level their gazes. "But that does not mean doing the right thing did not pain me."
"We have some questions," Harry said before he could stop himself, almost at his wit's end with the amount of subtext and history he was missing in this conversation.
Grindelwald panted with exertion that showed just how dearly his shouting had cost him. "Fine," he spat. Then, more calmly, as though remembering he used to be dignified, "Fine. But I do expect payment in exchange for my consulting services."
"Naturally," said Dumbledore in a far cooler manner. "If your consultation yields a true solution, we will do what we can, within reason."
"Coffee now, and a favor for later."
"Coffee?" asked Harry, surprised by the simple request.
"Only if I have shed this mortal coil," said Dumbledore at the same time, which Harry took to mean, over my dead body, you son of a bitch.
"My relationship with coffee is almost as loving, volatile, and destructive as my relationship with Albus," said Grindelwald, eyeing Dumbledore in a way that made Harry feel violated even from his vantage point.
"Look," said Harry with growing impatience. "Do you, or do you not know how to fix us?"
"Why would you want to be fixed?" asked Grindelwald incredulously, looking to Dumbledore. "Albus, you've just extended your lifetime by another two hundred years, should you survive that upstart Dark Lord. Enslave the boy's will, and you shall keep the hold you have in the British Ministry while becoming the wizarding world's symbol and rallying point for the next generation. Do not insult me and the fates which have so clearly blessed you by refusing to capitalize on this opportunity."
Harry, to whom it never occurred that Dumbledore would not want to switch back, began to sweat in fear.
"I refuse," said Dumbledore, but it was not an instant, unthinking response. It was deliberate and firm, as though the option had indeed crossed his mind long ago and had been forcefully dismissed.
For a long moment, Harry only heard the sounds of his heartbeat in his ears.
"Bah!" said Grindelwald eventually, not looking too disappointed by Dumbledore's decision. "The more things change; the more things stay the same. Coffee. Then, we discuss how you managed to piss off someone who's perverted a Vedic doctrine ritual intended to elicit a pleasant stay in heaven after death." He smirked over at Harry. "I would start by cross-referencing Essence of Quintessence with The Vedic Origins of Karma…. But the last I read of true transmigration belonged to the Black's family grimoire. How fares Arcturus?"
Back at Hogwarts, Harry's head was spinning, but he could only imagine how Albus was feeling. He shuffled closer to him and placed a hand on Albus' shoulder. "Albus, are you okay?"
"I feel a bit under the weather, truthfully, Harry. I woefully underestimated the toll that seeing Gellert would take on my stress level."
"We'll get you some soup," said Harry as he guided Albus to the Headmaster's chair. "It'll all be okay, Albus, you did great. We know where to go next from here."
"Thank you, Harry. How lucky I am to have you as a friend."
If Harry could not speak due to being overcome with emotion, then that was his burden to bear. He conjured the softest blanket he could imagine and placed it carefully over Albus' shoulders.
Just as Harry was about to call for a house elf, the office door burst open.
"Good afternoon, Severus," said Albus from his place behind the Headmaster's desk.
Harry turned.
Admittedly, it was not ideal to have Snape walk in at that moment.
The Potions Master took one look at what appeared to be Harry sitting on the Headmaster's chair, while Albus sat across from him like a student in trouble, before Snape's sallow face turned an apoplectic red.
"Headmaster," seethed Snape, looking at Harry with outrage. "Surely you cannot allow this! The sheer arrogance of this spoiled, imbecile. Sitting in your chair, feet on the desk. One hundred points, no, two hundred—"
"Merlin, would you just stop shouting? Besides, it's summer," interrupted Harry, the exhaustion and stress he was under causing his eyes to burn. "It's been—It's been a long week."
There was an unholy gleam in Snape's eyes, but his mouth snapped shut. When he spoke again, his voice was a promise of pain. "Forgive me. As you say, Headmaster, there shall be no shouting from my end. Or shall I call you my Lord as well?"
Both he and Albus flinched noticeably, much to Snape's visible satisfaction.
"My apologies…Severus…" said Harry, and it was like swallowing glass. "What brings you here?"
Snape looked at Albus pointedly, then back to Harry. "I have an update."
After exchanging a glance with Albus, Harry raised one hand to stifle any protest and said, "Whatever you have to report to me, you may say in front of Harry."
"Very well," said Snape, looking just as reluctant to share with Harry as Harry had been in apologizing moments earlier. He sent a scathing glare to Albus.
"Draco has been recovering from magical exhaustion for the past week. There is no sign of improvement, and Narcissa is frantic with worry, as her son refuses to disclose the cause. I suspect it may stem from a failed attempt at his mission," said Snape, still retaining the whole of the truth. "All I managed to find was that the ritual room in Malfoy Manor had been used recently."
Harry, beyond exhausted with the charade, close to tears with the stress of it all, said unwisely, "Malfoy's a Death Eater?!"
Suddenly Snape's wand was out and his eyes were narrowed in suspicion. "What, pray tell," he said in a soft, malicious voice that reminded Harry he was a Death Eater too, "is going on here?"
Albus rose from his chair and grinned at Snape with true cheer. "It appears the jig is up, then. Severus, there's been some sort of transmigration fiasco. Somehow I am Harry, and Harry is me."
Harry also smiled back at Snape. His was not a nice smile.
"Harry Potter is walking around in Albus Dumbledore's body," said Snape dazedly, as though wondering what to make of this particular revelation. "What the fuck."
Horror morphed into rage. "The fuck. POTTER!"