What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is
Disclaimer All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.
Summary: Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!
A/N: Hopefully your patience will pay off for all of you this chapter! As always, many thanks to my reviewers: Quill of Minerva, Nightwing 509, mugglemin, Lou. McGonagall, Aurinko, and Joelpup62! I am happy that I am providing you all with a story that keeps you coming back for more!
Chapter Five: What Might Have Been
After Voldemort's first success of breaking into Harry's dreams, life quieted down significantly. Harry attended classes, kept a watchful eye on Malfoy, continued his chats with Professor Dumbledore, and of course played quidditch. The first match of that season had taken place at the start of November and had been a completely one-sided affair. Ravenclaw had played well, but Gryffindor's playing ability was clearly superior.
The end of November had brought Slytherins first opportunity to prove themselves under the captaincy of one Draco Malfoy. It was no surprise when they had defeated Hufflepuff, but as Ron pointed out, there was always the chance Crabbe or Goyle would confuse Malfoy's head as a bludger in a team practice.
"I can dream can't I?" Ron said laughing at his own joke. Harry chuckled along with his best friend. Sharing the captain duties with Ron had been a wonderful experience for Harry.
As the end of term approached, many students began to talk excitedly about their holiday plans. It was the first time in his years at Hogwarts that Harry did not know what to do for the break. Normally he would have stayed at the castle happily with no regrets. But seeing as his Aunt Petunia had offered an olive branch at the start of term, Harry sort of felt he owed it to her to come back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Harry shared his concerns with his two closest friends.
"What do you think I should do?" Harry asked after explaining the situation to them. To say Ron was less than helpful would be an enormous understatement. He simply stared at Harry with a glossy expression and mouth agape. Apparently advice on matters of estranged relatives was beyond him.
"Do you really want to go to Privet Drive for Christmas?" Hermione asked shoving Ron off of the couch to awaken him from his stupor.
"Well, no," Harry admitted.
"Then don't," advised Hermione. "Because even though you've made peace with your aunt I am assuming your uncle would still be considerably less than thrilled."
Harry laughed, "You could say that."
"I guess I would just write her a nice letter to let her know you are thinking of her. She'd understand why you wouldn't actually go home," Hermione added.
"Thanks Hermione, I could kiss you!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and Ron looked mortified. "But I won't," Harry said sheepishly upon seeing their faces. An awkward moment of silence passed between the three of them before one by one they began to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
Harry retreated to his dormitory to write his Christmas letter to Aunt Petunia. He was unsure as to how to begin. Harry, deciding the direct approach was best, let all he was feeling flow onto the parchment. Occasionally he would become dissatisfied by what he had written and crumple up the letter and begin anew. Once the letter was finally finished Harry reread it a couple of times to make sure it was worded just right. Satisfied he grabbed the letter and his invisibility cloak. Harry descended the dormitory steps and entered the common room. Ron and Hermione were still sitting on the couch together. They were speaking in hushed tones and jumped in surprise when they saw Harry had returned.
"I'm going to the owlery," Harry stated eyeing his friends suspiciously. "Are you two okay? You're acting really odd." Hermione blushed so severely she matched Ron's hair.
"We're f-fine," Ron stuttered. His eyes were darting around the room as if searching for a change of subject. "Why are you t-taking your c-cloak?" he squeaked.
"I guess I don't want to have to worry about running into anyone," Harry shrugged. With that Harry turned and exited the portrait hole as he covered himself in the cloak. The walk to the owlery was a quiet one. Harry spent the journey considering his two friends. They were acting stranger than they were admitting. Harry thought about all he had observed the last few days. It seemed Ron and Hermione had spent a lot of time together. Even more than usual. Harry also realized how much Hermione seemed to blush these days. It's like they're keeping something from me, Harry thought.
Harry ascended the stone steps to the owlery and was greeted by the soft sounds of hundreds of hooting owls. Harry searched the rafters for Hedwig. This took awhile as there were so many owls. "Hedwig!" Harry called after spotting her nestled between two of the school's large barn owls. Hedwig glided gracefully down and perched upon Harry's shoulder. She nipped his ear affectionately and stuck out her leg awaiting the letter she knew she would be delivering. "I've got a very important job for you, Hedwig," Harry explained to her. Hedwig hooted in a dignified manner as Harry tied Petunia's letter to the snowy owl's leg. "Give this to Aunt Petunia for me, but make sure she is by herself when you deliver it. Uncle Vernon can't be around, okay?" Hedwig nipped his ear again and soared out of the window into the night.
Christmas morning Harry was awoken by someone's pillow hitting him in the face. Harry flung his hands out defensively. His brain was too groggy from sleep to take in what was going on around him or even what day it was.
"Harry!" yelled an amused voice. "Harry! Oy! Presents!" That did it. Harry's eyes snapped open and a broadly grinning Ron was tearing into the mountain of packages at the end of his bed. Harry looked to the foot of his own bed to see his own, but slightly smaller, pile.
Harry loved Christmas. It wasn't the presents, though those were a nice bonus. It was the one time of the year that Harry always knew that people were without a doubt thinking of him. It warmed his heart and made him smile. Harry had received his annual Weasley sweater from Mrs. Weasley as well as a dozen homemade mice pies. The sweater this year was a handsome, dark blue. Hermione had given him a box of Chocolate Frogs and a pair of quidditch goggles that he could wear over his glasses to keep out the elements. A large poster showing all of the quidditch teams of England came from Ron. Harry eyed it enthusiastically. Like all posters, pictures, and paintings in the wizarding world, the figures moved around trying to demonstrate their prowess. Occasionally the players from opposing teams would call soundlessly to one another as if bragging about their skills. Harry laughed as he watched the Chudley Cannons team puff out their chests indignantly.
"I don't believe it," Harry heard Ron gasp.
"What?" Harry asked bewildered.
Ron held his own new sweater in front of him, "It's not maroon! Mum must have switched it with someone else's by mistake." Harry laughed. For the first time in six Christmases at Hogwarts Ron had not received a maroon sweater. By some miracle Mrs. Weasley must have finally realized that Ron hated maroon. Now he could proudly wear his deep green sweater. Harry laughed again as Ron pulled it over his head.
At that moment Hermione came striding into the boys' dormitory cradling Crookshanks to her. She was also wearing a Weasley sweater. Hers was a light powder blue and was actually quite pretty. "Happy Christmas!" she called.
"Wow," Ron said his eyes wide. "Mum made you a sweater too this year. It...uh...it really sets off your eyes."
Did Ron just say what I think he just said? Harry thought to himself as Hermione blushed yet again. "Okay!" Harry yelled exasperatedly. Ron and Hermione both startled. "I know something is up! What is with you guys?" Hermione glanced at Ron uneasily. She joined him on his bed and Ron just shrugged his shoulders at her imploring look.
"Alright," Hermione said at last. "We'll tell you Harry. Well, we, er, we've been acting strange because, hmmm..." She seemed unable to find the right words.
"We're together, mate," Ron finished for her. "We didn't know how you'd react, so we didn't say anything." Harry felt his jaw drop. Ron and Hermione? His two best friends were a couple? How had he not noticed?
"Th-that's g-great," Harry stammered. "I mean, wow!" Harry did his best to sound happy about this development, but in truth he was unsure as to what he really thought. Hermione beamed at him as Ron enclosed her hand in his own. "I'm really happy for you guys!" Harry announced, again trying to sound sincere.
Hermione rose from Ron's side and gave Harry a hug. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm going to go change for lunch. See you in a minute?" Both boys nodded as she left the room.
Harry watched her go with an odd sense of confusion rattling his brain. That sweater really does set off her eyes, Harry thought, but he quickly mentally slapped himself afterward. Harry turned to face Ron digging through his package of sweets and pranks from Fred and George. "So, you and Hermione, huh?" Harry said at last.
"Yep," Ron replied. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"
"Oh absolutely," Harry responded trying to sound cheery. Yet something continued to gnaw at Harry's insides.
The Great Hall was decked out in grand style as usual. The twelve Christmas trees were decorated magnificently and snow fell from the enchanted ceiling, but dissipated before reaching the heads of the hall's occupants. Because so few students had stayed behind for the holiday break only one long table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, clad in their new Weasley sweaters, were apparently the last ones to arrive as every seat around the table save three were filled. The trio took their seats as the mouth-watering smells of a wide array of dishes began to overtake them. Harry glanced toward the end of the table where the professors were all sitting. He made eye contact with Hagrid and warmly smiled.
"Happy Christmas yeh three!" Hagrid called waving so boisterously that he knocked over Professor McGonagall's goblet. The goblet's contents spread out like a red blanket over the white table cloth as McGonagall flashed Hagrid a reproving glare.
"Allow me, my dear," Professor Dumbledore said trying to diffuse any argument. With a flick of his wand the tablecloth was returned to its original pristine condition.
After many succulent courses of stews, soufflés, and casseroles galore, Harry's stomach was fit to bursting when the dessert course appeared on the table. Harry glanced at Ron who was clutching his own stomach with an expression of agony on his face. Though he readily dug into a pudding before him. Hermione was peering at Ron with a mix of disgust and adoration on her face. Perhaps it was the knowledge he would pay for his gluttony later that offered a sense of grim satisfaction.
Following the feast the three made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady was celebrating Christmas in her own way with visitors from other portraits. She had what looked suspiciously like a bottle of brandy in her hand and was swaying and singing joyously with her painted friends.
"Narro Veritas!" Hermione said shaking her head.
"Same, hic, to you, hic!" The Fat Lady replied swinging open to allow their admittance to the common room.
The afternoon flew by. Many games of Exploding Snap, Gobstones, and Wizarding Chess led to an evening of the trio simply sitting around the fire talking happily about the gifts they had received that morning. They were so involved in the discussion that they had not realized that the portrait hole had opened once more to yield a newcomer to the comfy atmosphere.
"Well, well," said an amused voice, "I surely thought I'd have to break up some wild bash knowing you three." All three students whipped around to see Professor McGonagall with an uncharacteristic grin gracing her normally thin lips. Hermione had uttered a small gasp of surprise when the professor spoke and she quickly withdrew her hand from Ron's.
"Er, something we can do for you, Professor?" Harry asked uncertainly.
"No, nothing, Mr. Potter," McGonagall chuckled at her students. "I just did not have the opportunity to speak to you properly at the Christmas feast this afternoon." The professor moved toward the fire and sat down on a chair opposite her young charges. "I merely wanted to wish you all a Happy Christmas."
"Well, thank you," Hermione said, being the first to snap out of the students' collective state of shock. "A Merry Christmas to you too."
"Thank you Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall replied. She seemed to be contemplating Ron and Hermione's proximity to one another, but said nothing. Ron shifted uneasily on the couch. Professor McGonagall evidently took note of this as she turned to speak to Ron. "So, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter here tells me you are quite the chess player."
"I guess so," Ron squeaked.
"Well, would you fancy a match?" McGonagall inquired.
"What?" Ron blurted. "Play you, Professor?"
"Well, if you don't want to that's fine, I just thought..." Professor McGonagall replied very quickly.
"No! It's not that," dodged Ron, "I was just surprised that you would want to play me. I figured surely you would prefer to play Professor Dumbledore or something."
"Normally I do play Professor Dumbledore, but seeing as he has not beaten me in about, oh..." McGonagall gazed at the ceiling calculating, "fifteen years, I thought I'd see if you are up to the challenge." Ron looked from Harry to Hermione with a curious expression.
"Sure," Ron said confidently. "I'll get my board."
"Excellent!" Professor McGonagall remarked happily clapping her hands together. "But I warn you, Mr. Weasley, I know that you defeated my transfigured chessboard years ago, but you will find the real me is a much more formidable opponent."
"I don't doubt that one bit," laughed Ron.
A tremendous battle ensued. McGonagall seemed deeply impressed by Ron's skill. He was able to match her stride for stride. Anytime the professor captured a piece, Ron countered with a capture of his own. Harry, though interested in the outcome of the match, found himself repeatedly distracted by Hermione. She would cheer Ron on, laugh at the banter between the players, and smile that oh so sweet smile of hers. The familiar unease began to rise in Harry's stomach again and he was once more flustered by its meaning.
"I think I'm going to bed," Harry announced suddenly. "I'm not feeling well."
"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked with a note of concern in her voice. "Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?"
"Oh, no, I just had too much to eat," Harry lied. He quickly ascended the stairs to his dormitory. Harry was unaware of changing into his pajamas that night, his mind was busy elsewhere. As he climbed into his four-poster and pulled the curtains tight around him, Harry pondered all that had taken place that day. Why did he feel uneasy all of a sudden whenever he looked at Hermione? True, she and Ron had announced their relationship to him, but Harry could hardly fail to notice that Hermione was a girl and would therefore eventually hook up with someone. Harry supposed he must simply have been caught off guard by the fact that Ron had become that someone.
Harry rolled over onto his side. He could not wipe the thoughts of his two friends from his brain. The fact that he could hear them occasionally laugh with Professor McGonagall down in the common room did not help matters. Harry began to consider his two friends and a smile spread across his face. He remembered meeting Ron on the Hogwarts Express. Harry recalled the bubbly redhead with the smudged nose and how it had been Hermione who had pointed that out. Oh what a snot they thought she was back then! She kind of still is, Harry thought with a smirk. But that was the Hermione he had grown to know. The Hermione with the bushy hair and far too large brain. The Hermione who would risk anything to help her friends. The Hermione who had invoked jealousy in Ron over Viktor Krum. The Hermione who put her life on the line to help him find Sirius. Hermione, the very thought of her now made Harry's stomach twist and turn.
In that moment a force like an electric surge forced its way through Harry's body. He shot upright in bed and slapped his hand to his forehead in realization. "I'm jealous," Harry whispered aloud. "I'm jealous of Ron!" Harry flopped back down onto his pillows. He could feel the words in his chest begging to erupt from his mouth. Quickly, Harry grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and pushed it hard over his own mouth as he yelled exasperatedly into the feather barrier, "I love Hermione!"
Harry awoke early the next morning, the epiphany he experienced the night before still hung heavily on the air. Harry worked his way down to the common room. The fire had died out, and Ron's chess set remained on the table where it had been used. Harry sat down and picked up one of the queens. He turned it over and over in his hands. The queen, what a fitting role it played in chess. She was a seemingly innocent piece, yet commanded the most influence on the board. Harry chuckled mirthlessly to himself as he compared his own life to the chessboard before him. Yes, Hermione's the queen, Ron the king, and I'm just the pawn," Harry thought painfully. Sounds of footfalls stirred Harry from his meditation. Harry quickly returned the chess piece in his hand to the board just as Ron entered the common room.
"Good morning, Ha-a-arry," Ron yawned.
"Morning,"Harry greeted. "So how'd the game turn out?" he asked nodding to the abandoned board.
"It was a draw!" Ron moaned. "Can you believe it? We played until three in the morning and it ended a draw!"
"Well, at least you can say that McGonagall didn't beat you," Harry mused.
"That's true," Ron admitted, "but next time I'm going to..."
But Harry did not listen to what Ron would try next time. His mind became preoccupied with Hermione. All Harry could do was nod anytime Ron paused in his analysis. He would just have to ignore his feelings, that was all there was to it. Yeah, Harry thought, good luck hopeless.
Pretty soon Harry was praying for the end of the break and when Gryffindor Tower would be filled with the sounds of laughter. Each day Harry was bombarded with the realization that he had wasted his time regarding Hermione. He had simply lost his chance with her. Harry new that his Gryffindor bravery did not exist when it came to admitting the truth of what he felt. How could he? Doing so would cause him to lose both Ron and Hermione's friendship. Those friendships were more important to him than any thoughts of what might have been.
Harry's reluctance was deeper than that, however. It started as an echo deep in the shallows of his brain. The echo grew unto it was nothing short of a dull roar overpowering Harry's every thought of his two friends.
"You will see me in the one's you hold dear. You will know when I strike them down and leave you a human wasteland."
Voldemort. Even if Harry was able to confess to Hermione how he felt, Voldemort would still be there. Could Harry live with himself if anything happened to her, or Ron, for that matter? Once again Harry felt smothered by a cloud of irony that subjugated how he could live his life. Professor Trelawney had been right those sixteen years ago. Neither could live, Harry felt that he certainly wasn't. His was half an existence. Would he be condemned to this fate until the end of his days? One thing was certain, Harry could never tell Hermione how he felt about her. Doing so would only jeopardize her safety.
Luckily Harry did not have time to dwell on these troubling thoughts. As Harry wished, the students returned to school for their new term. Hogwarts was busy and bustling again. Classes resumed and Harry poured everything he had into two things: his studies and quidditch. For awhile this worked extremely well to take Harry's mind off of Ron and Hermione's new found relationship. Ron and Hermione seemed to be helping Harry's refocus along as well. They were perfectly content with keeping their relationship a secret. For as openly loving as Harry had observed them at Christmas, their current behavior seemed almost distant. Ron and Hermione limited their expressions of affection to smiles and losing themselves in each other's eyes.
Yet even with the distraction of classes and quidditch practices, Harry could not chase one thought from his brain. He felt forever overwhelmed by the presence of Voldemort. The evil wizard had not yet showed himself to Harry as he claimed he would, but Harry felt ever wary. All the extra lessons and discussions with Professor Dumbledore seemed pointless now in Harry's estimation. He felt desperate, out of control. How can one prepare for the unknown and unforeseen? Sleep was quickly becoming an illusion as well. Harry was simply afraid to close his eyes. Harry had been fairly vigilant in keeping up with nightly Occlumency ritual, but that did not mean Voldemort had not attempted to invade his dreams anyway. Flashes of forced images or voices had tried to infuse with Harry's nighttime images, but so far Harry had kept them at bay. Yet Harry knew all too well that his increasing fatigue would make this much more difficult to withstand in the days ahead. He must get some rest, or he may find himself at the mercy of Voldemort's darkest illusions.
With that in mind that Harry found himself falling onto his bed on one of his free afternoons. Ron and Hermione had asked if he wanted to go to the library with them to research an essay for Professor Flitwick, but Harry had to decline. He was simply too exhausted to comprehend anything at the moment. Harry only kicked off his shoes before sliding wearily beneath the covers. His head barely made contact with the pillow before he succumbed to a deep slumber.
Harry was walking along the edge of the lake...The giant squid was basking in the sun...Before him Harry saw Ron and Hermione...He called out to them, but they did not hear him...They seemed to be gazing intently at something...Harry was at their side now...He called their names once more, but this time his voice soundly strange cold, very unlike his own...They still did not hear him...Harry turned to look at what they were peering at so intently...Harry felt a strong urge to panic envelope him, but his now high, cold voice was laughing...Harry pushed his way between Ron and Hermione...They were like air as he passed not between them, but rather through them...The sight on the ground took his breath away but the laughter continued...Harry was staring at himself...His body was lying in his own blood...Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione again...They still stared at Harry's body, but their expression were not sad or upset...They were indifferent...Indifferent to his death...Indifferent...Suddenly Hermione stiffened...Her face paled and she fell dead next to Harry's body...Harry quickly looked into Ron's eyes...He was still staring blankly before he too went rigid and collapsed dead onto the ground...Harry turned to his own corpse again and gasped...He was no longer there...Instead a pale white face with red, slit-like eyes faced him...The being touched his arm...His scar exploded with pain...
"You have done well to keep me out these last few weeks, Potter," Harry heard himself say as the pale entity mouthed wordlessly. "You cannot deny me forever. This is a glimpse of what I have in store for you. I also know that you care for her, Potter. Did you think she could ever love you back? I will not be denied my vengeance this time. You are already useless against me, boy! I will soon be rejoicing my victory and your demise. I shall look forward to our next meeting."
Harry awoke to find himself on the floor. His body felt on fire and he was tangled tightly in his bed coverings. He felt restrained, almost hysterical. His forehead was throbbing painfully as the sweat poured from his brow. He had to get up, he had to talk to Dumbledore. He needed Dumbledore. Harry staggered, his feet would not work properly. Ron and Hermione...
They were detached. It was all Harry could do to keep from vomiting. Ron and Hermione disinterested in his death? That wasn't right. Indifferent... It was a dream, a dream, only a dream, Harry thought.
"Potter!" someone yelled. Harry couldn't see, the pain in his scar was blurring his vision. "Potter?" they said again.
"Dumbledore," Harry whimpered. Harry could feel himself being steered along by someone. He did not know who it was, or where they were taking him. It was imperative that they understand. "Dumbledore," Harry whispered once more.
"Minerva?" It was a new voice.
"I found him like this. He was calling your name."
Harry could feel a pair of hands cradle his head. They were whispering soft words into his ear. Reluctantly the blinding pain was receding. Harry blinked heavily to force his eyes to focus. Harry took in the scene around him. He had made it to Dumbledore's office. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were there. The Headmaster was still holding his head comfortingly.
"Harry," Dumbledore said fearfully, "what happened to you?"
"Dream," Harry croaked fighting the urge to gag.
"You had another dream with Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded. Professor Dumbledore turned to the Deputy Headmistress, "Thank you, Minerva. I know you have a class." McGonagall peered into Harry's eyes. Harry was shocked at what he saw there. Was it pity? Dumbledore grabbed her arm. "He'll be fine," he said soothingly. At last she nodded and quietly left the office.
"Tell me what happened," Dumbledore ordered softly, guiding Harry to a chair.
"At first I was dreaming I was walking around the lake," stated Harry shakily. "I saw Ron and Hermione, but I don't think they could hear or see me. When I went up to them I saw that they were staring at a body on the ground."
"Who was it, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore implored.
"Me." Dumbledore nodded with understanding. "They were looking at me like they didn't care..." Harry trailed away.
"Harry, Voldemort is trying to plant seeds of distrust in your mind," Dumbledore explained. "You are smart enough to recognize the lies he will show you. Trust your instincts Harry, they will not fail you."
"He said he was giving me a glimpse of what was coming. Professor, they were dying around me." Harry did not reveal what Voldemort had said about Hermione loving him. It was too personal.
"I want you to listen to me very carefully," the Headmaster firmly replied. "It was a dream, Harry, nothing more. Do not believe what he showed you. Ron and Hermione did not die, they are most certainly still with us."
Harry sighed. He could feel the pain and anxiety finally leaving him. "Thank you, Sir," said Harry. It was then that Harry noticed that Professor Dumbledore seemed to be considering him searchingly.
"There is something more," Dumbledore prompted. "There is something else that is bothering you."
"N-no," Harry evaded uneasily. Harry knew this conversation could only lead to territory he would just as soon as avoid right now.
Dumbledore surveyed Harry for a few moments. He was seated with his hands together, fingers resting on his lips. Harry realized he was trying to determine what that something more really was. The silence was becoming increasingly uncomfortable before Dumbledore finally broke it. "Why so miserable, Harry?" he asked imploringly.
Harry new exactly why he felt so miserable, but it was not something he considered sharing with his Headmaster. "Um...I'm just worried about...about...what might happen with Voldemort," he lied. Harry knew he had sounded less than convincing.
"You have feelings for someone and are afraid to express them," Dumbledore surmised sagely.
Harry was taken quite aback by this response. It's like he can read my mind. Harry thought. Of course he can, stupid, he's a Legilimens. Harry resigned himself to the fact that Dumbledore knew him too well and sat down. He cradled his head in his hands. He had not wanted Dumbledore to know those feelings. Suddenly, feeling affronted, Harry turned a fierce gaze to the man before him. "I don't want you reading my mind like that!" Harry yelled. "Voldemort is always trying to get in my head, so I don't need that from you too!" His anger vented, Harry was relieved that he had at least remained in enough control to stay seated.
A hint of a smile began to tug at the corners of Dumbledore's mouth, "I did not look into you mind with Legilimens. As I have said before, I would not dream of invading your privacy like that."
"Th-then," Harry stuttered, "how did you know?"
"I have seen that look far too many times not to know," He explained. "Are you afraid Miss Granger will not return your affections? Or per chance, is there something else?"
Harry never thought he would have a conversation like this with anyone, let alone the most powerful wizard in the world. "It's both really. Hang on," Harry faltered, "how do you know I like Hermione?"
"Relax, dear boy," Dumbledore chuckled. "Anyone who has ever been in love has looked the way you do when Miss Granger is around." He continued to smile for a few moments. The smile faded as he continued. "Harry, it is up to you whether you choose to heed my advice, but understand this: you will remain miserable until either you tell her how you feel, or you move on. I have a hunch that it will not be the latter."
"But she's with Ron," Harry blurted out looking even more downtrodden, "and I'm happy for them. I really am."
"I believe you, Harry," Dumbledore stated. "However, my advice remains the same."
"You want me to break up my two best friends?" Harry gasped appalled.
Dumbledore held up his hand to silence him. "Of course not. I would never suggest any friend to become between the happiness of others, but I am convinced that there is more than Mr. Weasley that has kept you from expressing your feelings."
Harry rose slowly and walked to the window. He stared down at the lawn. Students were walking across it seemingly without a care in the world. They were talking and laughing and it was unfair in Harry's mind that he had to be burdened with this internal struggle; this fate. "You know the prophecy, Professor," he finally replied. "And you also know, as I do, that Voldemort will use any means to destroy me..." His voice had trailed away softly and Harry found great difficulty in resurrecting it. His voice sounded tinny in his own ears, not at all like himself. "I cannot tell Hermione how I feel because Voldemort could hurt her in order to hurt me. He knows about her, Professor. Even if it wasn't Hermione, I can't ever be close to anyone, not as long as Voldemort survives. Don't you understand?" he bellowed wheeling around to face Dumbledore again, his anger rising. "I could never put her in danger, not if I really love her."
Dumbledore had risen without Harry's knowledge and had been making his way to the window as well. He placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder when he spoke, "I think you are absolutely right about Voldemort. He will try to harm anyone close to you, but there is no guarantee that he will." The old man paused to allow Harry to take in his words before continuing. "Harry, do you remember what I told you when I found you gazing at your mother and father in the Mirror of Erised?"
"Yes," Harry answered. "You said that it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, but what does that got to do with anything?"
"Everything," Professor Dumbledore replied. "Harry, I still believe that, but the opposite also holds true! Do not dwell so much on life, so to speak, that you forget to dream!"
"I can't! I won't!" Harry shouted swatting away Dumbledore's arm. "I won't put her in danger! I can't expose her to Voldemort's whims!" Harry could feel himself seething. How could Dumbledore expect him to endanger Hermione just to make himself happy?
Professor Dumbledore took a step forward. "Harry, I understand how you feel, but please consider this. I beg you not to surrender your future happiness based on what might happen!"
Harry's anger had reached a boiling point, "YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW I FEEL!"
"Yes, I do," Dumbledore responded quietly and thoughtfully.
"Can I ask you something, Sir?" Harry asked sarcastically, though he did not wait for a reply. "Have you ever been married?"
The Headmaster's eyebrows raised sharply. Clearly he had been deeply surprised by the question. "Well, no," he answered.
"Then, with all due respect," Harry continued viciously, "how can you possibly know how I feel?" Harry immediately regretted his outburst. Dumbledore's mouth slowly fell open. His expression was of the utmost despair and Harry felt the guilt quickly wash over him. Dumbledore did not respond right away. Instead he turned to look out the window as Harry had done and interlaced his fingers behind his back.
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. He silently berated himself for being so heartless. After all, wasn't Dumbledore just trying to help him? Harry sank back down in his vacated seat and tried to think how he could possibly rectify the situation. "Listen, Sir, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"My heart, my life, my soul...she has the key to them all," Dumbledore whispered.
"What?" Harry asked trying to sound as less insensitive as possible.
Continuing to gaze from the window Dumbledore responded, "A muggle said that. 'My heart, my life, my soul...she has the key to them all'. Funny thing really."
"I'm sorry, I still don't understand Professor," Harry implored quietly.
Dumbledore spoke so softly that Harry had to strain to hear him. "There is a woman out there that I loved..." He trailed away. It was clear to Harry that this was quite difficult for Dumbledore. "She always did hold the keys to my heart, life, and soul, and still does. It is funny now that you should deal with the same situation that began in me fifty years ago."
Harry was no closer to understanding where Dumbledore was headed, but thought it best not to interrupt. The older man was utterly lost in his memory with only an occasional whisper too quiet for Harry to hear escaping his lips. "Harry, when I was a much younger man," he began finally, "I fell in love with a wonderfully charming, young woman who had been a former student of mine. Though I was much older than her, she made me feel special. She also made it clear that the age difference meant nothing to her. Minerva..."
"...McGonagall?" Harry gasped flabbergasted.
"Kavanagh, actually," Dumbledore answered. "Minerva reminded me what it was to be young. However, what she gave me was much more important." The professor finally smiled again as he caught a glimpse of Harry's imploring look. "She showed me what it was to be truly in love and to be truly loved by another so much that the individuals cease to exist and the two become one."
Dumbledore returned his gaze to the open window and Harry could see the hint of regret creep onto the professor's face. "It wasn't to be, however," he said sadly.
"Why not?" Harry asked sympathetically.
"Because the day I planned to propose to Minerva in 1943, Grindelwald struck out; openly and personally. He began to murder and maim those his enemies held dear. Seeing as I was considered the wizard that would have to face Grindelwald in the end, which Grindelwald also believed, I feared for all those I loved. I feared for my brother, my students, my colleagues, but especially for my Minerva. What was I to do?" Professor Dumbledore paused as if Harry should have answered him, but continued before the boy could speak. "The day I had intended to be the happiest of my life instead became the saddest."
Believing he already knew the answer, Harry asked, "What did you do?"
"Instead of proposing...I...I told her that I did not love her," Dumbledore said calmly as a tear leaked out of his eye onto his silver beard. "She wanted to know why, of course, but I had no answer to give. The truth was I loved her more than life itself, but I also thought that I was saving her from Grindelwald. Few things are more difficult than breaking the heart of the woman you love." The Headmaster finally turned away from the window. He returned to his desk before continuing his story.
"Do you remember asking me about the memory you saw regarding me as a younger man?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes," Harry whispered.
"That was the day I betrayed my love to Minerva," Professor Dumbledore explained. "The moment you witnessed was right after she left me. I had never felt so terrible in all my life. Even my mother's death was not as painful because someone else had committed that atrocity. This one I did alone."
"But life went on, as it will," he said blandly. "In 1945, I finally faced Grindelwald. It was a long, hard-fought battle. Many times I thought I would fail, but one thought sustained me to the end."
"Minerva..." Harry interjected.
Dumbledore nodded. "I realized she still loved me inside my heart, if not in reality. I defeated the darkest wizard of the age because I had her love with me, strengthening me. So with Grindelwald gone, I became a hero. I received the Order of Merlin and got my face onto a Chocolate Frog card. But I would trade all the Orders of Merlin or Chocolate Frog cards to change the way things had become."
"Did you tell her how you really felt afterward? Does she know that your were just trying to protect her?" Harry asked anxiously as Fawkes fluttered down from his perch to sit on Dumbledore's knee. The wizened man absent-mindedly stroked his phoenix's beautiful red and gold plumage without speaking. "You didn't," Harry understood.
"No, I did not."
"But...why?" the student wondered. "If Grindelwald was gone, why not tell her?"
"Because, Harry...because I'm a coward," Dumbledore explained. Harry could not understand this. He thought Dumbledore one of the bravest men he had ever known. "I was afraid she would not forgive me for what I had done, but partly I could not forgive myself. So time went on and eventually Minerva found someone else. I was happy for her, though sad for myself. However, I knew the man she married quite well. I admired and respected him greatly and I had no doubt in my mind he loved her as much as I did."
Fawkes chirruped sadly, sensing the mood. "For twenty-five years the love of my life was joined to another. I watched from a distance still loving her, but always on the outside looking in. Eventually Minerva did forgive me, and we became dear, dear friends. Then when Samuel McGonagall died I..."
"It is Professor McGonagall, she is the Minerva you loved!" Harry exclaimed.
"Yes," Dumbledore answered simply. "I had a new chance Harry! It was as though fate was smiling on me once more. I again found the love I had so dearly missed from her. How was I to know what was soon in store for our world?" Harry could see the professor becoming more and more visibly upset.
"Sir, you do not have to go on if you don't want to," Harry suggested.
"I know Harry, but going on is precisely what I need to do," the Headmaster responded. "I did what I swore I would never do again. I broke her heart for a second time. It was a cruel twist of irony that when our love developed anew, another evil wizard destroyed my resolve. I once more told her I did not love her under the pretext that I was protecting her from this new threat."
"Voldemort," Harry assumed. Dumbledore only nodded. Some moments passed before either spoke again.
"I came to realize what a fool I was and I promised myself that I would never again hurt those I love, or sacrifice my happiness based on what might happen. I came to comprehend that I had hurt her far worse than any Grindelwald or Voldemort ever could have. Not only once, but twice," Professor Dumbledore proclaimed.
"So you confessed to her then?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore shook his head sadly, "Once a coward, always a coward I guess. I could not tell her because even though I promised myself to stay honest with those I loved, I no longer trusted myself. I felt the only way to truly protect her was to stay away, maybe friendship, but nothing more. After all, I never broke her heart as a friend."
Dumbledore stared at his hands before speaking again. "You see Harry? I do understand you. Please, please do not give up on your happiness. Do not become the fool that I became," he begged.
Harry felt his heart ache with understanding. "I know, Professor, but I cannot do anything just yet that might jeopardize her happiness with Ron. If Ron is who she is supposed to be with then I will be happy for her."
Harry left the Headmaster's office with a new understanding of the man he so admired. Harry knew Dumbledore was right, but he also knew he could not tell Hermione as long as she and Ron were so happy together. Maybe one day he could. One day. Maybe.
Several days later it became clear to Harry how oblivious he had been in his five and a half years at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's affections for McGonagall were so obvious. He noticed him gazing at her when he thought no one was looking, he would sometimes carry her books for her, but the most telling evidence would be how he lit up when she walked into the room. Harry smiled inwardly. Hadn't Dumbledore mentioned how someone looked when the one they loved was around? He probably had noticed these things before, but had dismissed them as acts of friendship and nothing more.
Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione's relationship had become a more public matter, and though he ached with regret, Harry did remain truly happy for his friends. Lavender and Parvati always seemed to dissolve into those girlish giggles Harry despised so much when his two friends were around. However, it was Neville that made him realize that he had not only been blind when it came to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, but Ron and Hermione as well.
"I always wondered when they would get together," Neville stated. "They were always ogling after each other for years. He's a lucky guy though, Ron is. Isn't he?"
"Yes," Harry replied, "very lucky."
"My heart, my life, my soul...she has the key to them all."
-unknown