Harry sat slumped in the small wooden chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, his eyes staring unfocused into space as he waited in silence and his mind lost in thought. The train had arrived at the Hogsmeade station almost an hour earlier, completely intact thanks to a quick bit of magic from Dumbledore repairing the hole Harry had made. Immediately Auror healers had begun levitating the most seriously injured onto the platform on conjured stretchers. An irate Madame Pomfrey was there to greet them, quickly shouting orders as she took charge of the situation and even the most senior healer among them, sensing perhaps that this was not a woman to be trifled with, followed her lead without question. By the time the remaining students had begun to disembark she was already heading back to the school, a grisly procession of bleeding and moaning stretchers behind her.
Harry himself had not even set both feet on the ground when he had been seized by Mad-Eye and Tonks, who ignored his friends' angry protests as they pulled him bodily across the platform and to the waiting school carriages. He did not say a word as he was placed into the lead carriage and sent on his way, simply sitting in silence as Hogwarts grew ever nearer. When the carriage had finally stopped and the door opened, he had not been surprised to find Professor McGonagall waiting for him, her expression fierce.
"This way Potter," she had said tersely before she turned and walked inside, Harry following silently behind her. Neither of them spoke as they followed the winding path up the castle stairs until they finally arrived at the gargoyle statue that he knew protected the Headmaster's office. "The password is Toffee, Mr. Potter. The headmaster requests that you remain in his office until he arrives."
And wait he had. For nearly an hour he had been waiting, sitting motionless in his chair as his thoughts swirled in torrents. The impending sense of doom he felt weighed down on him until he felt as if he had a Hagrid sized weight sinking into each shoulder. He had killed a man. There was no way around that fact.
He had even asked Tonks to check again when she had first told him, and she had humored him, but the result was unchanged. He had killed a man, a Death Eater yes, but still a human being and he knew that there was only one punishment that the law would allow. The depths of his contemplations were such that he did not even notice the headmaster's approach until the old man placed a hand upon his shoulder.
"Hello Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. Harry jerked out of his stupor at the sound of the headmaster's voice, leaping to his feet as Dumbledore shuffled past him to collapse wearily into the high backed chair behind his desk. "Please my boy, sit down." Harry complied but still did not speak, his eyes boring a hole into the hard wooden floor. "I am sure that you will be delighted to hear that none of your schoolmates will suffer any permanent injury due to this afternoon's events. The majority have already been tended and healed by Madame Pomfrey and the Auror healers, and the few that required additional treatment have already been transported to St. Mungo's." Harry's eyes had finally risen to meet Dumbledore's own at the mention of the other students, his expression one of abject relief.
"What about the Death Eaters," he asked softly. Dumbledore adjusted the spectacles perched on his long nose before replying.
"Many of them were able to escape when I removed their anti-apparition ward. It is unfortunate, but ultimately I believe that it could not be helped. I had to tear down their wards in order for more Auror reinforcements to be brought in, and the safety of my students is far more important than apprehending Death Eaters. Never the less, four have been apprehended and are in custody at the Ministry where they will be interrogated and stand trial. Five Death Eaters were killed in the attack, as were six Aurors. Kingsley arrived just a few minutes ago with a team to return their bodies to the Ministry." Harry nodded.
"So I expect they should be along any moment for me then."
"For you?" Dumbledore asked, frowning in confusion, "Whatever do you mean my dear boy?"
"Well, I mean…Professor I killed that Death Eater."
"Ah," Dumbledore said as understanding dawned on him, "I see now why you look so distraught. You have been thinking this whole time that I asked you to wait here so that the Aurors could cart you off to Azkaban? No my boy, I am sure that you will be staying here with us for quite some time." Harry leaned forward in his seat, his voice choked with emotion.
"Sir…I killed someone. I don't think your reputation or mine would let the Ministry overlook that."
"Quite right you are my boy, nor would I expect them to. Ms. Tonks approached Professor Moody and myself as soon as the Hogwarts Express was underway once more and advised us of the situation. It was decided that it would be in your best interest to investigate immediately. The man in question is being examined at St. Mungos as we speak, and an investigator with the Auror office is obtaining a memory of the event from Ms. Weasley. They will want to view your own memory of course to confirm, but it is merely a formality. I have already heard Ms. Weasley's recounting of what happened and I truly believe it to be nothing more than a tragic accident."
"But I killed him…does that make me like him?"
Dumbledore smiled sympathetically at the obviously conflicted young man whose face couldn't seem to decide between shame and relief. Curse you Tom, he thought to himself bitterly. Curse you for forcing someone so young to bear this burden.
"Harry, did you mean to kill this man?" Harry swelled with indignation as the Headmaster's words slammed into him with the force of a bludger.
"Of course not!"
"Then what happened was not your fault. My guess is that the late Mr. Lestrange simply had a weak heart and your stunning spell set off a massive heart attack. Such a thing is not unheard of. Magic, my dear boy, is not infallible. But ask yourself something Harry: knowing now that your actions would result in his death, would you go back and do things differently if you could?" Harry sat silently for several moments as he considered the headmaster's words. The answer that came to him was surprisingly easy.
"No," he answered, his voice strong with conviction.
"Really?" Dumbledore asked with raised eyebrows. "And why not?"
"Because there was no time to act any differently. He was an evil man about to murder dozens of innocent people, including my best friends, just because he was angry at me. If I had stopped to think even for a second, or tried to think of some other spell to use, he might have succeeded. I couldn't take that chance, not with so many lives at stake. I'm not sorry that he's dead…but I hate that I had to be the one to kill him." Dumbledore nodded sagely.
"And that, my dear boy, is why you will never be like Voldemort." Dumbledore could have laughed at the look of utter relief he saw break out on Harry's face, but instead he merely smiled serenely. "And now Harry, it is very late. I will instruct you briefly in how to remove one's memories for viewing in a pensieve so that I can have it ready for the investigator tomorrow, and then you should be getting off to bed. The feast, such as it was, is long over, but I can have one of the elves deliver something to your common room-"
"No."
Dumbledore blinked slowly, not used to being interrupted.
"I beg your pardon?"
"We had a deal. You told me that after the feast you would tell me everything. Like you said, the feast is now over."
"Yes, well," Dumbledore coughed uncomfortably. "I did give my word, but surely under the circumstances another time would be more-"
"Professor," Harry interrupted for a second time, "please." Dumbledore sighed heavily as he looked into the desperate pleading azure orbs of the Boy Who Lived. Rather than reply he simply clapped his hands once, sharply. A sharp crack announced the arrival of a house elf.
"What can Wemble do for master Dumbledore?"
"A light dinner for myself and young Harry here. Tea as well if you please; we will likely be here for some time." The elf bowed and with another crack was gone. "We will still begin with teaching you the basics of memory recovery for the pensieve if you do not mind Harry. The investigator will need it to clear you of any wrong doing and it is a rather useful skill if I do say so myself."
The process of extracting the memories was actually fairly simple, Harry discovered. Within minutes he found himself pulling his wand away from his head, a long silvery strand dangling from it. Disgustingly it reminded him very much of when his wand had been covered with troll bogies in his first year. As he released the thin stream into the labeled vial that Dumbledore had provided, he heard yet another crack and saw a large table set for two appear in the center of the room, its surface covered with various dishes.
"Ah splendid," Dumbledore said happily, quickly moving to a seat and motioning for Harry to do the same. "I must confess that in dealing with the aftermath of the day's events I was unable to join the students for their feast. As a result I am quite famished, so dig in." The headmaster proceeded to do just that and Harry sat hesitantly across from him looking deeply concerned.
"Not that I don't appreciate this sir, but-"
"Please Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, "do not think that I am trying to avoid your questions. I have told you I will tell you everything and I will, but I see no harm in doing so on a full stomach." Harry considered arguing for a moment, feeling desperately impatient to discover what the Headmaster had learned from his inquires, but finally nodded his acceptance and reached for a nearby plate of chicken. "I had always planned to speak to you about this you know," Dumbledore stated casually as he spooned a large portion of roasted potatoes onto his plate. "I was working carefully, slowly so as to not draw any attention, and when I had the evidence I needed I was going to present it to you piece by piece so that you could digest it, absorb it, and truly understand it."
He chuckled softly. "Ever the teacher, always looking for an opportunity for a student to learn. But you may save your anger Harry; I know that this is no longer possible." Dumbledore leaned forward, his jovial demeanor replaced by a seriousness that sent a chill down Harry's spine. "I want to tell you a story Harry. A story about Lord Voldemort…and his immortality."
For the next few hours Harry sat quietly, watching and listening with rapt attention as Dumbledore revealed to him through the pensieve glimpses of Voldemort's ancestry and parentage, shadows of the handsome and charming young Head Boy who had won so many hearts at Hogwarts, and finally told him of the true horror of what young Tom Riddle had become. He felt a growing sense of despair as he realized that as long as these soul fragments, these Horcruxes existed, Lord Voldemort could not die.
"Seven," Harry whispered gravely, still attempting to process the vast amount of information that had just been revealed to him. "Sir, do you really think that he made seven Horcruxes?" Dumbledore nodded his head.
"Yes Harry, I do…but I do not believe that he intended to do so." Harry looked puzzled at this crytic comment but Dumbledore continued before he could interrupt. "But after everything that you have learned here tonight, does it truly surprise you to learn that Tom Riddle would do something so horrific? His ego would find the idea far too appealing to resist I fear. I am also supremely confident in the contents of that memory Harry. It was the most difficult of all of these to procure, and the methods I used to obtain it I am not proud of, but it means that I am most certain of its accuracy." Harry leaned back wearily, sipping slowly at a steaming mug of tea as he stared across the long since cleared off table at Dumbledore.
"So what are they," he asked finally, "do you know?"
"I have my suspiscions," Dumbledore answered guardedly, "and they are very strong suspiscions. At his time however the only one that I can be reasonably certain of is the diary that possessed Ms. Weasley in your second year." Harry recoiled, taken aback at the idea that Ginny had been possessed not just by a memory of Voldemort, but by a chunk of his soul. "I have examined it thoroughly since the incident and can confirm that there is no lingering magical presence; you appear to have done a rather thorough job in that regard. That does not mean however that the object is inert. The level of magic that still permeates the object, even years now after its destruction tells me that it was no ordinary magical artifact. You might also be wondering why I chose to show you the memory of Riddle's meeting with Ms. Smith."
Harry's eyes widened as he made the connection. "The cup and the locket!"
"Very good Harry," Dumbledore said with a wide smile, "In fact I believe it to be quite likely that these were the first objects after the diary he used as Horcruxes. And given his penchant for the grandiose and his belief in his own superiority, I would not be surprised if he sought out other founders artifacts for his Horcruxes. Though I do have to admit that I have also long suspected his snake, Nagini, as well."
"You can turn an animal into a Horcrux?"
"Oh yes indeed, though it would be very dangerous; entrusting a piece of your very soul to something that can move and think on its own. Very few would risk such a thing Harry, very few."
"Then why would he do it?" Harry asked, curious.
"Why indeed my boy," Dumbledore muttered, "why indeed. My suspicions on this matter were first raised when you saw Arthur attacked last year. The fact that you saw this vision through Nagini's eyes, rather than through your own or even Voldemort's was the clue. An ordinary wizard could never posses his familiar in such a way, and while we both would agree that Voldemort's magic is above the ordinary, that is still not something that I would have believed possible."
"But if the snake already held a piece of his soul…" Harry reasoned. Dumbledore gave him another proud smile, clearly pleased that Harry was keeping up so well.
"Precisely."
"But they could be anywhere in the world," Harry said, dismay evident in his voice, "How will we ever find them all?"
"I am glad to hear that you comprehend the gravity of the situation," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "And here you have hit upon the crux of the matter, as I believe that in the end, the where will matter much more than the what. But you are forgetting the depths of Lord Voldemort's arrogance Harry. In the same way that he would never be content to use a ratty sock or an old potion bottle as a guardian for a piece of his precious soul, I do not believe that he would leave something so important to him buried in an empty field or on the shelf of his pantry." Harry's brow furrowed in concentration.
"So the for the same reason that you think he used the founder's artifacts you think he also chose hiding places that he would consider just as important."
"Precisely!"
Harry sunk backwards into his seat, the lateness of the hour and the magnitude of the information he was being given finally beginning to weigh on him.
"Well sir," he finally sighed, rubbing at his forehead, "what do we do now?"
"Well I believe that it is about time for you to be getting to -"
"You know what I mean Professor." Dumbledore smiled ruefully.
"Yes I suppose I do. For now Harry, you will do nothing. You will go to class, socialize with your friends…be a teenager."
"Professor you can't be serious," Harry objected loudly as he leaned forward in his seat, all feelings of fatigue forgotten. "First you tell me that I'm destined to fight Voldemort, and now you tell me that he's bloody immortal, and now you want me to just go to class like nothing's happened! I'm sorry sir I just can't do that anymore, I need to be ready for what's coming."
"What precisely do you mean by that Harry?" Dumbledore asked casually, resting both elbows on the arms of his chair as he leaned back slowly and sipping carefully at his steaming mug.
"I mean that I can't keep going to class and pretending that everything is normal! Ever year that I've come to this school, someone or something has tried to kill me. And I don't know if it's just pure luck, but every single time I've managed to escape by the skin of my teeth. Others," he said softly, hanging his head, "others weren't so lucky."
"So you wish to fight in this war?" Dumbledore asked softly, his tone neutral.
"Professor I'm already fighting in this war, can't you see that? You said it yourself last year when you told me about the prophecy; it doesn't matter what I do, even if I ignore the prophecy Voldemort won't. He is not going to stop until I am dead. Whether I put any stock into prophecies, or destiny, or fate doesn't matter, what matters is that he believes it. As long as I am alive, he sees me as a threat to his power and he will come after me and everyone I care about. I'm sick of being helpless sir."
"Understandable. What of the little 'study group' that you so admirably lead last year? You and the students under your tutelage scored the highest scores in Defense Against the Dark Arts in the school. If you wish to practice your defense techniques that would surely be a suitable place?" Harry was shaking his head before Dumbledore even completed his sentence.
"No, I'm not talking about practicing my shield charm or brushing up on my stunning spell sir. What I need is the kind of thing that you can't learn from a book. I need someone to teach me. Please." He stared desperately at the implacable figure of the Headmaster, who still sat motionless as he stared at Harry over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.
"Very well," he said emotionlessly, his face still a stone mask. "It is extremely late Harry, and I am quite sure that your friends have been anxiously awaiting your arrival in your common room, so you really must be off to bed now.
"But sir -" Dumdbledore raised a placating hand.
"Please Harry, I have already agreed to your request. We will speak more on the subject in the near future, I promise you, but for now there is nothing else to discuss." Harry opened his mouth to argue again, ready with a fresh round of arguments as to why Dumbledore should agree, but closed it just as quickly as he realized that he had actually said yes.
"Thank you sir," he stammered, still in shock as he stood and walked to the door.
"Oh and Harry?"
"Yes sir?"
"While it goes without saying that this is highly sensitive information that cannot be thrown about casually, I think it would be prudent to bring your friends Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley into your confidence. I also think that you should tell them about the prophecy." Harry froze, his hand clutching the doorknob in a death grip.
"I…I didn't want -"
"-to worry them? Or perhaps you are simply worried yourself that they might abandon you when they find out?" Harry did not reply, his bowed head revealing the truth. "You do your friends a disservice by not confiding something this important to them. I have known Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley for as long as I have you Harry, and I am confident that they will surprise you if you give them the chance. You need your friends Harry; perhaps even more than you know."
"Are you going to force me to tell them?"
"No, I am not."Harry whirled, shock evident on his face. "You are fast becoming a man Harry, even a blind person could see that, and a rather extraordinary man at that. I have offered you my opinion on the matter and that is the last you will hear of it. The burden is now upon you to decide what is right for you." Harry was once again silent, contemplating the headmaster's words.
"I recognize the great ordeal you have been through today Harry. You are hereby excused from your morning classes tomorrow. Do not worry; I will speak to your teachers. Please, get some rest. Goodnight."
Harry walked slowly forward, his eyes fixated on the portrait of the Fat-Lady hanging directly ahead. He knew now that the Headmaster had been right, it was time to tell his friends the truth. That realization did not however make him and less terrified, and he had found himself walking more slowly the closer he came to Gryffindor tower.
What he had come to realize though with each shuffling step was that in hiding this from his friends, he had been selfish. They had a right to know that their best friend was a marked man and that continued association with him could get them hurt. Honestly it was for the best that they know now so they could begin distancing themselves from him. He simply ignored the icy knife that thought drove into his guts as he stepped up to the portrait and knocked loudly on the frame.
"Hello…excuse me… audentes fortuna iuvat!"
"Alright already," the roused portrait groaned, "you don't have to shout. Shouldn't you be in bed young man?"
Ignoring her question he stepped into the Gryffindor common room, still dimly lit by the rapidly dwindling fires, but jerked to a stop, a smile wide upon his face. In front of the fireplace sat his friends, all of them holding mugs of hot chocolate and all of them fast asleep. It was obvious they had been doing anything they could to stay awake and wait for him judging from the pile of exploding snap cards scattered about in front of them, but it was a task that they had obviously failed. Not that he blamed them after a day like today.
Ginny and Neville sat on a large couch, each of them curled up in their own corner sleeping soundly, obviously exhausted. When he saw Ron and Hermione however he couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him. Hermione sat in a large cushy armchair, a blanket pulled over her, likely by Ron, and her head resting comfortably on the arm of the chair. Ron on the other hand sat on the floor in front of her, where he had obviously been engaged in the game when he had fallen asleep. What was interesting though was that in his sleep he had rolled onto his side and was currently clutching at Hermione's leg, nuzzling it as he lay in the grip of an obviously pleasant dream.
Harry sat as carefully as he could in the gap between Neville and Ginny, not wanting to disturb anyone. He knew that he still had to tell them, and he would…tomorrow. For now he would just lay here and enjoy the presence of his friends. Within moments, he was sound asleep.
