Chapter 59: The Act of Forgiving

"What sort of a curse is that, Severus?" Albus asked, after receiving grim news.

"A cutting curse," Severus replied, unable to form eye contact with him. "It…It was just a random curse. It is actually a mixture of two different curses. Two deadly curses. Though, Sectumsempra is a relatively milder curse. The counter-curse is quite easy."

"It is an advanced Dark Magic, Severus" remarked Albus, looking slightly pensive. "But how did Harry suddenly learn it?"

Severus looked away. "I have my theories. The point is that Potter could've easily killed Draco here."

Albus shook his head. "Will Draco be alright?" he asked and Severus nodded as he explained Draco's condition and his punishment for Harry. Albus could only agree with him. Although he highly doubted that Harry meant to do it, he couldn't let something like this slide.

He decided to leave it all in Severus's hands as he continued his seemingly fruitless search. He spent the last few weeks looking along the coastline—hoping to find just a trace of magic. And finally, he believed that he might've caught a breakthrough. He had found one place, near some high cliffs where he could detect, just the slightest bit of magic… and very old magic at that. He had searched the coast there for the last few days, and he could hardly believe his own luck.

Be truly believed that he found the place…

He had returned to the castle not long afterwards to prepare himself for what must come. When he had returned, he was delighted to hear some good news. It turned out that Harry was now going out with young Ginny Weasley, and his portraits all reported that they couldn't remember ever seeing either looking happier.

This little bit of news cheered him up greatly and enjoyed himself as he listened to some of the gossip going on. It turned out that though Harry seemed to become happily impervious to all of the news, Miss Weasley was lapping it all up.

Albus chuckled at hearing all that. "I am glad to see that things are going so well for him," he said, but his smile soon faded at that, knowing that these happy moments weren't going to last for too much longer. He had deliberated for some time into just going on his own to retrieve the Horcrux… but he shook his head hard at that. He had made a promise here… and he couldn't break it.

He had fooled himself into believing that Harry was still a child, and look at what happened. It had resulted in Sirius's death. In order to prevent something like that from happening again, he had to start treating him like an adult, not a child…

For he knew that once he had died, everyone would surly look to Harry for leadership… now he trusted Harry and his instincts… he knew that the boy was a natural leader and if there was anyone out there who could pull this off it was him.

But he couldn't stop himself from worrying and thought of his past lessons with Harry. He had given him all the weapons and advice he could give, the rest would soon be up to him. To be able to stand on his own feet and do the right thing… to be able to succeed where he, himself, had failed.

*Flashback*

Albus was exhausted. He had been travelling for weeks and barely slept the whole time. His body was aching for rest as he returned to the dark school very late. He barely paid any attention to anything around him, barely nodding his head when the Bloody Baron glided past him.

Though even his weariness couldn't stop the moral-boost that he needed; filling his insides as if he had sunk into a warm bath. After searching fruitlessly for months for another clue, he believed that he might've finally found a potential place to another Horcrux.

He had found a village of sorts about halfway along the cliffs and he had come to believe that the orphans were taken there for a little sea air and a view of the waves. No Muggle could reach this rock unless they were uncommonly good mountaineers, and boats cannot approach the cliffs, the waters around them were too dangerous. He had come to believe that Tom had climbed down with magic, and had brought with him two young children… who he terrorized…

When he returned to his office, his portraits each had something to say.

"The Room of Requirements?" repeated Albus in surprise when he put away his travelling cloak.

"It's just what I overheard," Dexter explained, "Harry believes that Malfoy is sneaking off to that place and he is planning something there."

"That would explain what Severus said about him disappearing from time to time," Albus said, thinking all over. "What else?"

"Well, he also thinks that he stole some Polyjuice Potion from Slughorn and is using his two bodyguards to change forms," Dexter said, "and keep guard."

Albus thought it all over as leaned back in his chair again, dozing off silently, and wondering if he could sleep here. "That is a very interesting theory," he said wearily, "Though also very possible. It is unlikely that Draco would have to many people help him here… and I suppose that it wouldn't have been too difficult to steal some Polyjuice Potions from Horace… I will have to have a word with Severus when I next see him."

He was dozing off again, his eyes drifting away closed and he probably would've fallen asleep there if not for the sudden loud knock on the door. His eyes snapped open and he had to fight the groan as he called out a weary, "Enter."

To his greatest surprise, it was Harry, taking off his Invisibility Cloak and was gasping for breath—as if he had run all the way here.

"Good gracious, Harry," he said in surprise, but it was good to see him again after such a long trip. "To what do I owe this very late pleasure?"

"Sir — I've got it," he gasped out, "I've got the memory from Slughorn."

And to his astonishment, Harry pulled out the little bottle of swirling memory. Albus stared at it, unable to think of anything to say for a moment, before he beamed at it.

"Harry, this is spectacular news! Very well done indeed! I knew you could do it!" he said, forgetting how tired he was as he leapt up from his seat and carefully took the bottle and strode over to retrieve his Pensieve. "And now," he said, his heart beating fast as he poured the memory in. "Now, at last. We shall see. Harry, quickly…"

Soon, the two of them were drifting through the swirl of memory and were back in Horace's memory, looking much like the previous fake memory. They had arrived just as Tom was asking Horace about Professor Merrythought was retiring and Horace was complimenting him on where he got his information.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite —" Horace chuckled, and it was here that the memory had changed. Instead of the fog appearing, he went on to say, "— I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."

Albus shook his head—typical of Horace. Tom merely smiled as the boys all chuckled around him.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

He noticed all the boys around him were smirking at each other, enjoying a private joke—and he had a very good idea to what it was about.

"Nonsense," said Horace briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet."

Well… Tom certainly went far… no doubt about that. Though not in the way that Horace had hoped for. Suddenly, the clock chimed eleven and Horace was now telling them all to head off to bed. Now here was where he would finally get some answers. Tom remained where he was and patiently waited until he and Horace were alone before he asked him about Horcruxes.

Horace stared at him for a moment, his hands twitching a little on his glass of wine before he asked if he was doing a project for Defense Against the Dark Arts. But they both knew that this wasn't about lessons.

"Not exactly, sir," Tom said. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No… well… you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that'svery dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said Horace, still looking unnerved.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir?" Tom asked, "I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I'd –"

As he always was, he was a very good at flattery and with lies. Horace was playing around with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple for a moment before he said nervously, "Well… well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," Tom said, and Albus knew him well enough to know that this was another lie. He knew what a Horcrux was, but just what did he want to learn that was so important?

Horace went on to explain just what a Horcrux was and how it worked. How you must split your soul and hide that part outside your own body in an object; so that, even if the body is destroyed, you can survive. "…few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

But the greedy look in Tom's face was clear and he asked eagerly how to split the soul.

"Well," Horace uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it would be an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?" Tom pressed on and Albus was shaking his head grimly.

"By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder," Horace said, growing more and more fearful by the second. "Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion —"

Albus couldn't help but wonder if Tom had already created a Horcrux by this point or even planned on doing it further on? When he killed Myrtle, his father and his grandparents…? He didn't think that Voldemort would likely give away any of his plans here, if he could help it. Either he didn't know about the Horcruxes or he wanted something else from Horace and he already knew what it was… but he needed proof…

"Encase?" Tom asked, "But how —?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" Horace said more forcefully. "Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," Tom said quickly, and also trying to apologize, but Horace shook it off, claiming that it was natural to be curious.

"Yes, sir," Tom said, before he asked one more thing, "What I don't understand, though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven —?"

Albus shook his head. So that was it…

"Merlin's beard, Tom!" Horace gasped in horror at the very idea. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case… bad enough to divide the soul… but to rip it into seven pieces…"

Albus knew Horace enough times to know that he was now disturbed by this whole conversation. "Of course," he muttered hopefully, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic…?"

"Yes, sir, of course," Tom said at once.

"But all the same, Tom… keep it quiet, what I've told — that's to say," Horace said firmly, "what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know. Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it…"

With good reason. If students like Tom were interested in it…?

"I won't say a word, sir," Tom said—but as he turned around, he got a good look on his face. That wild look of pure happiness that he had only seen once before… that made him seem… dark. This was it… the one final piece of the puzzle that he so desperately needed to learn what needed to be done. He sighed, it was worse than he thought.

"Thank you, Harry," he said quietly, his tone full of grim gratefulness. "Let us go…"

Back in the office, he sat down, his weariness back in full swing—but his mind still going the whole time. Harry was sitting there as well, and waited for him to speak. "I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a very long time," he told him softly, and truthfully he was starting to worry that he wouldn't get it before it was too late. "It confirms the theory on which I have been working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is still to go…"

All the portraits were up and looking around, eagerly listening in on. He made another mental note to make sure that they all kept their mouths quiet about what they would hear.

Ignoring them for the moment, he turned back to Harry and said, "Well, Harry, I am sure you understood the significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you are now, give or take a few months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out how to make himself immortal."

But with the Horcrux or with more than one Horcrux, Voldemort is not exactly immortal. It was simple now what they had to do… well, simple in theory of course. Voldemort will be just a mortal. But, it is tremendously difficult to destroy a Horcrux. Especially to get through the protections that Tom would have definitely placed on and around it. That makes him near-about invincible. He could be killed, of course, but it would be difficult… exceedingly difficult.

"You think he succeeded then, sir?" Harry asked him almost before he finished speaking. "He made a Horcrux? And that's why he didn't die when he attacked me? He had a Horcrux hidden somewhere? A bit of his soul was safe?"

"A bit… or more," Albus said. He had always known that Tom should've died that Halloween night, and it had always puzzled him to how he managed it. "You heard Voldemort, what he particularly wanted from Horace was an opinion on what would happen to the wizard who created more than one Horcrux, what would happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be prepared to murder many times, rip his soul repeatedly, so as to store it in many, separately concealed Horcrux. No book would have given him that information. As far as I know — as far, I am sure, as Voldemort knew — no wizard had ever done more than tear his soul in two."

And the idea of so many Horcruxes was a nightmare to them all. They were the key, and so long as a single one remained, then they had no hope of defeating him once and for all. He let all this sink in for another moment before he confessed to Harry how four years ago when he had handed him proof that Voldemort had split his soul. And that had been Riddle's diary and the whole incident with the Chamber of Secrets.

"I don't understand, sir," said Harry.

"Well, although I did not see the Riddle who came out of the diary, what you described to me was a phenomenon I had never witnessed," he went on, thinking of the memories that he had seen in Harry's mind that very night. "A mere memory starting to act and think for itself? A mere memory, sapping the life out of the girl into whose hands it had fallen?"

That was all impossible. A memory was supposed to be just that—a memory. Which meant that it shouldn't have been able to have done what it had been able to up to that point… and he was sure of it… That was no mere memory that Harry fought that night.

"No, something much more sinister had lived inside that book," he said firmly, "A fragment of soul, I was almost sure of it. The diary had been a Horcrux. But this raised as many questions as it answered. What intrigued and alarmed me most was that that diary had been intended as a weapon as much as a safeguard."

"I still don't understand," said Harry and Albus went on to explain. He informed him that it worked as a Horcrux. Meaning that the piece of Voldemort's soul was hidden inside it and helped to keep him from dying. However, he also told him that there was no doubt in his mind that Tom wanted that diary to be used later on in the future.

"Well, he didn't want his hard work to be wasted," said Harry. "He wanted people to know he was Slytherin's heir, because he couldn't take credit at the time."

"Quite correct," Albus agreed. "But don't you see, Harry, that if he intended the diary to be passed to, or planted on, some future Hogwarts student, he was being remarkably blasé about that precious fragment of his soul concealed within it. The point of a Horcrux is, as Professor Slughorn explained, to keep part of the self hidden and safe, not to fling it into somebody else's path and run the risk that they might destroy it — as indeed happened: That particular fragment of soul is no more; you saw to that."

He felt the pride in him rise greatly at that. Even before Harry knew about Horcruxes, he had been able to destroy on. But when he explained his theory on how Tom had must've made more than one and reminded him of the words that he told him when Voldemort gave his speech to the Death Eaters two years ago… he knew that Voldemort had succeeded—no matter how sick it made him feel.

"So he's made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people?" said Harry, sounding horrified and furious at this. "Why couldn't he make a Sorcerer's Stone, or steal one, if he was so interested in immortality?"

"Well, we know that he tried to do just that, five years ago," Albus reminded him, and listed all risks of using the Stone. How Voldemort would be completely dependent on it and if he ever ran out, he'd die. While he was willing to use it to return to his body, he highly doubted that he would've seen a use for it after.

Voldemort wasn't happy with just being immortal… he actually craved for the right way to do it. Though horrible, it was strange how Tom insisted on doing such a thing.

"Thereafter, I am convinced; he intended to continue to rely on his Horcruxes," he said, "He would need nothing more, if only he could regain a human form. He was already immortal; you see… or as close to immortal as any man can be. But now, Harry, armed with this information, the crucial memory you have succeeded in procuring for us, we are closer to the secret of finishing Lord Voldemort than anyone has ever been before. You heard him, Harry: 'Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces… isn't seven the most powerfully magical number… 'Yes, I think the idea of a seven-part soul would greatly appeal to Lord Voldemort."

"He made seven Horcruxes?" said Harry, horror-struck, while several of the portraits on the walls made similar noises of shock and outrage. "But they could be anywhere in the world — hidden — buried or invisible —"

"I am glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of the problem," he informed him but told him that it was six, not seven. He felt that he had just torn his insides apart at saying that—especially since there was another Horcrux in the room with them. Fighting the surge of emotions in him, he went on, "That was the part of him that lived a spectral existence for so many years during his exile; without that, he has no self at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Voldemort must attack — thepiece that lives in his body."

"But the six Horcruxes, then," said Harry, a little desperately, "how are we supposed to find them?"

But Albus interrupted by telling him, "You are forgetting… you have already destroyed one of them. And I have destroyed another."

"You have?" said Harry eagerly.

"Yes indeed," he said, and he finally told him the truth about his hand. How he had found the ring in the remains of the Gaunt's House and had destroyed it.

"But how did you find it?" Harry asked in amazement.

"Well, as you now know, for many years I have made it my business to discover as much as I can about Voldemort's past life," he told him, remembering all the painful hours of searching. "I have traveled widely, visiting those places he once knew. I stumbled across the ring hidden in the ruin of the Gaunt's house…"

When he finished telling him all about his trip to the Gaunt's he reminded him that there were still four Horcruxes. Though he knew that wasn't completely true… he felt disgusting with himself that he was forced to lie again…

Tom Riddle had a strong, overwhelming intent both to prove himself superior and to receive the adoration he never was able to receive from his mother. But the second of these two desires was never fulfilled, and so in his longing need to feel superior was what caused him to start his obsession of controlling other people. This is how he discovered his ability to cause pain in others, and the pleasure it gave him.

Albus also believed that the death of his mother and the absence of her in his life had an extreme impact as well. He believed that her death, and the fact that she was unable to prevent it magically, led to his obsession with death. If he could prove himself more powerful than death, he can prove himself more powerful than everyone else, thus his need to feel superior. Now Albus knew that this knowledge is crucial, for without it, they would still be under the impression that Voldemort's sole motivation was for power… but now it was also to achieve his primary goal of immortality.

And so, when Voldemort attacked Harry that night, and the spell rebounded on him, he once again was overwhelmed by his desire to become immortal. Albus had come to believe that Voldemort would have thought, in that split second that despite all his efforts, he would die. This unbearable urge to never die surged through him and he unwittingly turned the nearest thing to him into a Horcrux – baby Harry.

"And they could be anything?" said Harry, his voice interrupting his dark and miserable thoughts. "They could be oh, in tin cans or, I dunno, empty potion bottles…"

He seriously doubted that Voldemort would use anything so flippant. Tom always had a fascination for important things… such as heirlooms or anything common. He will make sure that his Horcruxes are also genuinely fascinating and rare magical objects.

"You are thinking of Portkeys, Harry," he said with a nod, "which must be ordinary objects, easy to overlook. But would Lord Voldemort use tin cans or old potion bottles to guard his own precious soul? You are forgetting what I have showed you. Lord Voldemort liked to collect trophies, and he preferred objects with a powerful magical history His pride, his belief in his own superiority, his determination to carve for himself a startling place in magical history; these things, suggest to me that Voldemort would have chosen his Horcrux with some care, favoring objects worthy of the honor."

"The diary wasn't that special," he pointed out.

True, but Tom would feel he was important enough to think that his diary would be."The diary, as you have said yourself, was proof that he was the Heir of Slytherin. I am sure that Voldemort considered it of stupendous importance."

"So, the other Horcruxes?" Harry said, "Do you think you know what they are, sir?"

"I can only guess," he confessed, though he had some very good ideas. "For the reasons I have already given, I believe that Lord Voldemort would prefer objects that, in themselves, have certain grandeur. I have therefore trawled back through Voldemort's past to see if I can find evidence that such artifacts have disappeared around him."

"The locket!" said Harry loudly, his eyes wide, "Hufflepuff's cup!"

"Yes," he confirmed, smiling, "I would be prepared to bet — perhaps not my other hand — but a couple of fingers, that they became Horcruxes three and four. The remaining two, assuming again that he created a total of six, are more of a problem, but I will hazard a guess that, having secured objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, he set out to track down objects owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."

Yes, objects that had once belonged to the four founders would've been a thought that would've made him feel even more important.

"Four objects from the four founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over Voldemort's imagination. I cannot answer for whether he ever managed to find anything of Ravenclaw's. I am confident, however, that the only known relic of Gryffindor remains safe." Dumbledore pointed his blackened fingers to the wall behind him, where a ruby-encrusted sword reposed within aglass case.

Well, not the only one. The Sorting Hat was indeed a Gryffindor relic… but, he knew that there had been one more of the object that had belonged to all the four. And his eyes went to the Sorting Hat for a brief moment before Harry had asked him if he believed that was why he wanted to come back to Hogwarts… so that he could try and find something that belonged to the other founders.

"My thoughts precisely," he agreed. "But unfortunately, that does not advance us much further, for he was turned away, or so I believe, without the chance to search the school. I am forced to conclude that he never fulfilled his ambition of collecting four founders' objects. He definitely had two — he may have found three — that is the best we can do for now."

In any event, when he returned to Hogwarts after ten years and attempts to get a job – at this point he has definitely created more than a couple Horcruxes—his appearance was proof of that.

"Even if he got something of Ravenclaw's or of Gryffindor's, that leaves a sixth Horcrux," said Harry, counting them off, "Unless he's got both?"

But he shook his head and asked him what he thought of Nagini instead.

"The snake?" said Harry, startled. "You can use animals as Horcruxes?"

"Well, it is inadvisable to do so," he admitted, "because to confide a part of your soul to something that can think and move for itself is obviously a very risky business. However, if my calculations are correct, Voldemort was still at least one Horcrux short of his goal of six when he entered your parents' house with the intention of killing you. He seems to have reserved the process of making Horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. You would certainly have been that."

He felt the need to keep banging his head in by talking about this, but he forced himself to go on."He believed that in killing you, he was destroying the danger the prophecy had outlined. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure that he was intending to make his final Horcrux with your death. As we know, he failed. After an interval of some years, however, he used Nagini to kill an old Muggle man, and it might then have occurred to him to turn her into his last Horcrux. She underlines the Slytherin connection, which enhances Lord Voldemort's mystique; I think he is perhaps as fond of her as he can be of anything; he certainly likes to keep her close, and he seems to have an unusual amount of control over her, even for a Parselmouth."

"So," said Harry, "the diary's gone, the ring's gone. The cup, the locket, and the snake are still intact, and you think there might be a Horcrux that was once Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's?"

"An admirably succinct and accurate summary, yes," he said, bowing his head sadly.

"So… are you still looking for them, sir?" Harry then asked interestedly, "Is that where you've been going when you've been leaving the school?"

"Correct," he answered. "I have been looking for a very long time. I think… perhaps… I may be close to finding another one. There are hopeful signs."

"And if you do," said Harry quickly, "can I come with you and help get rid of it?"

He wasn't the least bit surprised by this request. He looked at him long and hard… part of him wanted to say no, that it was too dangerous. But then again… he looked at Harry's face and remembered that he wasn't a child who needed protection anymore. This young man still had a lot to learn… but he often forgot that…

Besides… he didn't want a repeat of what happened the last time he tried to destroy a Horcrux on his own… he needed someone there to keep him in line.

"Yes, I think so," he said softly.

Harry, obviously stunned by that, croaked out "I can?" clearly not expecting that.

"Oh yes," he said, smiling a little at his stunned tone. "I think you have earned that right."

Harry's face looked thrilled, and Albus did his best to ignore the other portraits—all of them disappointed in him for what they knew that he knew about this subject.

"Does Voldemort know when a Horcrux is destroyed, sir? Can he feel it?" Harry asked, thankfully going on before he had time to really think about them.

"A very interesting question, Harry," he told him. "I believe not. I believe that Voldemort is now so immersed in evil, and these crucial parts of himself have been detached for so long, he does not feel as we do. Perhaps, at the point of death, he might be aware of his loss… but he was not aware, for instance, that the diary had been destroyed until he forced the truth out of Lucius Malfoy. When Voldemort discovered that the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, I am told that his anger was terrible to behold."

He felt a great deal of pity for poor Lucius at the thought. But Harry seemed confused and reminded him that Voldemort wanted Lucius to smuggle it into Hogwarts.

"Yes, he did, years ago," Albus admitted, "when he was sure he would be able to create more Horcruxes, but still Lucius was supposed to wait for Voldemort's say-so, and he never received it, for Voldemort vanished shortly after giving him the diary. No doubt he thought that Lucius would not dare do anything with the Horcrux other than guard it carefully, but he was counting too much upon Lucius's fear of a master who had been gone for years and whom Lucius believed dead."

Lucius should've known better then to use such a weapon just in case his master was alive.

"Of course, Lucius did not know what the diary really was," he added, knowing that Voldemort would never have told another living soul about that, "I understand that Voldemort had told him the diary would cause the Chamber of Secrets to reopen because it was cleverly enchanted. Had Lucius known he held a portion of his masters soul in his hands, he would undoubtedly have treated it with more reverence — but instead he went ahead and carried out the old plan for his own ends. By planting the diary upon Arthur Weasleys daughter, he hoped to discredit Arthur and get rid of a highly incriminating magical object in one stroke. Ah, poor Lucius… what with Voldemort's fury about the fact that he threw away the Horcrux for his own gain, and the fiasco at the Ministry last year, I would not be surprised if he is not secretly glad to be safe in Azkaban at the moment."

As Voldemort perfected the craft of creating a Horcrux, it seems that he gave his later, perfect, experiments the care and protection he considered unworthy of the diary. Yes, to an extent, he protected the diary by entrusting it to Lucius Malfoy, but clearly that was not a very efficient protection as Lucius – in a selfish effort to discredit Arthur Weasley – handed the diary right to Ginny Weasley, the sister of the best friend of Harry Potter. Ultimately, Lucius basically handed the diary to Harry himself.

Harry then asked him slowly, "So if all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort could be killed?"

"Yes, I think so," Albus admitted. "Without his Horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his Horcruxes."

Harry's eyes widen and he cried out, "But I haven't got uncommon skill and power."

It sounded to him as thought Harry had been listening to Severus for too long. Of course he had amazing skill and power. You just have to take a look at his records to know that. It was too bad that he will never ever accept his own achievements.

"Yes, you have," he told him firmly, without a doubt in his mind. "You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can —"

"I know!" Harry cut him off impatiently. "I can love!"

Judging from his face, he had a good feeling to what he looked like he wanted to add. And it is a very big deal! He doesn't even realize that this is nothing less than a miracle that he had faced so much and has still turned out to be such a caring person? He never turned to Dark Arts or craved for any sort of power!

"Yes, Harry, you can love," he answered softly, "Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are, Harry."

Love in its purest form is defined as a deep ineffable feeling toward a person; whether your love is for friends, family, or to someone who is so much more… Wars have been fought and lives have been lost in the name of love. Love sometimes renders a person blind, deaf and dumb. Love has even set friend against friend.

Harry Potter has received little love in the past. The Dursleys made sure of this in an effort to suppress his magic. It was much the same way that Merope suffered by her father, but it had little effect on Harry because, unlike Merope, Harry was deeply loved by his parents. Deeply, and so much that his parents died while protecting him. In a way the Dursleys did do Harry a great service. They taught him what not to become or how not to behave. Nowhere is this more evident than in Harry's choices of friends. What would be important to the Dursleys isn't to Harry.

The Dursleys never showed Harry what a real family can be.

"So, when the prophecy says that I'll have 'power the Dark Lord knows not,' it just means — love?" asked Harry, sounding disappointed.

"Yes — just love," Albus confirmed. "But Harry, never forget that what the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it so. I told you this at the end of last year. Voldemort singled you out as the person who would be most dangerous to him — and in doing so, he made you the person who would be most dangerous to him!"

"But it comes to the same—" Harry began but Albus was shaking his head. He wanted Harry to find his own reasons to kill Voldemort. Not just because there was a Prophecy about him, but because he really wishes to do that.

"No, it doesn't!" he said impatiently, pointing at Harry with destroyed hand, he said, "You are setting too much store by the prophecy!"

"But," spluttered Harry, "but you said the prophecy means —"

"If Voldemort had never heard of the prophecy, would it have been fulfilled?" he asked him, "Would it have meant anything? Of course not! Do you think every prophecy in the Hall of Prophecy has been fulfilled?"

"But," said Harry, bewildered, "but last year, you said one of us would have to kill the other —"

"Harry, Harry, only because Voldemort made a grave error, and acted on Professor Trelawney's words!" he answered him, his voice getting louder, "If Voldemort had never murdered your father, would he have imparted in you a furious desire for revenge? Of course not! If he had not forced your mother to die for you, would he have given you a magical protection he could not penetrate? Of course not, Harry! Don't you see? Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back! Voldemort is no different! Always he was on the lookout for the one who would challenge him. He heard the prophecy and he leapt into action, with the result that he not only handpicked the man most likely to finish him, he handed him uniquelydeadly weapons!"

"But —" Harry began, but Albus stood up and paced around the room, trying to make him understand. How that Voldemort helped to forge Harry into the person he was… that he had created his own undoing by attempting to kill him that night. Yet all of these powers and abilities that he had been given, how he can see into Voldemort's mind, he had never once showed any desire to go to the Dark Arts.

"Of course I haven't!" said Harry indignantly. "He killed my mum and dad!"

"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!" he said loudly. "The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort's! In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you were at the age of eleven, when you stared into a mirror that reflected your heart's desire, and it showed you only the way to thwart Lord Voldemort, and not immortality or riches. Harry, have you any idea how few wizards could have seen what you saw in that mirror?"

Himself included…

"Voldemort should have known then what he was dealing with, but he did not!" he went on, "But he knows it now. You have flitted into Lord Voldemort's mind without damage to yourself, but he cannot possess youwithout enduring mortal agony, as he discovered in the Ministry. I do not think he understands why, Harry, but then, he was in such a hurry to mutilate his own soul, he never paused to understand the incomparable power of a soul that is untarnished and whole."

He paused for breath… how could he not notice… never realize just how special he was? After all these years… Albus had never seen anything like this before.

"But, sir," said Harry, just as loudly, "it all comes to the same thing, doesn't it? I've got to try and kill him, or —"

"Got to?" Albus asked, "Of course you've got to! But not because of the prophecy! Because you, yourself, will never rest until you've tried! We both know it! Imagine, please, just for a moment, that you had never heard that prophecy! How would you feel about Voldemort now? Think!"

He didn't look at him as he continued to pace the room, waiting for him to speak. Finally, he heard Harry said quietly, "I'd want him finished… And I'd want to do it."

Anybody would. But, only he had the resources to actually make that happen. Going up against Voldemort… he knew was going to be excruciatingly difficult. But, Harry had to do it! Not because of the Prophecy, but because… he was the only one who could.

"Of course you would!" he said, hoping that Harry was finally understanding. "You see, the prophecy does not mean you have to do anything! But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark you as his equal. In other words, you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Voldemort continues to setstore by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you… which makes it certain, really, that —"

"That one of us is going to end up killing the other," said Harry. "Yes."

Albus looked away, Harry has already faced Voldemort many times already… armed only with the power of love. Voldemort had already been defeated once by love. Specifically, he was defeated by Lily love for her son. Yet there is another type of love that may play an even more important role here… one that would be more painful than anything else out there… forgiveness.

This is the most challenging type of love—to be able to forgive those who have harmed us. He believed that it was impossible to feel love or friendship for those who try to do us harm or harm those we care about. At best, we may be able to treat our enemies with compassion and offer them forgiveness for their crimes against us. This is the type of love that Harry has struggled with the most. He has had a great deal of difficulty setting aside his personal animosity toward Severus and the Malfoy family, and this has caused him grief on more than one occasion.

But when he had been able to set aside his anger and exhibit compassion toward his enemies, however, such as with Sirius… he learned, not only the truth about his parents' betrayal, but gain the love of a godfather. And also… he had been able to show mercy to the same man who had been behind it. By showing mercy to Peter Pettigrew and sparing his life, Harry placed one of Voldemort's servants in his debt.

Being able to forgive those who have caused suffering in our lives is often impossible… forgiveness… is never easy… but then again, if it was… they're would be no point.

He looked back to Harry's thoughtful expression and he couldn't help but wonder… would harry be able to do the same? Could he ever truly forgive Voldemort?

But he knew that the answer was something that only Harry himself… can decided.

*End of Flashback*

Albus sighed as he came out of his thoughts. He didn't know why he suddenly thought about all that now of all times. Now was the time for him to leave… he had just sent out a message to Harry to meet him in his office as quickly as he could.

But as he picked up his traveling cloak, his eyes suddenly went to the familiar Sorting Hat on the shelf. He stared at it for a few moments—and, not sure why he did it—he walked over to it and picked it up off its shelf. He remembered the last time that he had thought to place the hat on his head… back when he had been a young man.

Even though it had been many years since then, he remembered those words very well.

"It looks like that I might've been wrong about you all along, Dumbledore. Perhaps Slytherin would've been a better place for you. But, then again, I'm just a hat."

Having a feeling that he was going to regret doing this, Albus slowly placed it onto his head. To his surprise, the hat still slid over his eyes as it had done before. He waited patiently for the hat to speak… wondering what it was going to say now.

"Bee in your bonnet… Dumbledore?It's been some time," the hat's voice said. "But I can see that you've been quite busy since we last spoke?"

'Yes,' Albus thought back. 'Many things have changed since then.'

"But… you really haven't changed a bit have you?" the hat asked him knowingly.

'No,' Albus answered back calmly. 'I don't believe that I have.'

"But your priorities seemed to have changed," it added thoughtfully, and he could tell that the hat was enjoying itself, looking through his mind.

"Maybe…" he said out loud, "But that no longer matters. The truth is… I don't have much time."

"Don't think that I don't already know," the hat answered him. "I can see that your time is just about up. In fact, I see that you don't plan on living much longer. But don't pretend to be so naïve. We both know that those words mean nothing. It doesn't change the truth… you returned to this school out of fear time and time again… but it seems that you are still running away from something. I would've thought that you learned your lesson by now. The sad fact is that you can't escape your past, you can't just erase the harm you've done or will do…"

"No, I agree," Albus sighed. "In some ways I have changed a lot since I first came back to Hogwarts… but I know full well in other ways, I haven't changed a bit. And that I find just as tragic as you do."

He stood there in silence for a short time before the hat spoke again.

"Are you leaving now?" it asked, though it must already know the answer.

"Yes," he said. "After all… we only have the time we're given. In the end everyone dies… including me."

"Well, that's quite something to say… especially coming from you," the hat said, and for the first time, it sounded sad, "Considering what you've done with your time."

"Again, you're right. I know that I'm far from innocent. I've done a lot of things that I am deeply ashamed of and I know I can't change that," Albus agreed. "But still… I will have to take my chances and accept the consequences for those actions. I don't intend to live past tonight. After that, I will have no choice but to leave it all up to fate."

"Fate is a strange thing," the hat stated. "Impossible to know what it has planned for us all. You felt confident about your skills the last time we spoke, but now you are not so sure. You have a deep lack of trust in you."

"Yes, but it's myself I don't trust," he stated.

"Especially that one student who will be joining you tonight?" that hat asked and he felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut. "You trust him… you trust him more out of anyone else you've ever known… even your own brother or the Order members… but even then, you just can't bring yourself to trust him with everything can you? A very bad habit of yours that you just can't bring yourself to let go of. More than anything else, you're afraid of him… of what he might fall prey to. Because you know that boy is so much like how you were when you were his age. And, right now, your greatest fear is that he will repeat the same mistakes that you made."

Albus stood there for a moment. "Is that what you think?"

The hat didn't answer.

"I agree that we are a lot alike, but… at the same time we're completely different," he said. He pulled the hat off and looked at it. "And I just have to trust him here. That's really all I can do now."

He put it back on the shelf as he slowly walked to the window and stared out at it for a short time. Just staring out at the window looking out at the grounds… and wondering…

Suddenly, he heard a loud hammer at the door and was almost surprised that the force didn't break it. After calling him in, Harry flung open the door and almost ended up falling in his hurry. Albus looked up at him and said softly, "Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me."

Harry blinked, as if wondering what he was talking about before he stammered, "Come… with you…?"

"Only if you wish it, of course," he added.

"If I…?" he began before his eyes widen and asked if he found a Horcrux.

"I believe so," Albus admitted softly and the look on Harry's face seemed to be fighting emotions. "It is natural to be afraid."

"I'm not scared!" said Harry at once, "Which Horcrux is it? Where is it?"

"I am not sure which it is - though I think we can rule out the snake - but I believe it to be hidden in a cave on the coast many miles from here," he answered, "a cave I have been trying to locate for a very long time: the cave in which Tom Riddle once terrorized two children from his orphanage on their annual trip; you remember?"

"Yes," said Harry. "How is it protected?"

"I do not know; I have suspicions that may be entirely wrong," he finished. He knew that he had had promised him that he would take him with him, but now that it was here, he wasn't happy about it at all. "Harry, I promised you that you could come with me, and I stand by that promise, but it would be very wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous."

"I'm coming," said Harry, almost before he finished speaking, but it was here that Albus could see it. He could see traces of a deep anger written all over his face. He looked at him closely, and a little concerned as he asked what happened.

"Nothing," he said quickly, refusing to look at him, and he knew then that Harry was deeply angry with him over something.

"What has upset you?" he pressed on, and again Harry denied anything."Harry," he said, "you were never a good Occlumens -"

But that one word seemed to spark a storm. Harry glared up at him, and he was taken aback by the furious glint there.

"Snape!" he said, so loudly that he had startled Fawkes, behind him. "Snape's what's happened! He told Voldemort about the prophecy, it was him, he listened outside the door, Trelawney told me!"

Albus didn't show any emotion, but it was a narrow thing. He was trying to figure out what he could say… and finally, more out of trying to gain extra time than anything, "When did you find out about this?"

"Just now!" said Harry, and suddenly he was yelling, just as loudly as he had the year before. "AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!"

Breathing hard as if he had run miles, he turned and paced the office, rubbing his knuckles, and Albus knew that he was trying to control his anger—otherwise he would be smashing things once again. He just stood there, wondering what he could say to him…

He knew that Harry was angry here, and he didn't blame him for that. He just learned that his teacher was the one responsible for his parents' deaths. "Harry," he said softly, "Please listen to me."

Harry stopped his pacing, it looked like it was a lot of hard look, as he glared up at him.

"Professor Snape made a terrible -"

"Don't tell me it was a mistake, sir, he was listening at the door!" Harry interrupted before he could finish.

"Please let me finish," Albus asked, trying to remain calm until Harry gave him a hard nod and glared at him. He tried to explain that Severus had made a terrible mistake—that he didn't know that the people that Voldemort sent after were James or Lily.

Harry let out a laugh that was cold. "He hated my dad like he hated Sirius! Haven't you noticed, Professor, how the people Snape hates tend to end up dead?"

Albus knew that this didn't excuse the fact that he sent Voldemort after a baby… but…

"You have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realized how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry," he said softly, "I believe it to be the greatest regret of his life and the reason that he returned -"

"But he is a very good Occlumens, isn't he, sir?" Harry interrupted, his voice now shaking with anger. He demanded to know what made him so sure that he was on their side. Albus didn't know what to say. He wanted so desperately to tell Harry the truth… but Severus's words came back to him. How he had sworn never to tell anyone else how he felt about Lily. Especially to Harry…

"I am sure. I trust Severus Snape completely," he answered.

He could see that Harry was breathing deeply, trying to calm down, but it didn't seem to be helping. "Well, I don't!" he said, as loudly as before. "He's up to something with Draco Malfoy right now, right under your nose, and you still -"

Albus's voice was stern. "We have discussed this, Harry. I have told you my views."

"You're leaving the school tonight and I'll bet you haven't even considered that Snape and Malfoy might decide to…" Harry snapped back.

"To what?" Albus asked, his eyebrows raised. "What is it that you suspect them of doing, precisely?"

He knew that Draco was up to something, but he had to trust that Severus knew what he was doing as Harry began to rant that they were up to something. He informed him that just as he was coming up here, Professor Trelawney was thrown out of the room with Malfoy celebrating. He's trying to med something dangerous in there. "And you're about to just walk out of school without -"

"Enough," Albus said calmly, but sternly. Harry fell silent as he asked, "Do you think that I have once left the school unprotected during my absences this year? I have not. Tonight, when I leave, there will again be additional protection in place. Please do not suggest that I do not take the safety of my students seriously, Harry."

"I didn't -" mumbled Harry, a little abashed, but Albus let him know that he wasn't going to talk about this any further. Harry looked as if he would love nothing more than to argue with him, but Albus didn't need to look inside his mind to know that he wanted to go more than anything else so he was biting back his retort. "Do you wish to come with me tonight?" he asked him.

"Yes," said Harry at once.

A part of him was hoping that he wouldn't… that he would be so angry that he would refuse to go but Albus knew better than that. He drew himself up to his full height and said, "Very well, then: listen. I take you with me on one condition: that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question."

"Of course," Harry agreed.

"Be sure to understand me, Harry. I mean that you must follow even such orders as "run", "hide" or "go back". Do I have your word?" he asked firmly.

"I - yes, of course," he said, though he didn't sound happy.

"If I tells you to hide, you will do so?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to flee, you will obey?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to leave me, and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?"

"I -" Harry said, looking surprised. Albus knew that this was a difficult promise for him to make… and even more to abide by it. But the enchantments around the Horcruxes will probably be extremely advanced dark magic. Then, there is the Horcrux itself. It can't be too easy to destroy that thing.

"Harry?" Albus asked, he wasn't playing around here. If they weren't careful, they could get killed, but he wasn't going to let Harry get hurt if he could help it. His own life meant nothing now… his time was almost up… he fought the urge to look at his hand…

Harry glared at him and finally agreed. Albus fought the sigh as he told Harry to go and fetch the Cloak and met him in the Entrance Hall in five minutes time."

As Harry left, he turned to look back out at the ruby-red glare about the window. He didn't move a muscle as he watched it all. How many times had he stood here and looked out but never really noticed how beautiful things were?

His time was almost up…

*Flashback*

Two nights ago, Albus had collapsed in his office, the pain in his body so terrible that he had to fight the urge to start screaming. He called Severus in and had been forced back into his chair as he let the Potion's Master pour at least a half a dozen potions into his mouth.

"I'm… dying…" Albus gasped, his hand was now almost useless as it dangled pitifully from his wrist. He had spent the last few minutes coughing into his other hand, and when he pulled it away to look, he could see that he had been coughing up blood.

Severus stood back, just looking at him before he said softly, "Yes, you are."

Albus sighed as he shut his eyes and leaned his head back, hating the bitter taste of blood in his mouth as he asked, "Tell me the truth. How many days do I have left?"

Severus sighed and heard him confess grimly. "Alright, I'll tell you. Ten days to two weeks from now… you'll die. Hard to guess for sure."

Albus let out a bitter chuckle. "Two weeks at most?" he asked. "That doesn't surprise me. But that should be enough time… in a couple more days I should hopefully have everything finished. I'll die and then it will all be up to Harry."

"You truly believe that boy has what it takes to do it?" Severus asked. "Even if the boy has to die, what makes you think that he'll believe me?"

"Give him the memory if you must," Albus answered grimly. "But it is essential that Harry understands. However, something tells me that he will listen."

"Ha," Severus snarled. "That boy has never trusted me. He hates me."

"And whose fault is that?" Albus asked, opening his bleary eyes at him, a knowing smile on his face.

"That's not the point!" Severus snapped. "You mean to tell me that you're really going to die like this? Leave everything else to others?"

"I have no other choice," Albus told him. "It sickens me to think of how far there is to go here, but it's what must happen."

"You already know what's going to happen though don't you?" Severus asked him curiously, "The way that you have everything planned out here."

Albus shook his head. "No, merely a guess… a prayer. And I pray that what I hope will happen, will come to pass. Everything I did this year, I did to try and prepare Harry for what happen."

"You mean that's been your big project? Trying to teach that hopeless brat to defeat him?" Severus asked mockingly. "Damn, you idiot. You think that a child has what it takes to defeat the most powerful dark wizard the world has ever known?"

"He's done it before," Albus reminded him. "I know that the odds are against us, but I want to believe that he can do this." He looked over at him and finished, "It wouldn't hurt for you to believe in him as well. I know that it's hard for you… and despite all that I've said… you refuse to change your mind about him. But please… until this war is over, forget about James Potter. Forget about who Harry's father is… we've come too far to let petty feelings blind our reason."

"Why should I listen to you?! You know me! I'm not the type to get all sentimental just because someone has a short time to live!" Severus yelled at him. "Have you ever thought that maybe you expect so much that you've taken too much for granted?"

Albus smiled. "I know I do… it is… a terrible habit that I've… never been able to outgrow. I guess… I just never seem to learn my lesson."

Severus glared at him. "What makes you think he's going to forgive you for this?"

Albus looked at him tiredly. "That's the point, Severus," he said. "I don't expect him to forgive me. In fact, I know that it's more than I deserve."

*End of Flashback*

Albus sighed heavily at the memory, feeling light-headed and exhausted as he stood there. He could feel his body slowly beginning to shut down on him. He knew that Severus's words were true… he didn't have much time left. He could feel the Dark Magic that had come from the ring Horcrux spreading throughout his body almost like a poison… he could feel his life beginning to slip away from him at last. Though, he knew this would be the outcome almost the second after he placed that retched ring on his finger.

Trying hard to block out the terrible pain that his hand was giving him. Forcing himself to think about more important matters beside the burning…

The Horcruxes… thanks to Harry, he finally got the proof that he need to see what Tom had done. He tried to focus on the task that he had to complete before his time was up. He had devoted the last few years of his life into ridding this world of Lord Voldemort, and the key to doing that were the Horcruxes.

And because of his own foolishness, he was going to die before he could see all of them destroyed. But Albus knew that there was no one to blame but himself for his moment of weakness. He got back to the castle just yesterday, and he had thought that he had finally found the hiding place of the next Horcrux…

He knew that there was a good chance that he would die tonight. And so he had to get everything ready. He left his will in a place where he knew would be easy for others to find and had hidden the sword with Severus at the moment.

Suddenly, he turned and slowly walked over to his desk and opened one of the bottom drawers so that he could look at what was inside. There, fluttering rather feebly… was a golden Snitch. His last gift… a Snitch that held the Resurrection Stone…

Albus's heart grew very heavy just by seeing it. He reached in and took the walnut sized ball in his uninjured hand, staring at it and feeling sick with himself.

He knew what it all meant. He had known for so long now… and he hated himself for knowing. He had to send one of the bravest, most brilliant students he ever had… to his death. But if all went well and he was right about the blood bond between Harry and Voldemort then Harry's death would not be final. The key though, was that Harry had to believe he would truly die. Tears fell freely from his eyes as he gripped the Snitch tightly. Harry had been through so much, experienced so much pain, seen things that were truly horrific but Albus had to put him through so much more. There was only one thing left that he could do to ease the pain of the sacrifice Harry would undoubtedly have to make.

Albus knew Harry well enough by now that he was able to make it so that Harry would not figure out the riddle until it was time: I open at the close.

Harry would hate him, he knew it; and he didn't blame him at all for it. Albus stared long and hard at the little gold ball in his hands as the wings flapped feebly against his uninjured fingers. After everything that had happened last year, his relationship with him was already very fragile. He had been careful this year—slowly wanting to build that trust back up. He even thought back to several months ago—back right after the Christmas holidays—when he told him about his meeting with Rufus Scrimgeour.

"He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's man through and through.'"

"How very rude of him."

"I told him I was."

Those few words—after everything that had happened—meant the world to him. But they also made him feel so ashamed of himself for keeping so much from him. When he thought it over, he couldn't believe what he was doing. Once he died, he would leave the fate of the wizarding world to a student who was barely of age. He would be forced to lead the charge against Voldemort and his Death Eaters—while he would leave him nothing but riddles and half-truths when he knew that Harry deserved to know everything.

He bowed his head once more, more guilty than he has been in a very long time. Harry was almost the same age as he, himself, when he had been when plotting for the opposite side in that respect.

Albus shut his eyes softly. His chest tightened, and he felt as though he had just eaten an extremely disgusting tasting Every Flavor Bean. All he could do was hope that the young boy—no, young man's—resolve will be enough. He held the little Snitch in his hand, remembering how that small and determined boy who had almost swallowed it in his first game almost six years ago. How he was now planning that same boy's end.

He let the ball fall back into the drawer and closed it with such force that the whole desk rattled.

"Forgive me…" he muttered softly. It was a plea he had uttered many times… to Ariana and so many others… and now to Harry, but he knew that it was useless, because they couldn't hear him… and even if they could it wouldn't change the pain that he had put them through. All he could do was hope that everything he planned would turn out for the best.

'But what if it didn't?' said a nasty voice in the back of his head. 'What if he guessed wrong? What if Harry wasn't able to pull it off? What if everything he thought and had planned out wouldn't go as he hoped?'

These thoughts had been plaguing his mind for months now. Ever since he learned that he had less than a year left to live, he had been questioning and second-guessing himself.

'Harry,' he thought to himself. 'You and I are a lot alike… that is why I'm now deeply afraid for you. But… no matter what happens… I hope that deep down you know that I want you to live.'

He got up and opened the window—the cool, night air drifting in—before he looked to Fawkes, who was looking at him sadly. "Should something happen to me, you're free to go where you want to," he said to him softly, stroking his feathers, "You're free now."

Fawkes let out a sad note, but it felt as if he had drunk something warm and it seemed to give him strength for the difficult task ahead. Fawkes nipped his fingers in an affectionate way and he felt as if his heart was being painfully squeezed.

"You've stuck there by me no matter what happened… for all these years," he said softly. "Thank you… so much."

He pulled his hand away, his hand now cold after leaving the hot feathers, as he swung his cloak over his shoulders.

"You really leaving… Dumbledore?" Dilys called to him as he headed to the door.

"Yes," he answered back, his hand on the doorknob. "Don't bother waiting up for me."

"Well, I won't say it's been nice knowing ya," Phineas called as the other teachers were all asking for him not to leave.

"I am touched," Albus stated. "But it'll be alright. For my final orders to you all…" he looked back to them all. "The first off is to keep quiet about anything you've heard in these past meetings… and that includes you Phineas!" he added, fighting a smile.

"And second?" Dexter asked, looking a little teary eyed.

"Keep an eye on the students for me," he said firmly. "Though, when we next meet, I'll most likely be up on the wall with all of you. It will truly be a great honor."

That earned a lot of tears and cries—especially from the Headmistress as the Headmasters let out words that he couldn't understand through all the noise. He stared around, taking one last look at the office… his eyes landing on Fawkes one last time. They gave each other a look of understanding before he smiled at the beautiful bird.

"Goodbye…" he said softly as he left with a swish of his cloak and closed the door behind him.

He made his way back down the long stairs… memories coming back to him. How many times had he walked these halls and never appreciated how magical everything was? How amazing and wondrous things were in life?

It was almost sad… now that he was about to die the littlest thing seemed so precious to him.

He had reached the doors first—surprising since it had taken him so long to say goodbye to everything. But he didn't have to wait long. Only a few seconds later he heard footsteps on the steps and he turned just as Harry skidded to the top step and saw him. He was panting hard by the time he got to him, and Albus asked him to put the cloak on before they left.

He patiently waited until Harry caught his breath and throw the cloak over his head and vanished before he asked, "Very good. Shall we go?"

He set off at once, able to pick up on Harry's own light footsteps right next to him in the still summer air.

"But what will people think when they see you leaving, Professor?" Harry's voice asked from his left side.

"That I am off into Hogsmeade for a drink," he answered lightly. "I sometimes offer Rosmerta my custom, or else visit the Hog's Head… or I appear to. It is as good a way as any of disguising one's true destination."

They made their way down the drive in the gathering twilight. The air was full of the smells of warm grass, lake water and wood smoke from Hagrid's cabin. It was difficult to believe that they were heading for anything dangerous or frightening. Harry suddenly asked if they would be Apparating and Albus confirmed it, quietly asking if he could Apparate now.

"Yes," said Harry, "but I haven't got a license."

"No matter," he said, since Harry didn't know where they were going, "I can assist you again."

They turned out of the gates into the twilit, deserted lane to Hogsmeade. Darkness descended fast as they walked and by the time they reached the High Street night was falling in earnest. Lights twinkled from windows over shops and as they neared the Three Broomsticks, they heard raucous shouting. Soon, Rosmerta appeared and threw out a wizard so that he was groaning on the ground. She looked up and spotted him, a slightly glazed look in her eyes. "Oh, hello, Albus… you're out late…" she stated.

He nodded politely

"Good evening, Rosmerta, good evening… forgive me, I'm off to the Hog's Head… no offence, but I feel like a quieter atmosphere tonight…" he told her. She didn't look the least bit fazed as she went back inside. They walked further away and soon turned the corner to a side street where they could see the Hog's Head… creaking a little.

Albus fought a sigh as he looked at it—knowing that his only family was still inside. He hoped that Aberforth was doing well as he glanced around, half hoping to see him again before speaking to Harry. "It will not be necessary for us to enter. As long as nobody sees us go… now place your hand upon my arm, Harry. There is no need to grip too hard, I am merely guiding you. On the count of three – one… two… three…"

They turned and left Hogsmeade behind them… and when they arrived, he breathed in the lungfuls of the salty air.

(How was it? It's all finally reaching the end here. The next chapter will be when they go into the retrieve the Horcrux. And I hope that you all enjoyed it. Dumbledore's death is almost here. Update again soon.)