Chapter 33 – Disturbing Revelations
The days following the ball were quiet at the manor. Hermione was still staying with them preserving the usual trio of friends, of course with Gabrielle tagging along devotedly. In addition, Susan stayed with them throughout that week before school once again began. Though Madam Bones had originally intended to retrieve her niece after only one night, the events at the ball, as well as some of the new measures she was implementing with the Auror office saw her working long hours at the Ministry. Thus, the original plan was converted to a request for the Delacours to host Susan until she was to return to Hogwarts, a plan to which Jean-Sebastian and Apolline had readily assented.
Susan was in fact a good addition. She was intelligent and thoughtful, and fit in with them seamlessly. Often, Harry found himself outnumbered by the girls, as they talked and laughed and spoke of things which did not interest him. And though he often wished that Ron or Neville were staying at the manor, he still felt comfort in their friendship and presence and was able to sit back and allow his mind to wander when they moved to topics in which only they had an interest.
Unfortunately, in the days after the events at the ball, nothing further had come to light regarding the attack. Rufus Scrimgeour—the head Auror—and Madam Bones had their Aurors working closely with those who guarded the manor, but it appeared that the perpetrator had hidden his tracks very well indeed. It was still early in the investigation, but it was quickly becoming clear that catching whoever had initiated the attack would be difficult. Personally, Harry was all for pumping Malfoy with Veritaserum until it began running out of his ears to get the truth from him, but knowing it was not about to happen, he contented himself with daydreaming of the man finally getting his comeuppance.
Malfoy's complicity with the attack had been further proven to Harry's mind when he had been awakened later the night of the ball—not long after going to bed, in fact—by a surge of triumph from the Dark Lord, not that Harry required such confirmation. Clearly Malfoy—or whoever had actually cast the curse—had returned to Voldemort's side and reported his success, leading to the emotion which woke him. He had waited until the following morning to report his experience to Jean-Sebastian, rightly deciding that they were all tired and there was no rush. He knew that Jean-Sebastian was still to meet with the blond Pureblood, and while the confrontation with Malfoy would not in any way be cordial and Malfoy was obviously a skilled and dangerous man, Jean-Sebastian was every bit his equal in confidence and skill—the disgusting Pureblood was in for a very rude awakening if he tried to intimidate the head of the Delacour family.
Of further concern, Jean-Sebastian's staff was now operating under a handicap. With his chief of security, Jacques, now dead and the second in command, Gaston, incapacitated and recovering in France, it was unsurprising that the security detail was a little demoralized and disorganized. Jean-Sebastian had not mentioned what he planned to do for the future, but Harry suspected that he would not allow the situation to continue for long.
It was the second day of the new year when an event occurred which was to change Harry's life once again. With the events at the ball, the Headmaster's request to speak with him had largely been forced from Harry's mind, contrary to what he would have thought upon first hearing the request. Thus, when he received Jean-Sebastian's request to join him in his study, Harry at once thought of Dumbledore and his words the night of the ball, assuming the Headmaster was here to speak with him.
With more curiosity than dread, Harry entered the study, noting the presence of not only Dumbledore and Jean-Sebastian, but also of Sirius as well. He was greeted cheerfully and invited to take a seat. A round of small talk—how he was enjoying his vacation, what he had done, etc—ensued, though fortunately for Harry's growing impatience, it did not continue long, as Dumbledore soon came to the point.
"Now Harry," Dumbledore began, peering at Harry intently, "you can probably guess that I did not ask to meet with you to discuss your holidays." When Harry nodded in assent, he resumed speaking, "In fact, I have some serious matters to discuss today, matters which are particularly of concern to you."
Glancing around the room, Harry noticed the almost grim expressions on the faces of both Jean-Sebastian and Sirius. A sinking feeling began in his stomach—clearly whatever Dumbledore had to discuss was not some trivial matter and his original instinct of this being very bad news had been correct. He swallowed thickly and nodded to Dumbledore to come to the point.
"Very well," Dumbledore responded. "Before we begin, however, I wish to make two things very clear to you. The first is that you are surrounded by many who love you and wish the best for you—whatever you are required to face in life, you shall not do it alone.
"And second, I wish to make it very clear to you that you have not heard of this matter yet by my insistence. If you feel that you have been ill-used because this information has been withheld, then it is my fault and mine alone—Jean-Sebastian and Sirius are not to be blamed. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, wondering why Dumbledore was insisting on this. He trusted the men in this room and could not imagine that they would keep him in the dark if it would put him in danger. Of course he wished to know everything which may affect him, but he doubted there was anything for which he would hold a grudge. Surely it could not be that bad!
"Good," was Dumbledore's response. He then sat back and his eyes lost focus as he seemingly considering what he was going to say. A glance at the other two men did not reveal anything, though Sirius did attempt to lighten the atmosphere a little by winking and smiling at him. Harry returned his smile with a halfhearted effort of his own.
"Harry, do you remember when you asked me why Voldemort was after you?"
Momentarily confused by this seeming non-sequitur, Harry nevertheless recalled the incident immediately. "After the confrontation with Quirrel."
"Yes, exactly," replied Dumbledore. "I told you at that time that I could not answer you because you were too young. In some ways, I must admit I still feel that way. However, Jean-Sebastian and Sirius have convinced me otherwise and as you have shown much maturity in the past several months, I have agreed that now is the time to answer your question."
Surprised, Harry sat back in his chair. If he had thought anything in advance of this meeting, it was certainly not that he was about to learn the answer to the question which stood at the center of his messed up life. He felt conflicted—elated that he would finally learn the secret, while apprehensive at the same time. Still, it was knowledge, and fitting a missing piece into the puzzle of his life could only be good.
"You see, Harry, the great mystery of your connection to Voldemort is that of a prophecy, which was made before you were born."
Harry frowned. "A prophecy? I don't know, sir, Divination seems kind of dodgy if you ask me."
"Indeed you are correct," Dumbledore replied, chuckling. "Divination, as my dear colleague Professor McGonagall would say, is a woolly discipline, and I would have to agree with her. For a time, I had actually considered dropping Divination from the curriculum of Hogwarts.
"However, prophecy—true prophecy—is real. It is not a skill which can be taught, nor is it a skill which can be controlled, and true prophecy will not be given in your Divination class using the methods Professor Trelawney's class. True seers have no control over their gift—they divulge prophecy when the time is right, and they only proclaim a specific prophecy once. Furthermore, when a seer is gripped by the prophetic influence, they speak without realizing it, and can never remember that which he or she has prophesied."
"Then what happens if they give it when no one else is around?"
"A very good question, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "If there is no one there to listen, then the prophecy would presumably be lost. However, there is an ancient magic which encompasses the world. When a prophecy is given this magic detects it, and a record is created in the Department of Mysteries."
"Any prophecy from around the world?" Harry asked, frowning.
"Indeed. The magic does not distinguish national boundaries and languages."
"The origins and secrets of how to create this magic have been lost to time, Harry," Jean-Sebastian spoke up. "However, it is known to be accurate. It is also relatively easy to tap in to it, and that is something which has not been lost to us. There is a similar department in the French Ministry which also records prophecies, and many other countries do so as well."
"Then, does that mean that there is a record of this prophecy in the Ministry?" Harry asked. "As well as one in France?"
"There is, indeed," Dumbledore confirmed. "There are also copies in many locations around the world. We cooperate with other nations to ensure that prophecies are not lost. I will not go into it in any great detail, but suffice it to say that any prophecy that has ever been made has been recorded for posterity's sake.
"Now, as you may or may not be aware, prophecy even in its simplest form is never a direct statement on what will happen. Unfortunately, it is never given in plain language. For example, you will never see a prophecy which predicts that you will win this year's Quidditch Cup—rather, you may be given a series of cryptic statements which suggest you will win the cup if certain actions are undertaken."
Thinking about the matter for several moments, Harry thought back to a series of books he had read at the library when he was younger. The series had been a typical good against evil type fantasy story, and as he recalled it had depended heavily on the type of obscure prophecy of which Dumbledore had been speaking. As he recalled, the prophecy in that work was largely based on the ravings of a madman—he dearly hoped that was not the case in real life. He considered bringing it up, but rejected it, thinking that Dumbledore would let him know if that supposition was true.
"So, a prophecy is difficult to understand," he suggested hesitantly.
"That is correct, Harry," agreed the Headmaster. "We may make educated guesses, we may see patterns, and we may understand a certain portion of a prophecy by study, knowledge, and even a bit of guesswork. However, the true meaning of any prophecy will almost certainly be completely understood, only after the events it predicts have happened."
Harry frowned—something the Headmaster said earlier pricked his memory and he thought about it for several moments before he finally spoke again. "I'm sorry, Professor, but something doesn't quite add up. You said that a prophecy is a series of statements which may occur, given the proper sequence of events. Isn't prophecy a prediction of what will happen?"
"A very good question again, Harry," the Headmaster said with an approving smile. "Though we are getting rather far afield, I shall indulge you once more before we delve into the matter at hand. You see," he continued conversationally, "there are two different types of prophecy.
"First, you may recall that I stated that a prophecy is never a direct statement." Harry indicated that he did, and Dumbledore carried on. "The first type of prophecy is indeed a statement about what will happen, despite of any efforts to the contrary. However, because it is never a direct statement, it can be open to interpretation, regardless of the fact that nothing we do can change it."
Harry frowned in thought. "But professor, doesn't that mean that people may still try to change it, regardless of the fact that they cannot?"
"That is exactly what I am saying, Harry," confirmed the Headmaster. "The subject of prophecy becomes even more difficult when I tell you that the second kind of prophecy is a series of statements of what might happen given the proper series of events."
His head swimming at the complexity of what Dumbledore was trying to explain, Harry frowned and then looked back up at the three men with whom he was speaking. "It seems to me that a lot of havoc could be created with this sort of uncertainty, sir."
"An excellent supposition!" Dumbledore replied. "You are indeed correct, Harry. History is rife with instances where a prophecy was misunderstood—people have spent years trying to avoid a prophecy which was unavoidable, and conversely, others have spent similar amounts of time trying to ensure a particular prophecy came to pass, often based on an incorrect understanding of what exactly that prediction entailed. These prophecies are often referred to as being 'self-fulfilled prophecies'. The events depicted may never have happened if they had not interfered, and in many cases, it would have been better had the end result not happened, as it was not what the person expected it to be, nor was it in any way beneficial. Prophecy is indeed a very delicate phenomenon, and must be treated with extreme care."
"Then can I assume that you can't tell if a prophecy is inevitable or not until after the prophecy has been fulfilled?" Harry asked.
"Unfortunately, even then it is not easy." Dumbledore paused and rubbed his chin. "After all, if a lot of effort has been put into making sure a prophecy came to pass, who can say that it would have occurred anyway? That part of the equation is something which is almost never completely understood."
As the explanation wound down, Harry thought about what the Headmaster had said. Dumbledore had said that a prophecy had been made before his birth, but had not in fact mentioned what type of prophecy it was or even if it had been fulfilled. Harry felt that the logical assumption was that it had not been fulfilled—otherwise, why would the headmaster be speaking of it now? Furthermore, the idea that this prophecy existed at all filled Harry with a certain dread—it was equally obvious that the prophecy concerned him in some way, otherwise they would not be about to share it with him.
It would make sense, he mused, if there was some sort of prophecy out there which had totally screwed with his life. Otherwise he would just have to assume that there was some deity who was determined to make him miserable. The idea of a prophecy was much easier to swallow and, more importantly, gave him a fighting chance to survive.
"I assume that the prophecy was about me then?" he asked, turning his attention back to the three men.
"It was indeed, Harry," the Headmaster confirmed.
Harry considered the matter further. The faces confronting him were serious, but not overly morose, which could be interpreted as a good sign. It would at least indicate that it had not predicted his outright death at the hands of the madman, though that too would be apropos given his luck—Harry Potter, required to die so that the Dork Lord could be defeated. He would not put it past fate to require such a sacrifice from him.
"Well, I suppose there's nothing else to do," he replied. "Lay it on me—then we'll figure out what to do."
"A true Gryffindor," Dumbledore proclaimed proudly. "You truly are an exceptional young man, Harry, and though I am indeed sorry for laying this burden on you, I agree with Jean-Sebastian and Sirius that it is one which you are able to bear."
Harry glanced at the other two men and, seeing their encouraging nods, returned his attention to the Headmaster. "I think I'm ready, sir."
A short pause ensued, leading Harry to surmise that Dumbledore truly would prefer not to be required to impart this information. He only stopped for a moment, though, before he began speaking. For the first time, Harry listened, and to a certain extent—through the obscure statements, began to understand why he had been targeted by Voldemort.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
As Dumbledore's voice quieted, Harry's brow furrowed in thought. The Headmaster had not been kidding when he said that prophecy was never given in clear, forthright language. Regardless, Harry thought he could detect an understated cadence in the words, almost as though they were speaking to him, though that was not quite the right analogy. Whatever it was, Harry, though he did not immediately understand everything the prophecy contained—as Dumbledore had warned him—nonetheless knew that it concerned him. How he was certain of this he could not say, but subconsciously, he knew it was so. Hopefully, whatever the Headmaster could explain would help make the prediction easier to comprehend.
"You weren't kidding when you said it wasn't clear," he quipped, trying to break the mood in the room a little.
"No, I was not," Dumbledore agreed. "Yet it contains certain phrases and events which give us clues to unraveling it."
"So," Harry began slowly, "which kind of prophecy is it?"
"That's the question, is it not?" Dumbledore asked rhetorically. "Arguments can be made either way and only in hindsight will we gain further understanding, though even then it will not be perfectly understood. As for this specific prophecy, I very much fear that though it may have been conditional in the beginning, that now it is very much set in stone, as they say."
"How do you mean?"
"The prophecy was given just before you were born, and though it did not initially point to you in particular, subsequent events have confirmed that you are indeed the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. Your parents having defied Voldemort three times made you a candidate, but there was one other who was born under similar circumstances, who also could have been the one mentioned in the prophecy."
"Do I know this other person?"
"Indeed you do. In fact, you share the same dorm at Hogwarts."
Frowning, Harry thought of the four boys with whom he shared a dorm, before it came to him—it was obvious. "Neville!" he exclaimed.
"That is correct Harry. Though you may not know this, your births were only about an hour apart, though on different days. There was very little to distinguish between you."
This was all giving Harry a headache, but underneath it all made a strange sense. Neville had never been what he would call a close friend—Ron and Hermione filled those roles—but he had always felt a strange kinship for the young man. Was this the reason? And if their births had been so close, why was Dumbledore now certain that the prophecy concerned him rather than Neville? Other than the obvious fact that Voldemort seemed to be obsessed with him, of course…
Upon voicing this question, Dumbledore sighed and glanced at both the other men. It was Sirius who reached over and, lifting the fringe of Harry's hair, answered his question. "It's because of your scar, Harry."
"The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal," Dumbledore intoned. "It is that third line which tells us so much more, Harry, and I will endeavor to explain to you how it came about."
The Headmaster sat back in his chair, but though his eyes never left him, Harry was almost certain that he was wrapped up in his thoughts, presumably trying to determine how to present the information that he held. Jean-Sebastian and Sirius still considered him gravely, but they were also projecting an air of support and affection. It warmed Harry, knowing that whatever was to come, he would not have to face it alone.
"A strange quirk of fate intervened with this particular prophecy," Dumbledore continued after a few moments of silence. "Though of course I cannot state for certain, the circumstances surrounding its coming to light may indeed mean that there was no way to avoid it from the start. I simply cannot say for certain. What I can tell you is that I was the one to whom the prophecy was given."
Harry blinked—that was unexpected. "To you, sir?" he queried.
A tight nod met his question. "It was. I had been giving an interview for the position of Divination professor at Hogwarts when it was given. Unfortunately, a young Death Eater overheard part of the prophecy, and hastened to tell his master, which drew Voldemort's attention upon you and Neville."
Sitting back, Dumbledore continued to speak, though his tone was more introspective than focused. "I have often wondered what he was thinking, to be drawn into prophecy like this. The Tom Riddle I knew was pragmatic and intelligent, and openly disdained fate and any form of predestination. I would not have thought that he would have given much credence to such a vague warning.
"But then I suppose the part that was overheard appeared to be much clearer than the entirety put together. That may have forced him to act, regardless of whether he wished to or not, and it is his actions which have brought us to this point."
"What did the Death Eater overhear?" Harry asked quietly.
"Only the first two lines, my boy," replied Dumbledore. "Thus, he heard the prediction of your birth and that you would have the power to defeat his master, but failed to hear that Voldemort would mark you as his equal and the rest of it. If he had heard that part, Voldemort would undoubtedly have acted more cautiously."
It all seemed so odd. A small quirk of fate, an overheard conversation, and suddenly the attention of a madman was fixed upon him. Or fixed upon Neville? Why had Voldemort come after his family instead of Neville's? He surely must have known when Neville was born, if he was aware that Lily Potter had given birth.
"But why me?" Harry asked. All at once aware of the fact that his question could be considered a tad whiny, he modified his question. "Why did he choose me over Neville?"
"Ah, that we will never know," Dumbledore replied. "It may just be because you were the first opportunity which fell into his lap. You are aware of Pettigrew's betrayal, of course." At Harry's nod he continued. "Though the Longbottoms were attacked a few days after Voldemort's defeat, it is possible that they had not been compromised yet. Or, it is possible that you were closer, or that any number of other circumstances played into his decision. We will never know unless he chooses to reveal his thoughts, something I believe is highly unlikely."
"You've got that right," Harry muttered.
"However, the fact of the matter is that he did choose you and as such, it is now clear that you are the one who the prophecy refers to. There is now no longer any question."
"Because of my scar."
"Because of your scar," the Headmaster confirmed. "To be honest, I am personally of the belief that it referred to you anyway, though that is really neither here nor there. The fact that he attacked and marked you removes all doubt."
"So if I understand this correctly, it's kill or be killed," Harry stated.
"That is one way to interpret it," Dumbledore agreed, "but I would caution you not to assume you know exactly what it means. The prophecy only states that you have the power to defeat him, not the exact manner in how it may be accomplished."
"But it also means that he has an equal chance of defeating me," Harry pointed out.
"I cannot refute that possibility," Dumbledore allowed. "However, do not become caught up in the thought that you have to kill him. The interpretation is open to many things. For example, you could sneeze, causing a wind to spring up, which would eventually lead to a storm, a lightning strike on a tree, which topples and kills him."
"Like that will bloody happen," Harry snarked.
"I don't disagree," the Headmaster said amiably, ignoring Harry's language. "I was not intending to be realistic, just to point out that many strange things happen in this world. Fate may have another manner in ensuring the Dark Lord's defeat than what seems easy to understand."
"Fate may also intend for him to win," Harry said morosely.
"Now, let's not be morbid, shall we?" Jean-Sebastian spoke up. "Take heart, Harry—the prophecy does state that you will have the power to defeat him. Certainly it does not say that you will, but you should not assume that you will lose to him."
"But he's powerful and has a lot more experience than I have."
"And you are powerful and have a drive I've rarely seen in someone so young," Sirius responded. "Have a little faith, Harry, and hang on to hope."
"Thinking positively can change your perspective on many things," Dumbledore added. "We're all here to help you, as are Miss Delacour, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and all your other friends. Regardless of what the prophecy actually says, do not believe for a single moment that we would all abandon you to face your fate alone. And besides, it may be even more comforting for you to think that the fact that a prophecy was given at all seems to indicate that you are destined to be victorious. I do not put a whole lot of stock into predestination, but it is still comforting and better to hold positive thoughts."
Taking a deep breath, Harry forced closed his eyes and willed himself to calm. It was not easy—not every day did you find out that you had to kill a dark lord or be killed yourself!—but the thought of his friends and their support was indeed comforting.
"I understand," he finally said, forcing a smile to his face. "I think I need some time to think about this, though."
He sat in silence for several moments, thinking about what he had just learned. It was a shock, but on a certain level it was not entirely unexpected. His life was far too strange and contrary to rule out anything, really.
Harry had been thinking for several moments when he became aware of the uncomfortable silence which had settled over the room. The three men were still regarding him gravely, giving Harry to understand that something was amiss. A pit appeared in the middle of his stomach at the thought that there could be something still worse than this prophecy.
"What? Don't tell me that there is another prophecy that says I have to die to defeat him."
"No, Harry, there is not," Dumbledore said, the disapproval evident in his voice. "I would ask you not to joke about such a serious matter."
Now he was truly concerned—there was more. And it had become increasingly clear that it was no better than what he had already been told.
"There is something else indeed, Harry," Dumbledore intoned. "It is only connected peripherally with the prophecy, however, and only because Voldemort decided to take action because of hearing of the prophecy."
"Is it really that bad?" Harry asked with considerable trepidation. Though hearing of a prophecy which foretold that you had to defeat a powerful dark wizard or die yourself had not seemed to truly faze his companions, they were now downright grim. It was making him extremely nervous.
"Let us say that it is not good," Dumbledore said after hesitating slightly. "I shall tell you, but I would ask that you hear me out completely before you react to this news. Let us discuss it rationally."
Not trusting his voice to remain steady, Harry merely nodded, feeling an impending doom, or rather like an axe was about to fall on his head.
"Let me begin by explaining that there is a branch of magic known as 'soul magic'. It is not very useful—and not very well known—and has almost no practical application for the most part. However, suffice it to say that though the Muggles have speculated that we each have a soul, magic has proven this fact.
"Now, I say that soul magic has almost no practical application," Dumbledore continued, his tone even, but very serious and focused. "There are methods, for example, of gaining an imprecise estimation of how powerful a person is, as a person's magical power is thought to originate from the soul. Not exactly useful, but to the right person, certainly interesting.
"But though I have stated that most soul magic has little application, there are uses which not only do have a practical application, but are also among the foulest and darkest of magics known to man. Unfortunately, as you have likely already guessed, it is one of these spells that I am obliged to discuss with you."
Sitting back once again in his chair, Dumbledore sighed and passed a weary hand over his face. It was clear to Harry that even speaking of this was draining to the Headmaster, and if it was so, this "vile magic" to which he was referring, must be disgusting indeed. The fact that it was apparently tied to him was something which Harry did not truly wish to think about—at least not until he knew exactly of what the Headmaster was speaking.
"The specific magic of concern to us today, is that of a horcrux," Dumbledore finally said, and though he appeared determined to continue, his hesitance was obvious. Harry briefly had a fleeting, and somewhat silly, thought that even the name evoked a sense of horror, had he not already understood that they were not speaking of a garden variety cleaning spell.
"A horcrux, simply described, is a soul container," Dumbledore continued. "You may ask what a soul container is, other than a normal container, which is, of course, a physical body. Essentially, it is a vessel for a portion of the caster's soul to be stored. And though the casting extracts a horrible price, the benefit for the caster is to grant an… immunity, for want of a better term, to passing on. Now, I wish to be clear about this—the horcrux does not grant immortality, nor does it prevent death. However, if a person has an active horcrux, their spirit will remain tethered to this world as long as the horcrux exists."
"Then that must be how Voldemort didn't die!" Harry exclaimed.
Dumbledore nodded, a smile appearing on his weathered face. "Exactly correct, Harry. In fact, I believe that you have already had contact with a horcrux belonging to Voldemort."
"I have?" asked Harry, confused as to when such a thing could have occurred.
"Think back to your second year," Dumbledore prompted. "When you fought the basilisk in the chamber and rescued Miss Weasley, what appeared to be the cause of the problem?"
"The diary!" Harry cried out. "But I destroyed that, and Voldemort's shade disappeared. How can he have come back?"
"Because I believe that he did not create just one." Silence fell over the room as Dumbledore's statement reverberated throughout the room. "In fact," he continued after a moment, "I believe that he likely created several. It is certain that he created at least one more, given the fact that he has now managed to return himself to a body, but knowing Tom Riddle as I did and understanding his fascination for certain things, I suspect he made a specific number, and that he chose a magically significant number. You may not know, not having chosen the Arithmancy elective, but certain numbers are magically significant. Among those numbers, are three, seven, and thirteen."
Harry was aghast. "So he may have as many as twelve more of these things lying around?"
Gravely, Dumbledore nodded his head. "I doubt there are twelve. The creation of each horcrux exacts a toll on its maker, making him less human and more prone to unsavory and unwanted traits. And beyond that, I doubt a soul could withstand so much breakage as to perform the ritual thirteen times.
"Rather, I suspect that he may have made six in total—six horcruxes, and the master piece of the soul yet in the body. Seven is a magical number as potent as thirteen, and would provide a number of horcruxes which would not render him mortal had someone come across one and destroyed it by chance, yet enough that he would feel secure and safe. I cannot tell you exactly how Tom became so obsessed with death and the desire to stave it off, but he has. I can tell you that it is the one thing he fears above all others."
Harry sat silently considering. It was so much worse than he had ever imagined—not only was the insane psychopath after him, but he was also an immortal, insane psychopath! If he was un-killable while his horcruxes existed, then whatever chance Harry might have thought he had against him just went out the window.
"Now I wish for you to understand a few more things before we get to the heart of the matter."
"You mean these horcruxes aren't the worst?" Harry demanded with a gasp.
"As vile as they are, unfortunately not," Dumbledore confirmed. "I would ask your indulgence for another moment so you may understand fully how truly disgusting these creations are."
When Harry nodded his assent—though inside he was a mass of churning emotions—and Dumbledore continued. "The first thing you must know is that the creation of a horcrux requires a sacrifice. As Madam Bones pointed out, sacrifice is a staple of such rituals. It also requires an act so heinous that the soul will become fractured, for want of a better term, so that the piece of the soul may be drawn from the body and installed inside the intended object.
"Now, I have no knowledge of exactly what is required in order to prepare a vessel for the piece of soul, nor do I wish to obtain such knowledge. What is important to understand is that the vessel is prepared, and then the person fractures their soul by committing a most grievous crime—the person murders another in cold blood. They then complete the spell to extract the piece of soul to the object, which becomes a horcrux."
"That's… rather unpleasant," Harry muttered.
"I believe it is beyond unpleasant," Dumbledore replied. "Regardless, that is in a broad sense the process one must invoke to create a horcrux. The other thing you need to understand is that a horcrux is generally indestructible by normal means."
Frowning, Harry protested, "But I destroyed the diary easily enough."
"Ah, but you used one of the only known substances capable of harming it," Dumbledore said. "Basilisk venom is among the most toxic substances known to wizards, and as the fang was liberally coated in it, the fang was sufficient to destroy it."
That was a lucky happenstance! Harry was not eager to contemplate what might have happened had he tried to destroy the diary by any other means. Though the pain had been excruciating and the feeling of the venom working its way through his body like fire in his veins, it seemed that it had been a good thing that the basilisk had managed to bite him, otherwise, Voldemort might have returned two years earlier, and Harry undoubtedly would not have survived.
"You may not be familiar with the properties of magical objects," Dumbledore continued, oblivious to Harry's thoughts, "but as a goblin-made weapon, the Sword of Gryffindor is a weapon which imbibes substances which make it stronger. As it has now come in contact with basilisk venom, the sword is now an even deadlier weapon than before. It will be our prime tool for destroying Voldemort's horcruxes when we begin that task. The only other method reliably known to be able to destroy them is fiendfyre, which is not something which should be cast indiscriminately."
"Do you know what his other horcruxes are?" Harry asked, though to his own ears it sounded like a demand. This whole conversation appeared to be akin to something directly from a second rate horror movie, and Harry was desperate for some good news.
Seeming to catch on to Harry's mood, Dumbledore smiled and said in a reassuring tone, "I have been researching Tom Riddle for years, tracking his movements where I can, and studying him to the best of my ability. I believe that I know more about him than perhaps anyone else alive. I have begun to investigate leads on the location and nature of his horcruxes, but unfortunately it is slow going, and will likely take more time and effort to learn more of them."
At this, Dumbledore seemed to hesitate, as though he did not wish to continue. A quick glance at the other two men revealed the expressions they had worn since the beginning of this meeting. Abruptly, Harry realized that whatever Dumbledore was about to divulge, this was the point of the day's discussion. He was about to discover the worst of the whole mess, and given the subject matter, Harry could feel the welling fear in the pit of his stomach, telling him that it would be beyond bad.
"In fact, Harry, I am forced to tell you today that I believe I do indeed know the location and composition of another horcrux, much to my everlasting regret." The ancient wizard paused, once again seeming to show every one of his substantial number of years. He then looked up and caught Harry's eye and spoke resolutely. "It is you, Harry," he said quietly. "I believe that you are one of Voldemort's horcruxes."
"I am a horcrux?"
"Yes. Or more accurately speaking, I believe your scar is a horcrux."
Harry stared back at the headmaster, his eyes widening with disbelief and revulsion. "But—but… Are you serious?" he demanded once he had found control of his voice.
"Unfortunately, I am," was Dumbledore's sad reply. "Do not believe that I would inform you of such an appalling thing if I was not confident of my findings."
"Then you may be wrong?" Harry said, clinging to the hope that it was just a horrible mistake. "You don't know for certain?"
"I do not, and yes there is a possibility that I may be wrong, though I do not think so."
Rising, Harry began pacing the room furiously, compelled by the sudden nervous energy which had shot through him upon Dumbledore's statement. It was not true. It could not be true! However could such a ghastly thing be residing in him? How could it even have happened in the first place?
"I take it this is not a conclusion you have suddenly come to?" he said as he stopped and stared as his energy gave way to sudden anger.
"It is not," Dumbledore confirmed calmly.
"Harry," Jean-Sebastian spoke up, "I must tell you that I also have known for some months now. I know that I promised to divulge everything I knew to you and in this I failed. I apologize to you most heartily."
"And in the end, the decision was mine," Dumbledore intervened with an iron firmness which reminded one why he was arguably, the preeminent wizard in the world.
"Why?" Harry asked. "Why would you all keep such a thing from me? If it's even true."
"Is it not a burden, Harry?"
The quiet voice of the Headmaster reverberated through the room, and Harry was forced to an abrupt stop. "None like I've ever imagined," Harry admitted.
"That is why you were not told. You don't tell an eleven-year-old child that he hosts a portion of a maniac's soul—he would not be strong enough to handle the burden. Besides, though I had always guessed that Voldemort was not gone for good, it was only after you destroyed the diary that I had begun to suspect exactly what he had done. It has been more years of study since that event to bring me to this conclusion, and I do not come to it lightly, I assure you."
"But how can you be certain?"
Dumbledore sighed and motioned to Harry's chair. "Please sit, Harry, and I will tell you." When Harry had—grudgingly—returned to his seat, the ancient man continued his explanation. "Of course I cannot be completely certain, as no spell exists which can confirm the existence of a horcrux. Basic scans do detect an aura about your scar which is certainly suspicious."
"Why would Voldemort want to make me into a horcrux?" a bewildered Harry asked.
"I do not believe that he did intend to do so," the Headmaster responded. "I believe, rather, that he had intended to make a horcrux from your death. A very strange thing happened, though, and you survived his killing curse."
Harry frowned. "I've always wondered about that," Harry admitted. "If there were no surviving witnesses, then how do you know that I survived a killing curse?"
"We don't, exactly," Dumbledore stated. "What we have is a series of circumstances which lead us to believe that you did. Voldemort kills using the killing curse, and by no other means. Only he could tell you why, but I believe it to be, again, largely symbolic; a statement that somehow he is above the law, and that he disdains those laws, such as those concerning Unforgiveables, that the rest of us are bound by. Thus, it is almost inconceivable that he would attempt to kill you by any other means.
"Then, we have the fact that your scar is an anomaly. You obviously did not receive it by means of a cutting curse, or any other such relatively benign spell, but it shows none of the traces of any other known spell, dark or otherwise. It is therefore, my opinion, that Voldemort tried to kill you using the killing curse, but that you were protected by your mother. She sacrificed herself, using that sacrifice as a means of protection for you, though I do not know what ritual she would have used. Your mother was very intelligent—perhaps she came across something she used to protect you, or perhaps she designed something on her own.
"In addition, it is obvious that Voldemort had prepared the ritual and vessel for the horcrux, I believe intending to complete the spell once he had murdered you—a sort of symbolic statement about defeating what he believed would eventually become his greatest enemy. But with your mother's protection, his curse backfired, disembodying him. The deaths of your mother and father had already fractured his soul, and the fragment latched on to the nearest source of magical energy—you."
"And what else makes you believe I am a horcrux?" he asked quietly.
"Many things. The aura I disclosed to you earlier, the reaction and pain in your scar you have always had in his presence, the connection you appear to have with him. All of these things support my theory. I am sorry, Harry. I would be extremely happy to be proven wrong, but I believe that is not likely."
It made a certain amount of mad sense Harry had to admit, though he would rather admit just about anything else. Weariness settled over him and though he tried not to think about the implications of what he had been told, one thing seemed clear.
"I have to die, don't I?" Harry blurted out, cringing to himself as he did so. It was not a Gryffindor thing to be whining about hardships. Gryffindors charge forward, after all. Only right now, he did not really feel like charging anywhere in any manner. "Sorry, sir," he said immediately after. "It does no good to dwell on it."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Sirius said, moving closer to Harry's chair and placing his hand on Harry's shoulder. "This is a lot to take in, Harry, and I'd be pretty worried if you were not devastated by all of this."
"And in answer to your question, Harry," Dumbledore broke in, "I do not know how to remove it. Yet!"
Harry's head whipped up and he peered at the Headmaster intently. "What do you mean?"
"I believe I have explained before, Harry, that all magic has a counter, and just because it has not yet been discovered, does not mean it does not exist. I have been researching horcruxes extensively for many months now, ever since you destroyed the diary and I began to suspect the existence of the horcrux in your scar.
"And there may be other sources as well. The horcrux is actually an ancient Egyptian spell, and though references to it here are sparse, as right-minded people have been destroying them for centuries, we may have more luck finding more information there than here. I shall have to think on it."
"So, we may be able to get rid of it?" Harry asked hopefully.
"There is always a way to counter a spell," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "We just need to find out what it is. Then we can take the appropriate steps. Do not lose hope, Harry. We will find a solution."
Nodding, Harry looked about the room, noting that the day had progressed while they had been sequestered with them. He was feeling a great fatigue, both of the body and mind, and wished for nothing more than to find his room and collapse onto his bed. He would not likely find sleep given his present turmoil, but perhaps he would be able come to terms with all he had learned today and find a little perspective.
"Is that all, Professor," Harry asked. "If so, I think I should spend some time thinking about all of this."
"I think all the weighty revelations have been taken care of, Harry," Dumbledore confirmed. "But there is one more thing we need to discuss."
"Your connection with Voldemort is a problem, Harry," Jean-Sebastian interjected. "Luckily, it seems that he does not yet know of its existence, but we can only assume that he will eventually discover it. You must learn to close it off."
"How can I do that?"
"There is a branch of magic known as Occlumency, and it is essentially the process of defending one's mind from outside attacks, though it does also have other benefits. With your permission, I will ask Fleur to instruct you in its use as she has been practicing it for some time."
Harry considered that, thinking that it would be very good to prevent Voldemort from invading his dreams at all hours of the day and night. And maybe he could prevent the pain when he was nearby.
"Does it take a long time to master?"
"To fully master, yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "But if you are diligent, you will obtain a certain proficiency within a few weeks, enough to withstand a remote attack, I believe. The opposite form of magic is known as Legilimency, and it allows one to see into the mind of another. Voldemort is very skilled in this branch of magic, and if he were in the same room, he would no doubt overwhelm your defenses in a matter of moments, unless you had had several years of practice. Since we do not intend for him to be so close to you for some time to come, a basic proficiency should allow you to shut him out if he is not nearby."
"Very well, sir," Harry acknowledged with a tight nod. "But I want something from you too."
Dumbledore immediately acquiesced, though Harry could see a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "I want you to teach me everything you know. This whole thing comes down to him and me and he's already got years of experience on me. I don't have much of a chance as it is, but I'd like to learn whatever I can in the time I have."
"That's the spirit, Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, slapping him on the back.
"I agree," Dumbledore responded, "though I would caution you not to lose all hope. Yes, he has many years of experience to draw upon, but remember 'the power he knows not'. Your amazing capacity to love others, your ability to inspire, and the support and love that you engender in return, are all things that Voldemort has no concept of. These things may end up tilting the balance in your favor. Keep a positive outlook."
"I will, sir," Harry responded, and seeing that the interview was now over, he excused himself from the room, wishing to seek solitude in his own room. It was a lot to come to terms with.
In another part of the house, Hermione sat with Fleur and Susan, alternately turning pages in her book, but more prominently worrying about her closest friend. Some sixth sense had told her that the Headmaster's arrival that day portended some great event, and knowing her best friend, she was certain that Harry was at the center of it.
Harry Potter. The very name sometimes filled her with exasperation. He was quite possibly the most pig-headed, stubborn, trouble magnet that she had ever met in her entire life. He was also the most compassionate, considerate, wonderful person of her acquaintance, and she was aware of the fact that if she had not already admitted her deep attraction for him, there would be no denying it now.
She was on the cusp, she knew. She was almost ready to accept Fleur's proposal. Not everything had been worked out yet—she did not know what her parents would say, she was still insecure about Fleur's beauty and felt like an ugly duckling in comparison, and she still did not know if she could share his love with another, but she was also as sure as she could be, as a mere sixteen-year-old, that she would regret it for the rest of her life if she did not seize this opportunity. It was just a matter of feeling Harry out to see if he felt the same as she did. That and making him aware of the possibility, of course.
Stifling a giggle, Hermione thought of Harry's probable reaction to the revelation. He was modest and such a… a… boy! He would no doubt be embarrassed at the situation; she could imagine seeing him stammer and shift from foot to foot when confronted by it. Hermione decided she would have to think on it carefully, after considering the situation for a moment. Harry was very noble—he would possibly refuse to even consider the possibility of having two wives, if he thought it would spare her any discomfort. She would have to make certain he understood from the start that she wanted this—only then would they be able to bring him around.
A movement in the hallway caught Hermione's attention and she looked up in time to see Harry shuffle past the open door to the sitting room they were using. Before she had formed a conscious thought, Hermione was out of her chair pursuing her friend, subconsciously noting the presence of her friends on her heels.
The sight that met her eyes filled her with dismay. Harry appeared exhausted and beaten down; a far cry from the happy teenager he had been only that morning.
"Harry?" she asked, hesitant to disturb him in this state, but knowing he would mope about whatever was bothering him if she did not intervene.
He turned and roused himself enough to give her a ghost of a smile. "Hey, Hermione," he said and then he continued to walk away.
Following him, Hermione noted that Fleur was still on her heels, though Susan had disappeared somewhere. The other girl had become a friend in the previous weeks, but she still did not have the emotional connection to him that Hermione and Fleur possessed. She had obviously sized up the situation and removed herself, knowing that any discussions would likely be personal.
Hermione followed Harry back to his room where he entered and flopped down on the edge of the bed, dejection showing in his every movement. By now Hermione was becoming frightened—what had happened to cause such a drastic shift in his demeanor in only a few hours?
Sharing a concerned look with Fleur, Hermione approached his bed and sat down beside him, while Fleur took his other side. She watched as Fleur gathered one of his hands in her own and began to caress it with her other hand. Hermione focused on her friend's face, willing him to look back at her.
"Was it bad news?" she asked quietly.
Glancing up, Harry's eyes searched hers for a moment, before he turned to look at Fleur with equal intensity. He then flopped back down on the bed and groaned, while tiredly rubbing his eyes. "The worst," he confirmed with a sigh.
"Perhaps you should tell us then," Fleur prompted. "If you share the burden, it becomes easier to bear."
Though he kept his eyes closed for several moments, Harry finally sighed again and nodded his head. "I suppose you both deserve to know. You've both been so great to me that I would hate to lose your support, but you deserve to know.'
"Harry, you'll never lose our support," Hermione chided gently.
Snorting, Harry pushed his elbows behind his back and returned to his sitting position on the edge of the bed. "Maybe you'll reconsider when you've heard what I learned today."
Then softly, hesitantly, Harry began to speak, and though his voice was clear and his attention was focused on them, his tone was detached, as though he feared their reaction. Though Hermione knew that she could never abandon her friend, as she listened with growing dismay, she began to understand why he would think such a thing. The prophecy was difficult enough to process, but the horcrux was beyond comprehension, and she felt tears sting her cheeks as Harry emotionlessly predicted that he would have to die in order to the rid the world of one Tom Riddle. Across from her and on Harry's other side, Hermione watched as Fleur openly wept, her Veela nature profoundly affected by the evil which inflicted her betrothed and, Hermione suspected, the boy with whom she was rapidly falling in love. The pure evil of such a vile creation was undoubtedly affecting her too, as it was the antithesis of Veela love. It was up to Hermione to maintain a level head and help her friends through this terrible ordeal.
As Harry's words fell silent, Hermione hugged him to her, mirroring Fleur's actions, and though her embrace was meant more to impart comfort than receive it, she had the distinct impression that Fleur was completely the opposite. Hermione moved to quickly assure him that his fears were completely unfounded.
"Now let's get one thing straight, Potter," Hermione snapped with a fierceness she had not known she possessed, "you need to get any hint of our leaving you because of this out of your head. You're stuck with us—both of us!"
"Of course!" Fleur echoed through her tears from Harry's other side. "We are betrothed, you know."
"You could ask your father out of it. I'm sure he would understand and he and Sirius would agree to cancel it."
"Not on your life!" Fleur growled. "You're not getting rid of me that easily!"
"And besides," Hermione interjected, "I've always known you were a little crazy. Now I know why."
Her attempt at a joke fell a little flat, but it had the intended consequence of lightening the oppressive atmosphere in the room. Harry chuckled and for the first time began to hug Hermione back.
"Thanks to both of you," was Harry's quiet response.
"There is nothing to thank us for," Fleur firmly replied.
Hermione glanced over at her friend and noticed the determination on her face—now that the original shock had worn off, she had returned to the calm and rational person Hermione knew her to be. The sight helped Hermione find her own sense of resolve. They would beat this, no matter what it took.
"You need to be positive, Harry," Hermione comforted him. Dumbledore will find the solution—he's the greatest wizard in the world! If anyone can do it, he can!"
Harry was silent for several moments before he responded. "Thank you for being positive. I know that not all hope is lost, but I think I need to think about this and come to terms with it before I can put it in proper perspective. Thank you both for your support."
They assured him of their constancy immediately, and the three fell into quiet conversation. And though Hermione participated and asserted her opinions, she was also consumed with her own contemplations. She knew that her thoughts before he had seen Harry pass the room indicated that she had chosen to proceed and agree to Fleur's proposal. She now felt a certain sense of relief that she had finally made a decision.
But how could she do so now, with that new danger hanging over Harry's head? Surely he would be thinking of anything but the state of his love life and the question of who he would be romancing. This would take some planning to do it properly. She would have to talk to Fleur about it.
Updated 07/29/2013