The sweet smell invaded his nostrils as he shot up. Sitting straight, his hand going straight to his collarbone. Good, it was still there. He tried to concentrate as consciousness washed over him like a bucket of cold water. One unknown word repeating involuntarily in his mind over and over like a mantra.
"Can'-Ka no Rey" A name maybe? It certainly was familiar, but where had he heard it before?
He breathed deeply, and doing all he could to calm his nerves down, took a look around. It had to be a dream, it simply couldn't be true. Flowers. Roses. Everywhere, as far as the eyes could see. Maybe he died and this was heaven. But was there pyramids in heaven? He could see two, not too far from where he was, one to his left and one to his right. He stood up, straightening his glasses.
"Bugger" Left lens was broken. "Nothing I can't fix" he thought, going for his wand in his back pocket. It wasn't there. "Maybe it fell in between the roses."
He bent down to look, but only succeeded to prick his fingers on the thorns.
"Wait a minute" Looking closely, there was something strange about those roses. Right at the middle of their petals, a small spot glowed yellow as if is was a ridiculously small sun. It was hypnotic to say the least.
He didn't know how long he spent admiring the beauty of the "mini sun" as he now called in his head, but then, out of nowhere, as if punched by a professional boxer, it all came back to him. He was at the Ministry, there had been a fight. Sirius fell. He felt his fingers getting numb.
"Sirius" He muttered. "SIRIUS" He yelled. He should be here as well, right? "SIRIUS" he kept going, that weird name never leaving the background of his mind, like a broken record, making his head start to ache. "Can'-Ka no Rey." What the hell could that be?
The sun chastised his skin and his lips were dry. He looked up, arms protecting his eyes. Maybe he could get an approximate time and direction looking at the sun.
"What the.." Harry's mouth fell. There was light, for sure. But absolutely there was no sun. Anywhere. The sky was completely blue, not a single cloud for it to hide, and yet. No sun.
"Ok, so I'm in a place where there are small suns inside roses, but no sun in the sky." To say he was completely lost was an understatement. He got there falling through that weird curtain, so maybe he could go back by going through it again. His efforts, though, were in vain. He first tried putting his arm through what now was simply a stone archway in the middle of a rose field. No fabric moved between the pillars anymore. When putting his arm through didn't give any results, he started jumping through it. From one side to the other, over and over.
It wasn't much later when he gave up, now desperation getting to him. Wherever this strange place was, he was stuck there.
"Well, no point in staying still, I suppose" He thought, determined to get out of there as soon as possible.
Not really knowing where to go, he decided to go back to the exactly spot where he woke up, right in front of the archway and just walk straight. If he was lucky, maybe he would get somewhere. A village maybe, or maybe someone who could help him. It didn't matter to him, as long as it was anything other than roses and pyramids. With that thought in mind, he started his march.
He walked for what must have been two hours. It was hard to know with no sun. As he walked, he realized he couldn't feel the rose's thorns through his jeans anymore. In fact, he couldn't feel them at all anymore, even though they were there. It seemed like they were bowing out of his way, trying to guide his steps.
He was about to take a break to give his legs a rest when he came to a sudden stop. At the horizon, he could see something now. He couldn't distinguish what yet, but it definitely wasn't another pyramid. Excited to finally be getting somewhere, he forced his legs to work faster, pushing aside the fatigue. Soon he found out that concentrating on the mantra the little voice insisted on reciting in his head, rather than try to suppress it, eased his headache.
The figure on the horizon slowly became clearer. Now Harry could see it was a tower, all made of black stones. It reminded him of the Clermont-Ferrand's cathedral Fleur had shown him in a picture over a year earlier. He felt a pang in his heart. He always did when he thought of her. But she was with Bill now, the twins told him. She was happy. There was nothing he could do now. After all, he was the one to push her away. He put those thoughts aside, there was no point in getting depressed now. He had bigger problems now. Like getting to that tower.
Dumbledore landed in the middle of what seemed to be a clearing. He looked around as Fawkes flew from his shoulder, to perch on the remains of a tree probably long cut down. There was no doubt in his mind that the bird took him to the right place. The magic in those birds was something not even he could fathom. One of the many mysteries in the world still to be uncovered.
He slowly made his way to the stump where Fawkes landed, until something caught his eye. Right there, on the side, carved on the surface of the wood, the confirmation that his trust in the phoenix wasn't misplaced.
"Smart girl" He said, stroking the Phoenix's feathers. He bent down to examine the crude drawing. The initials MG and TR enveloped by a heart. The result of a young girl in love. Although the idea that she was the only one was sad. But he wasn't there to feel sympathy for Mérope. He needed to find where she lived.
He knew the shack was in a clearing in the middle of the woods, just like the one he was now, so he did the only sensible thing to do and marched into the trees, leaving Fawkes behind. The bird could be an immense help on what was most likely to come, but his strategic mind told him to leave her behind and have her as an insurance. If there was danger, she would know. She would come.
The sun had risen only one hour or so before and the cold morning air felt good on Dumbledore's skin, helping him forget, at least for a moment the unfortunate events from the night before. Indeed, he felt no need for a warming charm. Soon, a trail showed itself to him and he took it. A simple pathway of dirt in the middle of the trees.
Dumbledore couldn't be sure of when or how, but he suddenly took notice of the darkness that fell over him. He looked up. The treetops didn't let any light go though now. Without uttering a word, he casted the lumus charm illuminating the tip of his wand in front of him. He expected this, of course. That darkness wasn't natural, this forest wasn't supposed to be this dense. And if that said something, it was that he was right and his fears were true. And so help them God.
He kept on the trail, his ocean blue eyes paying attention to every moving thing his wand was capable of shining light on. He felt the terrain become more and more irregular as he forced forward, treading carefully. Something was telling him that if he was to trip, he wouldn't be able to get back up. There was definitely some sort of dark magic trying to keep him away from wherever he was getting to, and it would probably become a lot worse as he got closer. He was sure now that he was going to find what he came to if he persisted.
He had been waiting for the right moment, so he could bring Harry along, start his training, or at least try and teach him as much as he could, to give him the hope he needed to fight. But now he was dead, and with him, the certainty Dumbledore had that the boy was needed in the war. If Harry had died, not killed by Voldemort, but by mere chance, than the prophecy somehow was a mistake. Which meant Voldemort could be killed by anyone, and this was the first step to do that.
A noise to his side caught his attention and he mentally kicked himself for getting distracted by idle thoughts. It sounded like a soft humming coming from somewhere further into the darkness of the forest.
"Revelio" He casted already without much hope and, indeed, nothing happened. He knew he should stay on the path. If he deviated from it, there would be no return. Would Fawkes be able to find him and bring him to safety if that happened? Would any of the thousands of spells he knew be able to help him at all? Knowing Tom Riddle, the answer was simple. It may have been a mistake leaving the Phoenix behind. But now was too late, he wouldn't think of it. As long as he didn't follow the humming he should be fine.
He persevered. When the lumus charm wasn't enough to illuminate the trees beside him, he persevered. When the humming became singing, he persevered. When the singing came closer, he persevered. When the ghostly voice of Mérope Gaunt begged him to follow her amidst the verses and the goosebumps took over his arms and neck for the first time in decades, he persevered. When he started considering to follow her. He persevered.
Light. Only a white dot in the distance. The ghost – illusion, not even he was sure anymore – had given up trying to make him give up and now hope found its way back to his heart. As he got closer to the end, the dot became smaller. The trees wouldn't let their prey escape so easily. But little did they know that they were fighting the most – arguably – powerful wizard in existence. A simple flick of the wrist, and the last obstacles in his way were sent flying, leaves in the air where their supports were a mere second ago. And so he was free.
He could have been surprised if he didn't know with whom he was dealing with. It was night already, even though it didn't feel like more than three hours had passed inside the forest. The light he saw and gravely mistook for sunshine was far from it. About ten meters in front of him, the old Gaunt shack was burning, flames as high as the treetops. It wasn't fiendfyre, but those weren't normal flames either, and dealing with them without knowledge could prove itself deadly. But it wasn't like he had a choice. The ring should be somewhere inside the destroyed house, and after what he'd been through in the forest, plus the abnormal fire, it was clear he was right about what the ring was.
Raising his arms to his sides as if being crucified, and then lowering them, pointing his wand to the ground, he muttered.
"Fluctus" Small droplets of water began to form in the air, as if sucked from the trees around him and the grass beneath his feet. "Unda" The droplets frantic became like a river swirling above his head. He never had to concentrate like this to form it. Maybe the fight in the Department of Mysteries took its toll on him, or maybe he truly was just old. Concentrating even harder he completed the motion, now pointing his wand to the burning shack, the floating river was sent with immense force to its target.
The water bathed the building completely, flooding the entire area, before escaping through the woods. Dumbledore didn't have time to cheer, though, as a second later, a small spark inside the house ignited the fire once again. Water wouldn't be the solution.
"This…is…private…property." The voice struck fear into his heart. It sounded more like a tired growl, a multitude of voices overlapped, but one more distinct than the rest. It came from the hole where the shack's door used to be.
One leg appeared in the doorframe. The figure slowly making its way to the porch. The burning body of Marvolo Gaunt stepped heavily on the grass just outside his fiery home. A jet of steam shooting from beneath his feet as they connected with the remaining water on the ground. Tom had found his corpse, gave him flesh, gave him voice, gave him life. No. Not life. Just a puppet now.
"Disgusting...little...squib." Gaunt spatted full of venom. He raised his arms in front of him and Dumbledore saw small pieces of his rotten arm falling to the floor, the blood dripping from his four extended fingers.
The smell of the burning body made Dumbledore's stomach curl as he fought the need to throw up. Water didn't work against those flames and conjuring wind could have the opposite effect and make it stronger. He pointed his wand straight ahead, conjuring a concussive spell that sent the dead puppet flying full speed to the side of the burning shack. He knew that wouldn't do anything, but he needed time for the next one. In magic, fire could bring life just as much as it could destroy it. He needed to put it out and magic or not, fire was fire and without oxygen it couldn't burn. He began making small shapes of eight all around him with his wand. The grotesque puppet was already back on its feet, as if nothing had happened and making his way back to Dumbledore.
"filthy...muggle...my...own...daughter..." His heavy steps began to get quicker, completely oblivious to the dirt starting to collect above his head.
Dumbledore now had both his hands above his head, concentrating to gather as much of dirt as he could. If he couldn't kill what was already dead, then he would bury it instead. The flame zombie was closing in now, he had no time anymore, it would have to do.
"PONDUS TERRAM." He shouted, releasing in a second half a ton of dirt and rocks that went plummeting full force over Gaunt, his past insults buried with him.
Dumbledore bent over, hands over knees to try and catch his breath for a moment. If he wasn't so old, this would have been finished much quicker and without sweat. But he had no time to berate himself. In a sudden explosion, the small hill made of dirt and rocks went flying in every direction. He managed to cast a shield in the last second. It couldn't be. As the dust settled, the figure of Marvolo Gaunt stood there, in front of him, still on fire, still cursing.
"Die...Mérope...whore..." The last words spatted with more hate than all the others.
He didn't know what to do anymore. He was exhausted, every year of his life weighing on his shoulders. That's when the singing could be heard. Looking up, Dumbledore let a small smile find its way to his lips. His trusted friend came to him. It must have taken all this time for her to break through the defenses around the area, but she did it. Marvellous creature. Without even looking to her master, Fawkes dived full speed, bursting into a coat of flames and hitting the puppet square in the chest.
"Die...why..." were his last words, with such sadness that almost made Dumbledore feel sorry for the man. Almost.
Both Fawkes and Gaunt were sent flying inside the house, where a huge burst of fire could be seen coming out from every window. And then, no more fire. The carcass of the once home of the Gaunts now stood shyly in the middle of the clearing, ready to collapse at any moment. Dumbledore didn't waste any time. In seconds he was in the living room.
Nothing inside. Whatever the family had was lost in the fire. Only a skeleton could be seen in a corner.
"Morfin" He muttered. For some reason, Voldemort didn't want his uncle to burn. Maybe to remind him whenever he came back to check on his soul, where his true roots were. To keep him grounded. Who could know?
Two meters in front of him, a small baby bird freed itself from a pile os ashes on the ground. He kneeled to help it.
"Thank you, old friend. Thank you" He said softly, carefully putting the baby phoenix in a pocket on his robes.
Something caught his eyes. A glint to his left. The ring Marvolo used to wear in life with such pride, now laid in the middle of a ruined house. He picked it up. Not wanting to spend one more second in there, he disapparated. There were no more barriers protecting the clearing.
He stepped in his office, exhausted from the day he had had. Pulling the chair to sit, he reached his hand to a bowl over his desk to help himself to a sweet. Something to help him cope with what he had seen. That's when he realized. He had put the ring on.