Hermione looked at her watch for what turned out to be the second time in as many minutes. She was sitting on the edge of a comfy chair, alternately looking at the book in her lap, the stairs to the boys dorms and her watch as she waited for Harry to come down the stairs.

Her boyfriend had not been seen in the common room the night before. Hermione herself had managed to hang on until two in the morning, but hadn't seen him come in. Perhaps if she had had a normal boyfriend she could have ignored the matter, but the man she'd chosen had a bad habit of getting into life-threatening situations and she couldn't pretend like it wasn't a very real possibility that Harry hadn't come back because he'd ended up in the Hospital Wing or worse.

On the other hand, most of the trouble he'd gotten into since she'd known him seemed to be due to secrets between him and the Headmaster. She didn't want to make things more difficult for Harry by marching straight up to Madam Pomfrey and demanding to see him only to discover that he wasn't in her care at all.

Perhaps things might not have been so dire if Ron had been an early riser and she'd been able to pump him for information. As it was she was relegated to sitting here and hoping that she didn't end up missing breakfast. If that happens I'm going to the Hospital Wing, trouble or no.

Thankfully, her resolution would not be tested that morning as Harry came down the stairs at last, bleary-eyed, but with an unmistakable bounce in his step.

Hermione thrust her book into her bag and raced over to him. "Harry, where were you last night?!" She could barely contain the urge to hop from one foot to the other if only for the relief movement might bring to her worry.

Her boyfriend gave her a tired smile. "I had something to take care of."

Hermione tried not to glare at him, she really did, but that answer was woefully insufficient. She almost pushed him back when he leaned in close to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Not here. Later." Harry murmured with his lips brushing her cheek lightly.

She studied his eyes as he pulled back, wondering what on earth he might have done that he wouldn't admit to in a mostly empty Gryffindor common room. "Fine. Why don't we go have some breakfast before our study session?"

"Sounds perfect," Harry beamed, taking her hand and falling into step beside her as they ducked out of the portrait hole.

Hermione was torn on how to react to this Harry. She had had barely any sleep for worrying about him and that left her feeling particularly grumpy and put out with him, especially because he was being so upbeat about the whole thing. Confoundingly, it was precisely that attitude from Harry, made Hermione resist venting her emotions.

Her boyfriend wasn't usually this chipper in the mornings. In fact, he was usually downright morose until he'd finished his breakfast, courtesy of at least one Voldemort-induced nightmare and the last fortnight had been worse than usual in that regard.

Something significant happened last night, I'm virtually sure of it. What though? And will it change Harry beyond cheering him up in the mornings? That last thought worried Hermione more than she was willing to admit. She felt like she had already faced a few challenges to their relationship fairly well. The reactions of the other girls who had wanted Harry for themselves, the knowledge that Harry would permanently be in danger unless someone found a way to get rid of an apparently immortal madman and that there were things that he wasn't telling her; that he couldn't tell her. But he is my boyfriend. Surely I am entitled to something? Some reassurance that he is not drifting away from me? That I matter more than I have in the previous five years?

The girl she had been in primary school would never have dared dream that she might one day end up in a romantic relationship. Actually, the girl I was at the beginning of this school year couldn't have imagined it either. Hermione couldn't help but worry that if Harry was changing, a part of that change might include discarding her. That worry had her chewing on her thumb more than on her breakfast.

Harry was done a lot sooner than Hermione had expected. "You haven't eaten a bite. Are you okay?" he asked.

Hermione hesitated, looking for an answer to that question. Before she had found one, Harry nodded his head.

"Want to head up to the room and talk about it?"

"Please," Hermione agreed, her mind already awash with scenarios, trying to find the best way to ask Harry what was going on and get a decent answer.

The couple got up and hurried out of the room, ignoring the handful of curious looks from students that were already down in the Great Hall and awake enough to notice what was going on beyond the enticing scents of their morning meal.

Hermione and Harry made it up to the Room of Requirements far quicker than usual, possibly because they marched the entire way in nervous silence, each wrapped up in their own thoughts of what was to come. When they were finally ensconced in their refuge, Hermione felt a brief relief, before she remembered that she was now going to have to confront Harry about being happy of all things. No. I don't need to bring that up yet. I can leave it up in the air to begin with.

"So? What did you want to talk about?" Harry asked, plopping down on the couch.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Harry, this may sound a bit strange, but… did something happen last night?"

"You can tell that easily, huh?" he asked with a rueful grin.

The relaxed answer sucked some of the tension out of the room. "Well, I do like to think that I've gotten more familiar with your habits over the past few months," Hermione said with a smirk.

Something wavered in Harry's eyes for a second, but it cleared up almost immediately. "Yeah. Something happened."

"Was it something good?" Hermione asked when Harry paused.

"I- yeah. Yeah, it was." He fell silent again. Before she could prompt him a second time, he resumed speaking. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm not trying for some kind of dramatic effect here, but… I'm just looking for the words."

"Why don't you start with as stripped down an overview as you can give me?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. "I met the Oak King again last night."

Hermione felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. "Oh no. Are you alright? Is it that Enemy? Did something bad happen?"

Harry held up his hands as if defending himself from an onslaught. "Whoa. Calm down for a second, Hermione. It's not something bad, it's something good, remember? It's- it's indirectly related to defeating that enemy I guess."

Hermione's brain was working as fast as it ever had. "So the Oak King did something good to help you defeat the Enemy. Is this another case of him not allowing you to talk about it? Is that why you're being so cryptic?"

Harry looked surprised. "No, not this time. This time it's- well, a promise I made to Dumbledore if you must know."

The barely leashed rage in Harry's voice as he spat out the Headmaster's name took Hermione aback. "Harry?"

He shook his head and took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm very put out with that man right now." The way he'd said it made 'put out with' sound like a near insurmountable vendetta.

"But you'll still not tell me, even if you disagree with him?"

Harry let out a snort that sounded like a laugh that had slipped past his anger and resentment. "For all that I'm angry with our dear Headmaster right now, he convinced me that it's necessary to be cagey with this particular information. The facts involved haven't changed just because of my feelings."

"Okay… oh! Wait! We're here!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry could not have made it more clear that he hadn't followed her tangent if he had spoken the words out loud.

"We're in the Room! The place you've not allowed us to come for over a week now?"

"Ah. That."

"So whatever it is that happened last night has to do with the dangerous thing that was in this room, right?"

Harry looked like he was cursing his honesty from a week earlier. "Yeah. It's related. This place is safe again as of last night."

"So the Oak King helped you get rid of whatever was in here?"

Harry opened his mouth, only to close it again and shake his head as if to get rid of a persistent fly. "Hermione, please. I can't talk about it with you. You're way too good at figuring me out."

"Would it help if I promise that I wouldn't tell anyone?"

Harry shook his head sadly. "Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned you by name when he told me I couldn't even tell those closest to me."

"Oh." She honestly didn't know what to make of the fact that she had been so prominent in the Headmaster's thoughts, or at least that her relationship with Harry had merited special consideration. "Did you tell Professor Dumbledore about us?"

"Apparently it was just really obvious that I like you," Harry said, a shadow of a grin making its way back onto his face.

Hermione hoped the warmth she felt in her cheeks wasn't showing. She was feeling inordinately proud that she was considered so important to Harry that the greatest living wizard had to warn him not to share secrets with her.

"You're smiling. Does that mean I've answered your questions well enough that you want to start class?" Harry asked her, a hint of teasing sneaking into his voice.

Hermione threw a cushion at his head as the Room shifted to become her Defence classroom.

:-:-:-:-:

Harry learned on Monday that his time was running out. At breakfast it became so obvious that Dumbledore was watching him that even Seamus commented on it. Harry just hurried out the door of the Great Hall hoping that he would be able to avoid the old man for a little longer. Perhaps just until his graduation.

Yeah. Maybe McGonagall won't be waiting for me after class on Wednesday to drag me off by the ear. Then again, his Head of House had been very clear on her opinion of Harry and Dumbledore 'getting into trouble together'. Maybe he could figure out a way to put her between himself and the headmaster.

He was so distracted in his classes that even Professor Slughorn had to break the silence he'd been holding since he'd been caught in flagrante delicto to give Harry a reprimand, but Harry could deal with that. After all, the man had stopped fawning all over him and this was one of the first times that he felt that he'd deserved a talking to in Potions.

Harry snuck off to the kitchens for dinner that evening, just so he wouldn't be under the eyes of the staff where he might be trapped into going to see the old man. When he got back to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione just shook her head and warned him that this tactic couldn't last for long. Harry was determined to at least make it last as long as it could. He didn't think he could have a civil conversation with his headmaster with as much as anger as he was still feeling.

Tuesday morning dawned on a world covered in frost and mist and a huddle of students with red and yellow trims on their robes, stamping their feet and rubbing their arms in an effort to stay warm as they waited for their teacher whose thick robes made her look like a larger, ambulant version of Neville's Mimbulus mimbletonia.

"Alright, chaps. Greenhouse Five today," Professor Sprout announced as soon as she was sure that her students were all present. "We'll be taking on a challenge that I am absolutely certain will show up on your NEWTs, so make sure you pay attention."

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs trouped after their teacher into the indicated greenhouse. While Professor Sprout might have referred to it as a greenhouse, it was atypical to say the least. Greenhouse Five was where the nocturnal plants were kept so the glass had been darkened magically to keep as much sunlight out as possible. The inside of the greenhouse was lit with red-glowing crystals whose light barely managed to cut through the musty air, filled with the scents of mulch and fetid decay.

Professor Sprout's head didn't stop moving as she kept a careful eye on the sixth years and an equally careful eye on the surrounding plant-life. "Stebbins, close the door. Good. Now, I want everyone to stay on their toes today as we will be repotting a tricky little plant known as Devil's Snare."

There were some gasps around the class. Harry noticed that the smirk Ron was shooting him hid a hint of worry.

"You will pair up. If your partner gets caught, free them with a Grip-Breaking Jinx. If you both get caught, send up some red sparks. If you both get caught and both your wands get taken off you, speak up. Do not scream and shout as there are some plants here that find their prey through vibrations."

There was a quick, vicious, silent scuffle among the Gryffindor boys to determine who would get to partner with Neville. Ron eked out a win, barely blocking Harry's elbow to his ribs and using his back to shove Dean and Seamus out of position. The other two boys shrugged and paired up, leaving Harry the odd man out. Looking around he realised that the Hufflepuffs had all paired up together. He was about to suggest that he join Ron and Neville when Professor Sprout's voice put an end to that hope. "Up here with me, Potter. I'll keep an eye on you while you work."

"Yes, Professor."

Harry reluctantly made his way to the front of the class and took up position next to the teacher. Even in the dim gloom he could see the grinning looks that his dormmates were shooting him, much like they would have if he had been called up there for misbehaviour. The worst part might have been that he could not respond with an appropriately rude gesture since he was right under Sprout's nose.

Resigning himself to the thorough ribbing that was to come, Harry tried to focus on the lecture Professor Sprout was giving about the proper care of a plant that wanted to turn you into fertilizer. It proved to be difficult as his mind seemed bound and determined to drift off to that time in his first year when he had faced a massive patch of the stuff with Ron and Hermione by his side.

Despite trying to put those memories out of mind when the practical started, Harry found himself barely going through the motions of repotting the Devil's Snare, his hands taking the time to caress the vines in a way he normally would never have dreamed of. He found his mind filled with visions of cool, damp spaces; of inviting earth and roots gripping deep and strong. He felt annoyed at the loud rootless-warmths that disturbed perfectly good chances to grow; rootless-warmths that were too large to be absorbed, that would inflict pain if you tried. For some reason, he felt like his roots had gotten too tangled by the confines he had been kept in. Gripping the earth would be easier if he could unsnarl his roots, but that would take time.

Without really thinking about it, Harry began to tease apart the roots of the plant he was holding. Gently, bit by bit, he separated them out until the roots dangled freely. He lowered the plant into the hole he had dug for it and methodically added the earth back in. The whole time he kept stroking the Devil's Snare and watching the images parading through his head. As he patted down the last of the earth he felt like all he might need now was a small rootless-warmth. If he could get the sap of a moving thing to soak into his roots, that would truly be comfortable.

Harry grabbed one of the sealed watering cans that Sprout had filled with blood from the animals that were butchered by the kitchens. He poured out a generous amount on the earth around the little snare he had just repotted and watched it writhe happily.

He reached down and gently stroked the vines, getting gentle caresses from them in return and a definite sense that not all rootless-warmths were so bad. Harry kept petting the plant until the bell rang for the end of class. As he got up to leave, or at least tried to, Harry found the Devil's Snare hanging on to his wrist. Don't leave whispered through his mind.

I have to, he thought back. Why don't you watch over this place until I return? Hold the earth together. Help the others grow. I will return.

The vines reluctantly retreated.

Harry smiled down at the little plant he'd just gotten to know over the past hour, or at least imagined that he'd gotten to know. "See you next time, buddy."

As they left the greenhouse, Harry fell in with Neville and Ron. Ron grinned at him. "Have fun with our old friends?"

Harry just cocked an eyebrow at his mate. "I'm surprised you even know what plant we were working on after letting Nev do all the work." He calmly ignored his conscience protesting that he would have done the same if he'd won the scuffle at the start of class.

"Yeah, well you'd have caused him extra work, having to fix your mistakes," Ron shot back.

"Actually, Ron, you'd probably have been better off partnering with Harry today," Neville interrupted.

Both Harry and Ron stared at their dormmate. "Nev, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but Harry's a bloody gnome compared to you when it comes to Herbology."

Harry 'accidentally' trod on his mate's foot for that comment. "You really are a good deal better at working with plants than I am, Nev."

Neville shrugged. "Not today. I have no idea what you were doing with that Devil's Snare, but it looked happier and more docile than mine. I'd really like to work with you next time. I might learn something."

Harry didn't know what to say about that. "Thanks, I guess, Nev, but I think you might be overestimating me."

"No, he's definitely overestimating you," Ron smirked, causing Neville to laugh as the redhead danced out of the way of another stomp aimed at his foot.

Before Harry could retarget Ron's foot for some retribution, a voice called out from behind them: "hang back there, Potter!"

Looking behind him, Harry saw Professor Sprout huffing as she tried to catch up with them. He gave a shrug to his dormmates and stopped walking to allow her to catch up.

The Herbology teacher took a moment to catch her breath before straightening up and looking over the three boys in front of her. "Weasley, Longbottom, you can head on in. Potter, the headmaster asked me to ensure that you make it up to his office."

Harry knew that his face must have shown what he thought of that. The way Sprout barely managed to hide her surprise was enough to clue him in. Better get a hang of yourself, Potter. If she can read you, that old man can too.

"Very well, Professor. I'll head on up," Harry said tonelessly.

"I'll be escorting you, Potter." There was something almost apologetic about the way Sprout said it, but Harry could tell that she was going to follow her orders and not let him go up alone.

He decided to just incline his head.

"You okay there, mate?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"I'm fine," Harry said as pleasantly as he could.

Ron shook his head. "You don't have to tell me whatever it is, but you're acting weird."

Harry did his best to project reassurance towards his friends. "I probably should have said 'I will be fine'. I just have to get this over with."

For a moment it looked like Neville was going to ask more only to be stopped by an elbow to the ribs and warning glare from Ron. "We'll see you at dinner then, mate," Ron said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Both he and Neville gave waves as they moved off towards the castle.

Sprout waited until the guys were safely out of earshot before she began leading Harry towards the castle, so he had enough time to see that a debate had sprung up between Ron and Neville as they walked. No guesses for the subject.

When Sprout finally started to move, Harry followed along half a step behind her. Every so often he would catch his teacher glancing at him with some concern. Her mouth would open as if she wanted to ask something only to close again as she apparently thought the better of it.

Harry didn't feel like making this easy on her and volunteering any information so the walk up to the Headmaster's office passed in uncomfortable silence.

When they got to the Gargoyle, Sprout gave the password and then indicated that Harry should step onto the spiral staircase first. Harry obliged and made the familiar climb, stepping to the side when he reached the top. Sprout shot him another odd look as she stepped past him to knock on the door.

"Come in," the familiar voice called from inside.

Sprout opened the door and marched inside. "I've brought Mister Potter like you asked, Headmaster," she said formally.

Harry entertained the thought of running off and leaving them in an awkward position for a moment, but shook it off. It would only be more trouble in the long run. Instead, he stepped into the office and met Dumbledore's eyes with just a hint of challenge.

"Thank you, Pomona. I am sure that you will want some time to yourself before dinner and would not want to keep you here longer after you have already done me this favour."

Sprout clearly knew that she was being dismissed but hesitated. "Albus, Minerva made me promise that I would pass on the message that if one of you two gets hurt the other will have to deal with her. I don't know what's going on here, but Min's not the sort to give that kind of warning for no reason. Can you promise me that I haven't just brought a student up to do something that might be dangerous?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "I promise, Pomona. Mister Potter and I will be having a discussion; nothing more."

"Alright, Albus," Sprout agreed reluctantly. She turned around and began to leave, shooting Harry one last look before she closed the door behind her.

Harry stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back, holding his wand where Dumbledore wouldn't be able to see it. The silence stretched out between the two wizards, but Harry was determined that he wouldn't be the one to break it.

"I think that we have a long conversation ahead of us, my boy," Dumbledore finally sighed. "Will you take a seat?"

"I'll stand, Headmaster," Harry said curtly.

The old man nodded with a tinge of sadness. "You are angry at me, Harry. You have a right to be, I think."

Harry felt his grip on his wand tighten. "You think?"

Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. "Well, part of your anger is the result of what you learned and part is from not having learned more."

"Not having learned more?" Harry repeated incredulously. "Are you going to try and convince me that you didn't intend to kill me?"

"I most certainly did not intend to see your life end."

"Don't lie to me! I remember our discussion about Nagini. The same applies to me doesn't it?"

"Yes and no," Dumbledore said unhelpfully, still looking rather unruffled by the raging teen in his office. "I cannot deny that to unseat that part of Tom's soul from your body we will need you to die. On the other hand, that death may not have to be permanent."

"That doesn't even make sense," Harry fumed.

"Does it not?" Dumbledore asked mildly. "We are aware that Tom has decreed none but himself may take your life. What is the method he would most likely use to fulfil his resolution should the two of you meet?"

"He'd probably shove a Killing Curse up my nose," Harry retorted. "Which would leave me very dead."

"Your first statement was accurate. Or at least, it matches my own supposition," Dumbledore went on, ignoring the second part of Harry's answer. "Do you remember what the Killing Curse actually is?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's a spell that tears the user's soul and uses the torn part to knock the soul of another living thing out of its body," he recited, making sure to sound as bored as possible.

"Precisely," Dumbledore said with a nod, those sharp eyes still fixed on Harry like they were evaluating prey. "Have you stopped to consider yet what the effects of that spell might be if there are two target souls in the body it is aimed at?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but found himself distracted by the possibility of what the Headmaster had just raised. "I would have a fifty percent chance of dying?"

"That is one possible interpretation," Dumbledore said, not moving at all. "I would like to think that it is a hypothesis that is unlikely to prove correct given the difference between your whole soul and Tom's torn remnant."

"Then what do you think?!" Harry demanded with a scowl.

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. "I think, Harry, that it is likely that the Killing Curse would knock both souls from the body it was aimed at. I think that having to divide the magical impact between two souls would lessen the impact received by each soul in turn. I think that while that resulting force may be sufficient to dislodge an incomplete interloper completely, it would not be enough to accomplish the same for a whole soul, more intimately tied to the host body. I believe that your body would become a pseudo-horcrux for you as your soul would not be entirely severed, maintaining some sort of connection and 'stretching' for lack of a better descriptor, before returning to its original state. I believe that this would result in your ability to return to your body, freed from the burden you bear. I believe that the moment you return will be the moment when you hold the greatest tactical advantage over Tom, who will believe you to be dead. I think that when you face Tom for the last time, his casting of the spell that robbed you of your parents will grant you an opening that the difference between your skills and his will not allow you to create in the course of a duel. I think, in short, Harry, that this is the path to your eventual victory."

Harry's mouth was left swinging open. That-… I don't even know what to think about that. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"When you were last here and made your discovery, you quit my office before I could," Dumbledore said with a slight shrug.

Harry shook his head in annoyance. "No, why didn't you tell me about the horcrux if you had a plan for it? A plan that you think is key to winning this war."

Dumbledore gave him a pitying look. "Because I had hoped to spare you the immediacy of your mortality. Because this is still a hypothesis that I cannot verify without resorting to the same acts that Tom committed. Because I wanted more time to consider alternatives. Because, even if you do not believe it of me now, I care for you and would see the evils of this world pass you by whenever I could."

"If you really cared you would have told me! I trusted-" Harry bit off the end of that sentence and glared at the old man.

Dumbledore sighed tiredly and rubbed at his eyes. "Is it really so easy, Harry?"

"Of course!"

"You have received many questions about the war this year, have you not? How much have you told your peers?"

Harry blinked at that. "I thought I wasn't supposed to talk to anyone about what we discuss here?"

"I would prefer that, yes, but surely there have been questions about your trials at the end of last year or even your other unfortunate adventures over the years? Have you spoken of what it was like to face Tom? Perhaps shared some pointers on how to fight Death Eaters?"

"I told the DA some of it last year," Harry shot back.

"Some? Not all?"

"Well… not the gory bits, but everything else." Harry felt wrong-footed. He knew Dumbledore was setting him up for something, but couldn't quite tell what.

"Why not? I should imagine that this knowledge has weighed on you. Did you not think that you could benefit from sharing your burden?"

"But they shouldn't have to think about that sort of thing!" Harry protested.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Indeed. No one your age should have to."

A silence fell between the two men as Harry realized what Dumbledore was saying. "It's not the same," he gritted out angrily. "I'm stuck in this because of the prophecy. I need to know this stuff."

"So you are and so you do," Dumbledore agreed sadly. "That is why I have confided in you at all."

"Excuse me?" Harry protested indignantly.

"If that prophecy hadn't pushed Tom into singling you out the way he has, combined with the removal of the protections I could reasonably keep between you and him, I would not have chosen to burden you with this," Dumbledore spoke calmly. "If I could, I would have kept on protecting you as best I could until you were at least an adult and preferably beyond that. No teacher or parent worth the title wants a child drawn into a war."

"I'm not a child."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "After all you've been through it is not unreasonable that you should feel that way. Would you, I wonder, judge the first years to be children though?"

This time Harry could see the trap clearly and remained mulishly silent.

Dumbledore's smile remained unchanged. "I see that you will not lie. Much as you are loath to admit the truth of it, you do see them as children. Presumably it is a view you extend to at least the second years and a majority of the third years, yes? And these are witches and wizards who are only a few years younger than you are. Can you imagine how much that desire to keep them safe grows as the difference in age does?"

"You should still have told me," Harry growled mulishly.

Dumbledore cocked a slightly amused eyebrow. "While it is too late to change what has already happened, I am curious: what would we have won by burdening your soul earlier?"

"Your plan might still have had a chance of working."

Dumbledore shot up sharply, his hands on the arms of his chair as if preparing to push himself out of it. "What do you mean?!"

"I got rid of the horcrux already. If Riddle hits me with a Killing Curse, I'll just die."

Dumbledore sank back down. "You have already dealt with this obstacle," he murmured numbly. "Will you tell me how?"

Harry considered for a moment that he could just hold it over the old man for a while, but realised that it would be better to thoroughly convince Dumbledore that there was no reason for Harry to be in the path of an Avada Kedavra; ever. "I went into the Forbidden Forest and summoned the Oak King. We figured he'd made me his avatar in his fight with the Holly King. I was banking rather heavily on him not wanting to lose on a technicality if I had to die."

"Astounding," Dumbledore murmured as his hand absently pulled at his beard. "You have the most extraordinary connection with the Oak King, Harry. I have never heard of someone returning to a fey for a second wish and certainly hadn't thought that you would go to that well again, but your reasoning is well done. I am impressed. It is certainly a solution I could not conceive of."

"Uh-huh. So what do we do when I have to fight Riddle for the last time and we kill his snake?"

Dumbledore was quiet for a while. "I am unsure, Harry, but my first instinct would be to stress keeping your studies into the matter of your new abilities a secret, shared among as few people as possible."

Harry shrugged. "It's not spread further than the last time we talked about it."

"I did not truly expect that it would have, but it has become more crucial than ever before."

"You think we can surprise Riddle with someone having similar power to him?

"I think that it would require an unlikely amount of luck for it to result in a chance at a deathblow, but perhaps less luck than any other tactic. I will need some time to properly calculate in this new development."

"And you'll actually tell me the plan this time?" Harry demanded, not caring that he probably sounded petulant.

"I ought to have learned my lesson regarding your rather considerable creativity in these situations sooner. You and I shall discuss any plan regarding your battle with Tom before it is finalised."

Harry gave curt nod. "Thank you, sir. Anything else?"

"No, my boy. Not unless you would be willing to leave me with a memory of your encounter with the Oak King. There may be information in there that could be relevant to the plan."

"Not really," Harry disagreed. "He wasn't happy to be called and even less happy when it turned out to be for a good reason, but he dragged that soul-piece out of me all the same and then buggered off warning me not to waste the chance he'd given me."

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his forehead. "That does sound more like the general conception wizards have had of the fey for centuries."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the man.

"Yes, Harry, you may go."

Harry didn't need to be told twice and turned without another word and marched out the door.

AN:

The idea that Dumbledore sent Harry to die has been divisive in the fandom for as long as the seventh book's been out. The fact that he had Riddle's horcrux sitting in his forehead definitely means that there was a need for Harry to die at least temporarily (JKR has actually confirmed that basilisk venom itself doesn't destroy horcruxes, it destroys the container very thoroughly which ends the horcrux. If Fawkes could heal Harry he was clearly not "destroyed beyond the capability of muggles or magic to repair". Horcruxes in living beings mean that the living being has to die). I thought it would be interesting to wonder why Dumbledore was so focused on Voldemort absolutely having to be the one who did the deed (as he told Snape).

It occurred to me that that this may not have been specifically for magical reasons. Given what ended happening and what that implies (at least to me) about how the Killing Curse works, Dumbledore may have been considering tactics, rather than magic. There are after all a lot of ways to kill someone, but some of these would have a better outcome for both Harry and the Wizarding World in general. It's possible that Dumbledore was setting up Voldemort to underestimate the chances of Harry harming him (because dead people mostly don't get up and kill you of their own accord), thus giving Harry as much of a free shot as he could set up.