The Many Phases of Love

A/N: My Harry is capable of maturing earlier than canon Harry did. Also, a LOT of dialogue is in here so be warned.

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Answers

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Harry stared at the calmly sweeping back of Dumbledore's long blue robe, wiping his sweaty palms against his trousers. His heartbeat was galloping in his chest and Harry couldn't get the image of the cauldron bursting into flames out of his mind. It was a rather traumatizing vision, especially considering that Harry could have been a burnt corpse by now. He knew that the potion's classroom had special protective charms cast on each table so that whatever fiery explosion occurred would be immediately sucked in through some sort of vortex. It was still a close call.

He was so lost in his thoughts that Harry didn't notice when they arrived in the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore sat behind his desk and motioned Harry towards the chair in front. Harry sat down promptly, still feeling slightly uncomfortable to be here ever since his outburst at the end of his fifth year. Fawkes sat on his perch, singing a short but comforting song.

But Dumbledore was smiling delicately, his eyes twinkling above his half-moon spectacles.

"Would you like a bit of a snack, Harry?" Dumbledore offered politely, switching to a more familiar air around them. Harry shook his head in decline. He didn't think his stomach could handle any sort of food. Dumbledore seemed to understand and conjured himself a cup of what seemed like tea and delicately looped his pointer finger into the curved handle, sipping the light brown liquid without thought to its temperature.

Harry sat still knowing that Dumbledore liked to build the anticipation by performing mundane things and placing such ostensible significance in his actions. It was a ritual for the old wizard.

In a way this calmed Harry a little, finding the exaggerated normalcy a counteract for what had happened earlier. Finally, Dumbledore looked to have had enough of his tea and placed the china down. He linked his long, bony fingers together and rested them on the table and gave Harry a somewhat measuring look.

"Mr. Potter, tell me," said Dumbledore in a tone that was a mixture of smiling and serious. "Do you remember our conversation during the first day of term?"

Harry sat up straighter, startled at the question. He hadn't expected it at all and of course he remembered, why wouldn't he? He'd still been filled with fresh grief over Sirius (and until now the thought of his godfather caused a deep twinge in Harry's heart) but in a rare and surprising move, Harry had also come to accept it as a culmination of everything that went wrong during his fifth year. It was no one's singular fault, although some people made mistakes more than others.

Harry nodded hesitantly. "Er, yes. It was…was about S-Sirius." His voice tightened a little at his godfather's name but swallowed past it. "But I don't see how it's related to the accident in class, sir."

"We'll get to that, my boy. Now this time, tell me, do you feel the same then as you do now?"

Harry wasn't sure if the Headmaster meant in an emotional way, or mental way, and took a blind guess. He felt acutely uncomfortable discussing feelings with someone more than a dozen times older than him, infinitely more powerful and his Headmaster to boot. "W-Well, I'm not as bitter over it anymore. I mean, there had been some lingering about but it's not as great anymore. I can…remember S-Sirius without becoming too upset. I can say his name."

"Good, good," Dumbledore said approvingly with a nod of his head. "That is excellent to hear. Harry, do you mean that you've come to understand, and not merely accept, all that had happened?"

This was becoming confusing. "All what, Professor? Do you mean Sirius' death? I understand that it was a consequence of so many things gone wrong. Do you mean about Voldemort wanting me dead? I understand the prophecy although I'm not sure why it happened to me."

Dumbledore merely smiled mysteriously and went completely off tangent. "Harry, can you tell me the difference between a man and an animal?"

Harry thought that perhaps Dumbledore had finally lost his mind. Or this could be Dumbledore's habit of doing and explaining things in a roundabout way that was incredibly frustrating for the older wizard's audience. He gave a mental sigh and prepared to play along with the Headmaster.

The Gryffindor thought about it for a few moments. "Our capacity to experience complex emotions and thoughts?" Harry ventured tentatively, swiftly remembering an animal show he'd seen once in the telly when the Dursleys' hadn't been home.

Dumbledore's eyes were like the stars in the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. "Yes, but do you know what is deeper than that, Harry?"

"Er…no, not exactly."

"It is our ability to understand, Harry, that sets us apart from animals, that makes us able to view and react to a situation individually. It help shapes our decisions and actions. And when we are able to understand, we're also capable of misunderstanding things." Dumbledore peered at Harry who stared back without blinking, hoping not to miss any of the hidden messages the Headmaster was fond of giving. Still, Harry didn't understand what Dumbledore was trying to say.

-

Harry sat stiffly on his seat, unable to look the Headmaster directly in the eye after the damage he'd done to his office, this very office, months ago. Harry had been fueled by anger and grief then, righteously justified after he'd lost Sirius. But then during the summer he'd started to regret his rash, violent actions. After all, the things he'd broken must have meant something to Dumbledore, a memento of his past or a souvenir from an old friend, and Harry had no right to destroy them. It was a surprise that Dumbledore had fetched Harry from the Dursleys' himself and after a critical appraisal over Harry's form his blue eyes had warmed familiarly.

They had talked very little as they traveled to the Burrow, where Harry spent the remaining days of his summer under scrutiny and careful care from the Weasleys. It had been awkward and nearly unbearable but he'd kept up a pleasant front because the Weasleys were genuinely concerned for him. Harry was glad he hadn't been made to face Remus either. He didn't know what to say to the man even now.

"Harry, it's wonderful to see how you've adapted," Dumbledore said without preamble, which was unlike him. His eyes regarded Harry with pleasure.

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"My boy, I was rather unsure of how the past months' changes might have affected you," the aged wizard confessed uncharacteristically. "My own secretive actions had helped pave the way for your loss. I must admit I underestimated your maturity, Harry, in that I expected you to be in worse form this semester and certainly not the smiling, almost peaceful young man you were at the feast earlier."

Oh. That made sense. Harry himself was rather surprised at how he'd spent his summer. The Dursleys were the same in their belittling and ignorance and Harry had spent most days in his bedroom, lost in deep thought. He'd come to many conclusions that way and he'd nearly lost control of his emotions – and magic – more than once indulging his thoughts.

Harry glanced at Dumbledore and saw true concern for him there, like the look he'd often seen in Molly's eyes, or any one of the Weasleys.

"I thought a lot during summer," Harry said hesitantly, his eyes falling sideways to where Fawkes stood, beautiful and comforting. His golden eyes filled Harry with a warm glow to continue. "Not…not just about S-Sirius but about everything." He took a deep fortifying breath, looking straight into Dumbledore's eyes in true Gryffindor fashion. "It was unfair of you to keep secrets from me, Professor, especially since I've been searching for answers since I was eleven. Then after what happened in the Department of Mysteries…the prophecy only made things worse, I guess. Another thing that will set me apart, that will cause whispers and stares for me, and to know – to finally know why Voldemort wants me dead. It was too much and I lost control and – and blew up your office!" Realizing that his voice had risen in pitch and tone as he babbled, Harry flushed in embarrassment and played with the pocket of his robe.

Dumbledore kept silent.

"And I was so tired of it. Tired of pelting into certain death mindlessly on a yearly basis, of endangering the people I care about and…and of possibly losing them," Harry whispered, thinking of Sirius' madly gleaming eyes and his mouth open in barking laughter. "Losing S-Sirius was the hardest thing in my life because I cannot remember ever losing my parents, or I was too young to feel most of its impact. They've always been gone for me. I didn't want that to happen to Ron or Hermione, or any of the Weasleys, or to anybody really. At first I was content to blame Snape, or Kreacher, or myself, or Voldemort and Bellatrix or even you, Professor, but I kept on thinking and thinking. We were all at fault, not just myself, or Snape. It felt like a revelation and a decision at the same time. I've never regretted my actions more than ever and I promised myself never to act so rashly ever again, or to let Sna – anyone's taunts or prejudice or fear to blind me. I've finally found a home and a family who loves me and I don't want to lose either of them. That was something I came to understand."

Harry licked his lips nervously and cast a hesitant look at the Headmaster. He'd said too much, he knew, and it was uncomfortable to be so blunt with Dumbledore.

"To truly understand puts things in perspective, doesn't it, Harry?" Dumbledore only said with an appreciative look in his eyes. "It sheds light on past mistakes and either brings hope or defeat in its wake. I am glad you've come to that decision, my boy. Hate has always been a motivator for so many people to fulfill personal vendettas and I was afraid Sirius Black's death had decided that path for you. Instead, it had strengthened your resolve to fight not for revenge, but to protect the ones who are still here for you. That, my boy, if you want, is truly the biggest difference between you and Tom Riddle. "

Harry found himself nodding absently in agreement. Yes, that was exactly it. His heart thudded almost painfully, the fresh spring of longing for Sirius rising in his throat. Harry knew that it was all right for him to feel grief and that it didn't lessen the new understanding he'd gained this summer.

-

It had been the start of his maturity, Harry thought matter-of-factly. He didn't regret the loss of his innocence because he'd never been innocent. Voldemort had robbed him of that opportunity nearly sixteen years ago.

"Professor, I don't mean to be rude," Harry said with a frown, unable to keep himself from asking the question he most wanted the answer to. "But I don't understand what you're saying. I'm confused about what happened during Potions. For weeks now…" A brief hesitation. "For weeks I've been noticing something odd about my magic. Like it has gotten stronger somehow. That's my guess to what happened earlier but I'm not…I've actually even researched this in the library without Hermione's help. There's nothing there about someone's magic growing powerful without the use of some spell or potion. I was hoping you knew the answer because you wanted to talk to me."

"As you said there are no historical record of this so I can only give you guesses, Harry," replied Dumbledore with an amused smile. "Although I believe that there are no outside forces at work here. Your sudden power and even your improvement in schoolwork have all been because of you."

Harry waited in anticipation, leaning forward a little.

"When you were a young child, I knew that it would be difficult for you to be in a family who didn't accept anything that deviated from the norm. I still stand by my actions with full faith because I believe that it was the best thing to keep you away from your fame before you were able to comprehend even just a small part of it, although I didn't expect the extent to which the Dursleys loathe our kind. I overestimated Petunia Dursley's feelings for your mother, thinking her a better person, a quirky habit of mine that has led to more than one mistake."

Harry shifted on his seat, unsure how this could possibly tie into his sudden uptake in strength. He didn't like to talk about his relatives at all, especially with the very same man who left him there and continued to insist that he stay with them though he vaguely grasped the reasons.

Dumbledore's hands left Fawkes and took hold of the cup, drinking the rest of the beverage. "You must be wondering how it all fits and if you will trust me, Harry, and listen, then you will understand it. As I was saying, even if you have never shared details with me about their treatment, I'm still able to picture it out. Forgive me, Harry, if my next words are prying. I can imagine they called you many unflattering names and insulted yourself, your parents and every wizard they could possibly think of. I'm rather certain they had a few choice words about me when I came to get you."

"Any child would have been confused in that regard, wondering what he or she had done to receive such unloving treatment from his family. Whenever cruel words were spoken and harsh punishments given for situations the child had no control of, then it is easy to guess that the child would have felt a self-loathing for himself and for whatever part of him that was unlovable and unnatural."

There was a break in Dumbledore's words and Harry ducked his head, brows furrowed at the thought that Dumbledore must have read his mind to know partly implicit details of part of Harry's childhood. At least Dumbledore spoke about Harry in the third person, perhaps hoping to preserve some of Harry's pride. He didn't feel the foreign presence of Legilimens, though, probing into his mind which he'd been taught to look out for. McGonagall had taken Snape's place in teaching Harry Occlumency and although she was not as accomplished as Snape in that area, Harry learned more from her than he ever did with the Potions Master.

There was a soft rattle as Dumbledore placed the cup down and waved his wand lightly, making it vanish. Harry could not help but notice that the light in the Headmaster's eyes had dimmed a little. It was disconcerting since it implied that Dumbledore thought too much about it.

"Do you know that magic is alive, Harry? It is sentient and connected first and foremost to our emotions rather than to our conscious mind. It explains the many cases of wandless magic now and then. I'm sure you've experienced it yourself, the sudden flow of wild magic when you've felt highly emotional. So when you began to unconsciously detest as a child whatever was in you," explained Dumbledore, referring now wholly about Harry, "your magic couldn't help but respond by restricting itself. Your subconscious helped it into a corner, although it would leak occasionally. But on the day of your eleventh birthday, when finally you received answers for the reason why your relatives treated you that way – and that there were many others like you and it was not just you – your magic should have been freed completely. Instead, when you came to the wizarding world you found out that even here you are different and you've come to associate different as something terrible. In a world full of strange people, you still stood out as one of the strangest so to speak. Your magic felt it again, except that your restriction now had specifications. You released some of it for you to be able to function as a proper wizard but the bulk of your magic, your potential, was locked away."

"Until last summer."

Dumbledore paused again to give Harry time to wade through the information he'd been given. It sounded logical to Harry, who vaguely knew that the mind was one of the most powerful things in the world. He'd read through a few muggle and magical psychology books provided by McGonagall to help him with his Occlumency. Still, he was a little bit skeptical about it all. He gave a small nod to let the older man know he was ready to know more.

"You experienced a tragedy so great and yet it had a reverse effect on you. Instead of shutting yourself from everything and everything, you opened yourself to your grief and embraced it. With doing that, you let the worse of it pass. You thought about your situation as objectively as you could and for the first time in your life, you managed to understand and accept the most difficult things in your life." Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles, peering at Harry with a with a return of the brightness in his blue eyes. "Would it be so much to ask for you to share how you feel with the Dursleys, Harry?"

Harry hesitated, unsure if he wanted to unburden himself in front of the aged wizard, who he was beginning to suspect didn't even need to use Legilimency to know other people's thoughts because he could read and understand people so completely that it bordered on the terrifying. His thoughts on the Dursleys seemed too personal, somehow, and not even his best friends had heard of these things. But perhaps he could tell Dumbledore the gist of it.

Harry chose his words carefully. "I don't agree with you about choosing the Dursleys to raise me, sir. As you said, they nearly stamped the magic out of me with their…ill-treatment if Hagrid had not taken me to Hogwarts. It's hard to imagine you had my best interests in mind when you gave me to them – but it's something that can't be changed for now. I've realized that I wouldn't want to put the Weasleys' in more danger if I stayed with them all year round. And Grimmauld Place…" Harry drifted and shook his head. "I wouldn't want to live in that house. The Dursleys have said so many insulting things ever since I was a boy and it has been hard to think differently when you're confronted with proof every day of your life. I don't think being a wizard is wrong but the prophecy." Harry broke off again, unsure of what to say next. He had spent nights awake thinking of the prophecy, and how this would affect his life if it would be publicized. Harry intensely hated it. This was just another gulf between Harry and everyone else who would be staring across at him with adoring but unknowing eyes.

"But after fifth year, I wanted to change. I knew that if I stayed the same then I wouldn't have a bollocks' chance of stopping Voldemort – er, sorry - and that meant starting with the most fundamental thing…my view of myself. In the end it also helped me deal with what happened to S-Sirius. I still loathe just the very thought of Bellatrix but I don't want to kill her anymore because of my anger but because I want justice for S-Sirius, who – who hadn't managed to receive it in life," said Harry a little thickly, smoothing a crease on his trouser that he had caused by his tugging.

But Dumbledore was nodding gravely, looking strangely proud. "It is wonderful to see the man you are becoming, my boy. Although you may dislike your role in our world, it is my personal opinion that fate couldn't have chosen a finer young man."

It was unusual to hear such direct praise from Dumbledore, and on Harry's maturity of all things, and he ducked his head a little in embarrassment. He knew it was important to know these things about himself but it didn't really mean Harry liked to discuss any part of it. He was maturing, that was true, but he still felt like a boy a lot of the time.

"Do you realize it now, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a pleased tone. "You changed your negative view of yourself, started by your relatives and improved upon by the various personalities in the wizarding world, because you wanted to be better. This, in turn I believe, vanished the remaining restrictive hold your subconscious had on your magic. It is like your mind has always been only just half-illuminated but once you started to know and heal yourself, the light bulb in your head fully brightened."

Harry thought deeply for a moment. "So…it is because…because of the fact that I've come to realize and accept all of these things, to…take the world and myself as I am that I have become more powerful."

"Yes, it is. When you used a spell to light the cauldron, you did it with your usual manner but unknowing that your power had actually magnified, causing the explosion. I'm certain there were times when you've used simple spells and found their effects improved. However it's not just your magic that has been directly affected. I've noticed that you're marks have improved in all of your subjects and from the professors' reports you're beginning to grasp magical theory better," Dumbledore stated. "You're reaching your full potential, Harry, and I would suggest extra lessons for you. Possibly in Defense, Charms, Transfiguration and Runes."

"But I don't take Runes," Harry pointed out.

"You will only be taught the basics of Runic magic. It was used in ancient times for spellcasting and not just for literature," Dumbledore explained happily, planning in his head his young charge's new schedule if Harry allowed it.

Truthfully, the amount of work didn't scare Harry. He was just glad that the Headmaster hadn't suggested he study Potions too because he wasn't sure if he could be alone with Snape after last semester's fiasco. I probably would have shriveled up at the thought of more schoolwork, Harry thought dryly with an inward roll of his eyes. Now I can't believe I'm actually looking forward to learning them.

But it wasn't mostly because Harry actually found himself interested to learn but there was a more practical reason that he wanted to do it. He knew that when he would face Voldemort, because there was no longer a question of that happening, then Harry would need all the knowledge and power to be able to have a fighting chance. There were things that he knew how to do, like the Patronus Charm, imaginative hexes and curses, a particularly powerful Blasting Curse and so on but Harry understood he needed deeper, broader knowledge and skill, like the kind Hermione possessed. This would help him and Harry was certain Dumbledore had partly thought of it not just to improve Harry's education. After all, no matter what, Albus Dumbledore thought first and foremost about the upcoming war.

Harry made his decision and straightened his back. He met Dumbledore's eyes and found them regarding him calmly.

"I'll do it."

Dumbledore beamed at him, his face looking younger by decades just because of that simple action. "Excellent, my boy. Since the school year is ending, then I propose that you stay here for the summer to begin your training at once. If there are other things you would like to learn then you're more than welcome to propose the subject and the professors and I will take it into consideration," Dumbledore said with an ease that made it clear the Headmaster had been planning this for quite some time.

Harry didn't particularly care because he was too ecstatic by the possibility. His summer spent here, in Hogwarts? Away from the Dursleys? It was simply too good to be true. To his consternation, Harry realized he had no words to express just how much those words meant to him and he simply nodded with wide eyes, Dumbledore watching him with a knowing, smiling look.

"You may leave, Harry, but don't forget that you still have to report back to Professor Snape," Dumbledore said as Fawkes gave a soft, lovely trill. "Would you kindly inform him to see me after he's given you your punishment. I think a trip to your Head of House as soon as possible is also in order so you can begin making plans for this summer. And Harry," Dumbledore added with a mad twinkling happening in his eyes, "second chances are meant for people who do not seem like they deserve it. Do not close your mind to the possibility that someone has changed though they do not show it. If you simply observe without bias, you will learn that even the most impossible relationships may not be so unworkable after all. You were able to change yourself – believe that others are capable of the same thing."

Harry nodded absently, the words barely penetrating his racing thoughts. He would probably examine Dumbledore's parting words later. Harry stood up and mumbled a polite goodbye and practically floated out of the Headmaster's office. So many things occupied his mind and yet what stood out the most was the fact that he was going to spend the summer without his horrid relatives. He knew that it wasn't enough to make up for the ruined childhood he'd spent with the Dursleys but it was a start. A good start.

With a sudden grin, Harry sprinted down to the dungeons uncaring if he was showing too much enthusiasm. After all, it wasn't for Snape.

-

It took Harry five hours to clean the Potions classroom until it was spotless. Snape had given him the punishment without using magic or given a break, with a week's detention after. Snape had left him with the most unpleasant look on his face. Harry took to the task with a single-mindedness he showed only for Quidditch. While he worked and cleaned and scrubbed, Harry's mind furiously ran over his discussion with Dumbledore. Mostly it was just to assimilate himself again with the reasons for the magical accidents that had been happening to him all year round, but mostly recently. Then his thoughts dwelled on his upcoming summer and he felt a sharp anticipation for it. He already knew one other topic he wanted to learn this summer and would ask McGonagall if it was possible.

Harry felt too exhausted to go to McGonagall and decided that tomorrow would suffice. He returned to Gryffindor tower without passing the Great Hall, since dinner had been long over (Potions had been their last class of the day). He was physically drained but mentally, he was more alert than ever.

"Snortles," Harry said weakly to the Fat Lady and she quickly drew away from the portrait hole, sympathetic to Harry's ragged appearance. The common room was full of people who turned to look at Harry's entrance with curiosity. They had heard of what had happened.

Thankfully, Ron and Hermione saved him before anyone could start asking questions and immediately drew him to the boys' dormitory, where it was spotless after Hermione had ordered Ron to clean up the mess if she was going to spend time in there. Harry saw a tray of food on his bed and felt a wave of affection for his friends.

Ron and Hermione waited patiently as Harry took a quick, cleansing bath and afterward staggered over to his bed. The other two Gryffindors engaged in light conversation as Harry ate quietly and swiftly.

"All right, mate, spill," Ron immediately demanded once Harry had finished his last bite of treacle tart. "What did Dumbledore say?"

"Ron, don't be rude," Hermione scolded with a glare. "Let Harry actually finish eating."

Ron crossed his arms stubbornly. "He's already swallowed his dessert, so obviously he's finished, right Harry?"

Harry chuckled and pushed the plate away. "It's fine, Hermione. I can tell you what Dumbledore said to me."

Instantly his friends straightened, focusing on the dark-haired Gryffindor.

Harry thought about how he should say it. It seemed long and complicated and would delve into unpleasant territories that he'd never really shared with his best friends before. But he knew he needed to tell them, to explain and to actually unburden himself.

Harry looked at their resolute faces and had to give a faint smile, deciding on how to start. "Dumbledore said I've become a fully functional light bulb."

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A/N: GOD, this chapter KILLED me to write. So, that is the big explanation and I hope that it wasn't disappointing or too confusing. It actually makes sense to me but I'm just shocked this thing actually has some semblance of plot. Please do leave a review to ALL who read this. And my chapters keep getting longer, don't they?

- On this note, I'm going through a very rough patch in my relationship right now and I'm not sure if I will still be able to update next week though I've already written half of chapter 4. I will try but if I can't, then I hope you all will be patient and understanding. Thank you.