So, this chapter was challenging, and I suspect the next one will be as well. CoS and PoA are easily the two books Dumbledore features in the least. This one in particular, however, was difficult to write as it occurred to me while reading the book that Dumbledore's actions- or lack thereof- are completely inexcusable in a realistic context. It's really really obvious that Jo wrote the teachers to be totally useless in this novel in particular so that she could have Harry save the day. That's useful for her plot to move forward, but challenging for me, trying to write from the perspective of one of the teachers.
Because I'm not going to turn this into an over-examination of every single obvious plot hole, I had to work with what Jo gave us and try to rationalize from Dumbledore's perspective as well as I could. You gotta remember, these are children's books.
Once again, everything here is deliberate. I didn't want to just re-write the book from Dumbledore's point of view, so like last time, a few new scenes are added and several that appeared in the book are not featured as heavily. There is one little moment, however, that's taken from movie canon as I feel it's a more powerful parallel than the book. Hope you enjoy!
"Headmaster, you must see what is happening!"
"And you must see my hands are tied! With the Ministry breathing down my neck at every turn, I had to do something…"
"And if that something incriminates an innocent?"
"Look, Albus, you must admit the boy's record is against him…five counts of raising illegal creatures in the castle, five! It's a wonder no one's been killed before…"
"This was not the doing of an Acromantula. Armando, you must see it."
"It was a tragedy, of course. I don't believe Mr. Hagrid meant it to kill anyone, but surely you must admit that with the evidence before me I have no choice…"
"And what of the truth, Armando?"
"Good lord Albus, surely you don't believe all this nonsense…Chamber of Secrets indeed…"
"Professor Dumbledore, you must see what is happening!"
Albus glanced over the edges of his steepled fingers. Minerva McGonagall stood on the other side of his desk, looking as though she might breathe fire. He sighed.
"My hands are tied, Minerva. I never took you as one to believe in legend."
"Not legend," she scoffed, "but if there is some creature running loose in this castle, surely we must do something. Preparing the Mandrakes is all well and good, but what if someone else is attacked next?"
Albus pressed one hand to the bridge of his nose. A headache was building behind his eyes- the night had been a long one.
"The castle is being searched. That is all I can do," Albus said, lowering his hand. "Unless you believe we should close the school? I would not blame you if you did."
"I…no, not…not yet," Minerva said, clearly wrong-footed by this point of argument. "But surely there must be something more…protective spells or…"
"How can we defend against what we do not know?" Albus countered. "I hope you don't think me callous. Of course, I'm deeply concerned about these attacks…but, forgive me, I am not so foolish as to think a simple shield charm will protect the students."
Minerva's nostrils flared, but she made no further arguments. Albus knew that she knew he was right.
"I value your input deeply. But until we know more, I'm afraid there's little we can do."
Albus Dumbledore did not, in fact, know everything. A common misconception by students and adults alike. Certainly, there was a great deal he did know. He did know the Chamber of Secrets existed, and that it was far more than a legend. He did know the true identity of the culprit behind these attacks. And he did know that somehow, some way, Harry Potter was the true reason the Chamber had been opened again.
He did not know how. He did not know the nature of the beast within, or how it was able to travel the castle unseen. Nor was he aware what sort of creature could petrify- there were no reports anywhere else in the world of a monster that could stun in such a way.
There were many guesses, of course, hunches he could make…perhaps it was able to become invisible, perhaps it traversed through the walls, the plumbing, the roofs…there were numerous possibilities.
Reports of the attacks would reach the parents soon. And when it did, the Ministry would not be far behind. It would not matter. The attacks would not stop, not until Tom Riddle had killed his true target. Perhaps not even then.
Was this to be the moment, then? Would Harry Potter face his fate far, far sooner than expected?
Is there something you wish to tell me?
No sir. Nothing.
It was early December when Minerva McGonagall came to him once again, thin-lipped and grim.
"There's been another attack," she said in a hollow voice. Albus could only sigh- after the Creevey boy, it had only been a matter of time.
"Who?" he asked, lifting his head sadly.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley, of Hufflepuff. And…" she trailed off, a puzzled expression crossing her face, "Nearly Headless Nick as well. Both petrified, as the others have been."
"A ghost?" Albus frowned. What could possibly harm one already dead? Yet he remained calm, for Minerva's sake- it would not do to appear flustered.
"There's something else," Minerva said. Her brow furrowed. "Harry Potter was found standing next to them."
"Ah."
"Albus…I can't believe he'd have anything to do with this, but…" she glanced at him, as if begging him to tell her it couldn't be true. Harry Potter couldn't be the heir of Slytherin.
"I'll speak to him." Albus stood and crossed the room towards the door to his office. "I do not believe the boy has anything to do with this, but as we know…he has a certain fondness for a good mystery."
Minerva scoffed, but said nothing more. Albus entered his office, not quite sure what to expect.
"Professor," Harry Potter spun around, eyes wide and scared. "Your bird- I couldn't do anything- he just caught fire!"
Albus glanced to the side- not what he had expected at all, then. He smiled.
"About time, too," he said, shaking his head. "He's been looking dreadful for days. I've been telling him to get a move on."
Harry's mouth dropped open. Albus chuckled- the boy's astonishment was as endearing as ever. Albus stepped towards the stand whereupon Fawkes usually sat, gesturing for Harry to follow.
"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry," he explained, leaning down to peer into the ashes resting on a golden tray beneath the stand. Harry followed suit, a bemused expression on his face. "Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die, and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him…"
Right on cue, Fawkes poked his tiny, wrinkled head free from the ash. Harry's nose wrinkled slightly, but Albus lifted one finger to let Fawkes find him again. The bird cooed softly, nipping the tip of Albus' finger with his beak. Albus smiled, then straightened.
"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," Albus said, crossing the room again and sitting behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."
Harry had followed behind Albus, sitting in the small wooden chair opposite the desk. Albus fixed him with a stare, waiting for the boy to speak-
Bang.
"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" came the booming voice of Rubeus Hagrid, swinging a dead rooster wildly about the room. His eyes blazed from beneath an enormous balaclava. "I was talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time sir-"
Albus, having momentarily been surprised, opened his mouth to speak. Hagrid interrupted, shaking rooster feathers across the room.
"It can't've bin him, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to"
"Hagrid, I-" Albus lifted a hand.
"Yeh've got the wrong boy sire, I know Harry never-"
"Hagrid!" Albus raised his voice. "I do not think that Harry attacked those people."
"…oh." The rooster fell limp at Hagrid's side, the man himself chastened. "Right. I'll wait outside then, Headmaster." Albus resisted the urge to shake his head, watching as Hagrid stomped back out of the room.
"You don't think it was me, Professor?" Harry asked, nervous eyes suddenly looking hopeful. Albus brushed a few stray feathers off his desk.
"No, Harry, I don't," Albus said. He leaned forward slightly. "But I still want to talk to you." He steepled his fingers, observing the boy. Ought he tell him now? Ought he warn him of the danger, of who was really behind the attacks…of who the real target of all this was? Ought he tell the boy why he had been marked for death at only fifteen months of age?
Yet the boy stared at him, wide-eyed, young…still so young. No, this was not the time for it…yet it was far too clear Harry was nosing around in things most young boys his age wouldn't dream of touching. Albus had heard the rumors, he'd heard the whispers. Potter, the heir of Slytherin, Potter, the Parselmouth…after the events of the previous year, there wasn't a chance Harry was simply sitting idly by this time.
"I must ask you Harry," Albus began gently, "whether there is anything you wish to tell me. Anything at all."
A million unreadable thoughts flashed in Harry's bright green eyes. Albus waited.
"No," Harry answered. "There isn't anything, Professor."
Bitterly disappointed, Albus dismissed Harry from his office.
For a time, there was peace, and the attacks had ceased.
But only for a time.
The match has been cancelled. All students are to report to their house dormitories at once.
Another double attack, another round of questions.
"What do we do, Albus?"
"You must know the governors will have…concerns."
"Ought we close the school?"
"Students aren't safe here anymore!"
"But what else would become of them? It's mid-way through the year, and with exams coming up…"
"You think exams matter more than their lives?"
"Well, that isn't quite what I-"
"Enough!"
Four sets of eyes stared up at him. For a moment, the Heads of Houses seemed to be little more than students themselves. Wanting answers, needing guidance. Even Severus, hard of heart as he often seemed, was visibly concerned.
"The school will not close. Not yet," Albus said. He sighed. "However, I suspect Lucius Malfoy will be calling for my resignation any day now. Should this happen, I will, of course, be forced to step aside." He looked pointedly at Minerva, who merely nodded back at him.
"Until then, new safety protocol must be established until these attacks have stopped."
The questions erupted again.
"And if the attacks don't stop?"
"Have you any idea what might be behind them?"
"Could it really be the Heir of Slytherin?"
"A mere legend, I don't think so, this is surely the work of other dark forces…"
And on and on it went.
The governors did ask him to step aside. So he did.
Not even a month later, they pleaded with him to come back. So he did.
Harry Potter went into the Chamber of Secrets. And Harry Potter came out again, covered in blood and slime, but victorious.
In many ways it was the last thing Albus would have wanted. But just like the year before, Harry Potter had proven himself no ordinary young wizard. Here he was, a boy of twelve, facing challenges grown witches and wizards would never dream of. Not only did he rise to the occasion, he overcame it.
As Harry regaled the room with his thrilling tale- one of puzzles and mysteries, of strange voices and secret potions, daring and danger- the wheels in Albus' mind began to turn. Naturally, it all made sense now. Parselmouth, a basilisk, what appeared to be the ghost of Tom Riddle controlling the entire operation, and this mysterious diary. Small pieces were clicking into place.
Yet still, there was that small bubble of pride.
In the end, this was only another test. Compared to what would surely come, an excursion into the Chamber of Secrets would seem like a pleasant outing. Should Albus arm Harry now, tell him the truth while he stood there, grinning and covered in muck? Should he ruin this night of glory? Take the victory form Harry's hands?
The conversation inched closer to the topic. Albus faced his second test.
He failed this one, too.
The end of year feast was now behind them. The students were trucking along home, aboard the great scarlet steam engine. The petrified people had been healed. The Chamber of Secrets was now closed. All seemed well.
Yet Albus was still troubled. The little black diary sat upon his desk, broken and stained with ink. The massive hole in the center where the basilisk fang had destroyed it still seemed to hiss ever so slightly, as though the presence which had haunted it still lingered. As though it were alive still, somewhere hiding.
Albus pressed the tip of his wand to the leather binding. The diary did not react.
No, the piece of Voldemort that lived in this diary was gone. But he was not gone, that much was evident. Harry had not destroyed Lord Voldemort last year, and he had not destroyed him now. Then what had haunted this diary? What magic was so powerful that it could have possessed Ginny Weasley and compelled her to open the Chamber of Secrets?
Albus shifted the diary aside, returning his attention to one of the many volumes of advanced dark magic that now littered his desk. The answer would not be in these pages, but perhaps there would be a clue, some passage that might make the mystery plain.
Albus suspected, though he could not prove, that this diary was connected to Harry. It was surely no coincidence that this had happened while Harry was at Hogwarts. Just as it was no coincidence that Quirinius Quirrell had been possessed by Lord Voldemort, that it was no coincidence Harry could speak Parseltongue, and that it was no coincidence that Tom Riddle had not died the night Harry hadn't.
Squinting through his half-moon spectacles, Albus flipped a page of Magick Moste Evile. A useless book, really, given he'd read through it five times already. Magic pertaining to the soul was rare, immortality was not possible. Not unless…Albus glanced up and picked up his wand.
Turning it over between his long fingers, he wondered. There were ways. Evil, vile ways of sustaining life. Albus set his wand down and picked up the diary again. Tom Riddle had not actually been alive down in the Chamber. Harry had described him as somewhat fuzzy, not fully formed. He had needed Ginny Weasley's life force to exist.
Albus looked at the wand again. Not Hallows, but…
Quickly he picked up Magick Moste Evile again, flipping to a page he wouldn't have otherwise considered relevant.
Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction.
Not Hallows. Horcruxes.
With a slightly shaking hand, he held up the diary again.
Tom Riddle had created a Horcrux.
A week later it occurred to him that Harry Potter must be a Horcrux too.