Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
This is a very loong chapter which is basically packed with information, many of which you already know from canon. But it's a necessary chapter, and the action will come soon, promised! And I hope you enjoy it and review, nonetheless. *winks*
Chapter 17
All thought of the lateness of the hour apparently forgotten, Dumbledore hurried around his desk, took the vial with Slughorn's memory in his hand, and strode over to the cabinet where he kept the pensieve.
"And now," said Dumbledore eagerly, placing the stone basin upon the desk and emptying the contents of the small flask into it. "Now, at last, we shall see. Orion, quickly…"
Orion inwardly sighed, wishing he could simply leave and go to his dormitory to get some sleep. He knew perfectly well what they would see, and he had hoped that the old coot would simply take the memory and let him be. Alas, it wasn't to be so. Therefore, he obediently bowed over the pensieve, and in an instant he felt his feet leaving the office floor…
He fell through darkness and swiftly landed in Horace Slughorn's office many years before. There was a much younger Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and his gingery-blond mustache, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in his office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallized pineapple. And Orion felt nothing when he stared at the long ago murdered wizard; not even a hint of regret for having handed Slughorn to Voldemort, to be killed. In his opinion, Slughorn had deserved that and much more for casting a compulsion mind web on Tom Riddle, and decades later on Lily Evans. Granted, his mother would have probably never married James Potter without being slightly compelled, and he would have never had Potter blood in him due to the consangri ritual that James and his mother had made him undergo when he was a baby. But still, the Aux Atrum had it coming, even if Slughorn had shown a modicum of repentance for his actions by breaking away from the Spirits, obliviating many of his own memories and disappearing for many years.
In the office, there were half a dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, with his grandfather's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger – it's gem the Resurrection Stone.
Though, as always, Dumbledore didn't remark on the ring as he landed besides Orion, just as Tom asked, "Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"
"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, waggling his finger reprovingly at the handsome teenager, though winking at the same time. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."
Tom charmingly smiled, the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks, all seeming to look to him as their leader. And Orion observed the young Tom Riddle with supreme impassiveness, though he peeled his gaze away from the boy soon. Part of him felt slightly pained that there was so little of this Tom left in Voldemort. Part of him wished that he still had locket Tom with him, or that Voldemort had merged with more horcruxes and not just with locket Tom. For he knew that everything between Voldemort and him would have gone much better if that had been the case. He remembered that with locket Tom they had reached a point of deep friendship and affection, where the portrait had even openly expressed his love for him, without fearing to appear too emotional and thus weak. Nevertheless, all chances of that were long gone, so Orion simply focused back on what was happening around him, his face devoid from any expression.
"…I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years," was saying Slughorn. "Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."
Tom Riddle merely smiled as the other boys laughed again, and Orion fleetingly thought, with a hint of sadness, that Minister of Magic was exactly what Tom should have been, if only the Spirits hadn't meddled in the boy's life.
"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," said Tom with humble modesty, when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."
A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other, as if enjoying a private joke. Orion noticed the Slytherin House crest on their robes, so it was obvious that these Slytherins already knew that Tom was Salazar Slytherin's Heir. They probably privately addressed Tom as 'Marvolo Gaunt' out of respect for his ancestry, if not as 'Lord Voldemort' already.
"Nonsense," said Slughorn briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet."
Orion side-glanced at Dumbledore, seeing a slight grimace on the old man's face while the old wizard fixedly gazed at Tom. There was a hint of sadness and regret in the grimace, and Orion was inwardly confused and surprised that Dumbledore was feeling the same as he was when Slughorn said those words. Was Dumbledore's sadness sincere? Or was the man purposely showing himself as such – to make him wonder if the old wizard really regretted having done nothing to prevent Tom from turning into Lord Voldemort. Orion would have shifted uneasily, but he didn't. Despite the doubts that Dumbledore occasionally managed to rise in his mind, he would end up killing the old wizard - for the Elder Wand and due to Dumbledore's past transgressions towards him and his father. Yet, he didn't like to be faced with Dumbledore's appearance of seemingly compunction and regret.
The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and the pot-bellied walrus looked around.
"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by in morrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."
Orion silently watched as Rodolphus' and Rabastan's father filed out of the room, amidst the other boys. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind made the wizard look around; Tom was still standing there, just like the first time Orion and Dumbledore had seen the memory, purposely modified messily by Slughorn. So far, everything was exactly the same.
"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect..."
Tom glanced at Slughorn, and said with humble politeness, "Sir, I wanted to ask you something-"
"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away," interrupted Slughorn, waving a hand impatiently.
"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?" said Tom, with perfect hesitation.
Slughorn stared at the boy, his thick fingers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass. "Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?"
Again, Orion could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork. But this time, unlike the first time when he had seen this memory, he caught something in Slughorn's small eyes. There was veiled satisfaction in those eyes, but also pained reluctance – Slughorn had achieved the task he was ordered to fulfill by the Spirits, but the old wizard wasn't proud of himself. And Orion knew, with a blazing certainty, that this was the exact moment in which Slughorn had started doubting the Spirits' methods. Just like he knew that Slughorn's loyalty towards the Spirits vanished after the wizard had compelled Lily Evans, following their orders. Thus, Orion realized that Slughorn must have broken away from the Spirits after fulfilling his task of casting a mind web on his most cherished and favorite student.
Nevertheless, this pained satisfaction in Slughorn's eyes was something he couldn't have picked up if he hadn't known that this Aux Atrum was precisely the one to have compelled Tom into researching ways to achieve immortality. The old walrus' acting skills were superb, as much as Tom's. Orion was now observing two masters at play, each with their own plans and secrets – an Aux Atrum yielder of powerful mind magic against Slytherin's Heir and future Dark Lord. Though, obviously, it was Tom who was being led by Slughorn and not the other way around. And Orion wished he could have been there to stop it from happening, while his deep-rooted hatred and contempt for the Spirits rose to unparalleled levels.
He side-glanced at Dumbledore again. The old wizard was intently observing Slughorn and Tom, attentively listening to them – this was exactly the part the old coot had been waiting for.
"Not exactly, sir," said Tom. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."
"No… well… you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom," said Slughorn, his tone slightly reproving. "That's very Dark stuff, very Dark, indeed."
"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you - sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously…." said Tom, his tone hesitant and casual, the flattery masterful and careful, none of it overdone. "I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could - so I just thought I'd…"
Orion was tempted to clap bitterly at their performance.
"Well," said Slughorn, not looking at Tom, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."
"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," said Tom, his voice carefully controlled though his excitement could be perceived.
"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."
Orion inwardly arched an eyebrow with contempt. Was this weak warning Slughorn's way to assuage his conscience and scruples regarding the path he had set for Tom to take? Had Slughorn told himself that with this warning he wasn't to blame for how Tom had turned out?
"How do you split your soul?" said Tom, and his tone of voice was now demanding, his hunger apparent, his longing evident and his expression greedy.
"Well," said Slughorn uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting n it I an act of violation, it is against nature."
"But how do you do it?" pressed on Tom impatiently.
"By an act of evil - the supreme act of evil. By commiting murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion -"
"Encase? But how - ?"
"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. "Do I look as though I have tried it - do I look like a killer?"
"No, sir, of course not," said Tom quickly. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend..."
"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Slughorn gruffly. "It is natural to feel some curiosity about these things... Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic…"
Orion wanted to scream and shoot a Killing Curse at the man, right away. Yet, his fingers only twitched, and outwardly he was calmly composed and merely listening to them with curious attentiveness.
"Yes, sir," said Tom. "What I don't understand, though - just out of curiosity - I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't three the second most powerfully magical number? Seven if the most powerful one, but that's too radical, and nothing good comes from extreme actions. But three would be safe. Three would be preferable, wouldn't three - ?"
In a flash, Dumbledore's head snapped around and Orion was pierced by the old man's gaze, at the same time that Orion almost choked on his own tongue. If he had been anyone else, he would have choked, gasped, and lost all the color of his face. And if it wasn't for his studied façade of supreme coolness, he would have raged and let out a furious tirade damning Voldemort to the deepest pits of hell. As it was, with skills honed under Grindelwald's strict training, every muscle of his face was under his tight control and nothing even twitched. He merely gazed back at Dumbledore with an expression of befuddlement and wonder, his expression of innocence utterly convincing. Dumbledore's gaze locked with his, and in it Orion could see the wheels turning in that sharp mind. Nevertheless, the old man's piercing stare wasn't accusing or reprovingly suspicious, it was merely sad and disappointed - deeply.
And Orion just knew that there was no way he could explain this. There was no way that Dumbledore would believe that this memory hadn't been masterfully modified, that Tom had only said 'three' instead of 'seven'. Or instead of 'six', like Voldemort had promised to modify this memory so that Tom would say 'six' – the most powerful number in the Dark Arts.
With a piercing pang, Orion felt deeply betrayed and hurt, though he knew this wasn't Voldemort betraying him by not modifying the memory as they had agreed on. This was Voldemort caging him to his side, making Dumbledore know where Orion's true allegiances lied with, closing a door for Orion, that which led to Dumbledore's good graces and trust.
Yes, Voldemort had effectually caged him, and it hadn't even crossed Orion's mind to check the memory before handing it to Dumbledore. He had implicitly trusted Voldemort to modify it as they had previously agreed. And this was the second time he slipped: the first, by not having foreseen that Voldemort would send someone to Durmstrang to recruit, and the second, by not checking this memory beforehand.
But Orion placed the blame wholly on himself, and his raging fury towards Voldemort mellowed away, slowly. He knew what the problem was, why he had slipped twice already: at some point along the way, during his relationship with Voldemort, he had come to truly trust the man, as much as he could given his own secrets. But it had been true, heart-felt trust. And he had still been in that mind-frame, not realizing the full consequences of what Voldemort had meant when saying that they were parting ways.
This was it. Voldemort would no longer be watching out for him, protecting and helping him. Voldemort would no longer act for his benefit as well as his own. The man would no longer plot with him, scheming together to reach their common goals. No, now he was on his own, spouseless and without Voldemort for a friend or a shoulder to rely on. He was... alone.
And he realized that the problem had been his lack of suspicion, his lingering trust towards Voldemort. But he no longer felt any trust towards his former spouse, not after this – not after being so importantly affected by Voldemort's dirty and underhanded tricks. Yet, Orion didn't blame Voldemort for this. He had also played dirty and slyly by showing Durmstrang students the memory in which he had tortured Voldemort. And if he had been alone, Orion would have proudly, yet bitterly, clapped at Voldemort's cunning and slyness.
Regardless, this did place him in a rocky situation with Dumbledore, and he didn't quite know how he would explain himself. With his mind rushing with a thousand thoughts per second, he knew Dumbledore wouldn't believe that Tom had merely said 'three'. 'Three' meant splitting one's souls trice and making only two horcruxes, since the third piece of soul, the master one, had to remain inside the wizard.
And Dumbledore had showed him the memory of Tom going to Hepzibah Smith and seeing the Slytherin locket and the Hufflepuff cup. Furthermore, years ago, he had fought with Dumbledore in the Gaunt's house, in order to flee with the Gaunt ring. He didn't believe the old man knew that he had been the boy with features so unlike his own, dressed in frayed and dirty muggle clothing, and speaking like a muggle street urchin. But Dumbledore had to suspect that the Gaunt ring had not only been the Resurrection Stone but also one of Voldemort's horcruxes. So that made three horcruxes which Dumbledore must be sure of. And the diary had to be added to that list. Granted, the old man had never seen the diary, but there was no way that the Weasley girl could have opened the Chamber of Secrets by herself. Thus, Dumbledore must suspect that a horcrux had been involved in that matter, all those years ago. So that made four horcruxes which Dumbledore must firmly suspect of, if he didn't count Orion himself. That was four already, and not only two horcruxes.
Therefore, Dumbledore would never believe that this memory hadn't been tampered with. But on the other hand, the old man didn't know that Slughorn was dead and currently being impersonated by Rodolphus Lestrange. Thus, Orion concluded that Dumbledore could only suspect that he had obtained this memory from Slughorn and then that he had modified it himself, in order to protect Voldemort. Nevertheless, now Dumbledore had proof that he was truly on the Dark's side – just what Voldemort had wanted to accomplish with this, along with protecting the secret of just how many horcruxes he had made.
Orion caught a glimpse of Dumbledore flicking his wand, casting something nonverbally. And he instantly knew what the man was trying to do – to detect if the memory had been modified by anyone. But nothing glowed red, and what they saw and heard didn't change – Voldemort had perfectly modified it, without leaving any traces of it.
"Merlin's beard, Tom!" was saying Slughorn. "Three! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case… bad enough to divide the soul… but to rip it into three pieces…"
Slughorn looked deeply troubled now. He was gazing at Tom as though he had never seen him plainly before, and as if regretting entering into the conversation at all. And Orion inwardly gritted his teeth, feeling a blaze of anger. Though he hardly knew at whom it was directed anymore: at Slughorn for being such a good actor and fulfilling what the Spirits had ordered him to do; at Tom for being tempted by immortality and for not unwittingly fighting against the compulsion on his mind, like his mother Lily Evans had done; at the Spirits for being the main cause of all the trouble and misery; or at Voldemort for giving Dumbledore such a solid proof that he was on the Dark's side, without warning him beforehand, leaving him to deal with Dumbledore - trapping him in a situation he hadn't prepared himself for.
"Of course," muttered Slughorn, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic…"
"Yes, sir, of course," said Tom quickly.
"But all the same, Tom... keep it quiet, what I've told - that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know... Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it..."
"I won't say a word, sir," said Tom, and he left, but not before Orion had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human - cruel, ruthless, and even slightly deranged in his own obsessions. Yes, Orion could clearly see it in Tom's face, and he felt sad and… disgusted…
"Thank you, Orion," murmured Dumbledore quietly. "Let us go…"
Orion peeled his gaze from Slughorn and Tom. He didn't want to see more. Yes, he felt disgusted by all of it - by Slughorn's actions, the Spirit's methods, and by the worse aspects of Tom's and Voldemort's personality.
When Orion landed back on the office floor, Dumbledore was already sitting down behind his desk. Orion sat too and waited for Dumbledore to speak, for he truly didn't have anything he wanted to say. He felt worn and tired, and just wanted to close his eyes and rest for a bit.
Dumbledore gazed at him from above his half-moon spectacles, and said in a quiet, gentle voice, "You obtained this memory from Horace Slughorn?"
"Yes," said Orion simply, meeting and holding his gaze.
"Was he very reluctant to part from it?"
Orion shrugged his shoulders, and said the first thing that crossed his mind, not truly caring if it sounded convincing or not, "Yeah, but I mentioned my mother and how she had sacrificed herself to protect me from Voldemort. I know Slughorn cherished my mum, so I started talking about her, the little I know, and about how Voldemort needs to be stopped and how any piece of information regarding him can be useful. We chatted for a long while, and Slughorn offered me some firewhiskey while he reminisced about my mother… And I think he got bit drunk, and after more persuasions, he finally gave me this memory."
"I see," said Dumbledore quietly, and his eyes weren't twinkling at all. Instead, they seemed aged, saddened and sorrowfully disappointed. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"
Orion blinked at him, perplexed, before he shook his head. "No. What could I possibly have to say? I'm just a bit surprised about what I heard in the memory. I mean, we've been reviewing several memories in which we saw some items, but I didn't imagine that-"
"Help will always be given to those who seek it."
Orion's eyes snapped up, locking with Dumbledore's baby blue gaze, and he stared at him in quietness. The silence was absolute, not even Fawkes was chirping. And he knew what Dumbledore was implicitly saying. The old man no longer doubted that he completely supported the Dark, and Dumbledore was reaching out a hand towards him, offering him a way out, protection and understanding, without reproaches concerning his past actions. He wondered just how far Dumbledore's protection would go – would the man devise a plan to kill Voldemort in which he didn't have to die because he was a horcrux? Would the man reveal his plans to him? Would Dumbledore tell him the truth of what he knew if he accepted this? Perhaps. Perhaps Dumbledore was truly trying his best to help him; he could see it in those light blue eyes. There was no recrimination there, and he could almost perceive something like sympathy in them. It confused him, and he didn't like it at all.
Regardless, this was an offer he couldn't take – or want to. And he only felt a slight twinge of regret, knowing that the wizard before him would soon die under his wand. But that regret was nothing in comparison to the need to obtain the Elder Wand and to dispose of the Light's Leader, in preparation for the war. Dumbledore was, above anything else, still his enemy.
"That's a very noble sentiment," said Orion placidly.
"I meant every word," said Dumbledore, before he leaned back on his high armchair, his gaze becoming distant and pensive, while he spoke in a low, quiet voice. "I've committed many mistakes during my life, Orion. And it would grieve me to see you making the same mistakes I did. Furthermore, you've always reminded me of two people whom I couldn't save. The first one, you say today in the memory; the young Tom Riddle, from whom great things were expected. I admit now, with sorrow and due blame, that I was blinded by my own prejudices, and that I didn't help him as I could have. Regretfully, he is lost to us now. The second person you remind me of, is someone who I cherished greatly, many years ago. I think you're astoundingly similar to him. And it grieves me to say that I lost him, and I was partly to blame, as well."
Orion kept his face expressionless, only showing a hint of curiosity and attentiveness. But he certainly didn't want Dumbledore to continue. The last thing he wanted was for the old man to talk about Grindelwald. Dear Merlin, he could see it clearly in Dumbledore's aged features: the wizard still loved Gellert, despite all the decades that had passed by. And he certainly didn't want to hear that. Grindelwald was a rocky subject – he had been a VA candidate, just like himself, and Orion wondered just how much Dumbledore knew about that. Nevertheless, he knew that the old man would only say vague things, nothing in concrete. And he wasn't up to play games with him, at present.
Dumbledore's gaze focused back on him, a wan smile breaking on his face. "Yes, you greatly remind me of him. But, lately, you remind me of myself when I was a bit older than yourself. I see you tired, burdened and troubled, uncertain about what decisions to make – I was uncertain as well. I deeply esteemed someone, and admired him with devotion, wanting to follow him in all his plans. I believed in those plans myself. His ideas captured me. But sometimes we learn that we shouldn't follow those we care about. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
"Not really," said Orion with a confused frown, though he understood perfectly.
Dumbledore saw himself in him because, like Dumbledore, he loved a Dark Lord. Twisted irony, there. Though, he wasn't happy at all to be compared to Dumbledore. Their cases weren't the same: Dumbledore had been a light wizard in love with a dark one, while he was a dark wizard who had been the spouse of another dark wizard - two of the same kind, not like Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Funnily enough, Dumbledore's past situation with Grindelwald must have been even messier than his relationship with Voldemort. But what left him wondering was if Dumbledore suspected how committed he had been to Voldemort. Did the man made the parallelism between them because Dumbledore knew that he loved Voldemort?… Or maybe he should say that he had loved Voldemort, because he certainly couldn't keep acting as if he did, that would only bring him more problems.
"Ah," said Dumbledore, warmly smiling at him, "then someday soon I'll tell you a bit more about my life, Orion. And then I hope you'll learn from my past mistakes and that it will help you find your way."
Orion offered him a smile back, and said politely, "I would be interested in anything you'd like to reveal to me, sir."
"Good, then that's a promise," said Dumbledore, with his usual benevolent expression. "One of these days we'll have a private and personal conversation between us. Now, the hour is late and we need our respective rest, so we should focus on the reason for this meeting." He pierced him with his spectacled eyes, and said at last, "I have been hoping to see the original memory you've brought me for a very long time. It's a piece of evidence which confirms the theory on which I have been working. It tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is still to go."
Orion suddenly noticed that every single one of the old head-masters and headmistresses in the portraits around the walls was awake and listening in on their conversation. A corpulent, red nosed wizard had actually taken out an ear trumpet. But what surprised him the most was that Dumbledore wasn't demanding to know the truth about how he had obtained the memory, or that the old man wasn't addressing the obvious modification of the memory. It seemed that Dumbledore was brushing those issues under the carpet, willing to let go of them in order to proceed ahead.
"Well, Orion," said Dumbledore, "I am sure you understood the significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you are now, give or take a few months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out how to make himself immortal."
"Yes, sir, but we knew that already," interjected Orion politely. "We already discussed that Voldemort must have made one or several horcruxes. We simply didn't know how many, and-"
"Precisely," said Dumbledore, beaming a smile, "and now we do know. Oh, Tom Riddle didn't split his soul only three times. Voldemort is an ambitious and overconfident wizard who would push himself beyond the boundaries of magic and, I dare say, of common sense. No, I think Tom Riddle went forward with his first option – seven. Certainly, he appeared to know that making so many horcruxes was a radical measure. But 'seven' is the most powerful magical number and Voldemort wouldn't settle for a second option he considered to be less powerful and magnificent. No, Voldemort wouldn't have chosen 'three'. I'm quite certain he chose to split his soul seven times, and thus, that he created six horcruxes. Six, since the seventh part of his soul, however maimed, resides inside his regenerated body. That was the part of him that lived a spectral existence for so many years during his exile; without that, he has no self at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Voldemort must attack - the piece that lives in his body."
"He made six horcruxes?" said Orion, horror-struck, while several of the portraits on the walls made similar noises of shock mid outrage. "But they could be anywhere in the world - hidden - buried or invisible -"
"I am glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of the problem," said Dumbledore calmly.
Orion nodded at him, his expression one of alarm and deep worry. Yet he didn't push forward his acting skills and he remained silent. There wasn't much he could say about that, and it didn't surprise him at all that Dumbledore wasn't revealing that Voldemort had actually made a seventh horcrux – him.
Nevertheless, Voldemort must have realized that Dumbledore would come to this conclusion. So why had Voldemort modified the memory to make Tom say 'three'? Sure, due to it Dumbledore knew that he fully supported the Dark, but wasn't Voldemort worried about the old coot knowing how many horcruxes had been created? Apparently, Voldemort wasn't concerned about that at all. Did it mean that Voldemort had made more?
No, if Voldemort had, then he would have lost his human appearance, leaving him with snake-like features, like had happened before, when Voldemort had made a horcrux with the diary's piece of soul the man had had inside him. That was until he had persuaded Voldemort to merge with a horcrux, and the wizard had done so, merging with locket Tom and recovering his human aspect. And currently, the piece of soul which had been in the diary was in the invisible wedding ring he was wearing. So it could only mean that Voldemort had placed some protective measures around his horcruxes, perhaps changing their location, or that the man was simply confident that Dumbledore wouldn't discover what the horcruxes were.
And Voldemort had a valid point there, since not many of the original six horcruxes remained. Not counting himself as one, because, really, he couldn't just think of himself as a mere horcrux, Orion listed the original horcruxes in his mind.
The diary, Gaunt ring, Slytherin's locket, Ravenclaw's diadem, Nagini, and possibly the Hufflepuff Cup he had seen in the memory of Hepzibah Smith's house-elf. The first five he knew for sure, as well as the location of those which remained. The only one he wasn't sure about was the Hufflepuff Cup, and he certainly didn't know where it was, though he had some suspicions.
Regardless, from those original six horcruxes, only three were still horcruxes: Nagini, Ravenclaw's Diadem of Wisdom, and Hufflepuff's Cup. The other horcruxes had been used and destroyed, or transferred to other recipients.
The first one to go had been the diary. Tom Riddle had used the life force of the Weasley girl; killing her, and thus, emerging from the diary alive. Then, that Tom Riddle had found Voldemort's bodiless soul, merging with him. That way, Voldemort had been brought back to life in the body of his younger self, just looking like a handsome, thirty-something year old wizard, due to the merging of the young soul with the master one. And Orion himself had destroyed the empty diary when he had found the Chamber of Secrets.
Moreover, stupidly enough, Voldemort had torn away from him that diary piece of soul he had merged with, creating another horcrux. Orion didn't know where that piece of soul had gone into, but ultimately, it had been plunged into his wedding ring. And Voldemort had given him the Slytherin wedding ring horcrux in an astounding show of trust. Again, Orion was aware that Voldemort's words to him were true, and that he was also to blame for the subsequent rupture of their marital relationship. Nevertheless, what mattered was that the diary's piece of soul had become a horcrux in the wedding ring he was currently wearing on his finger. Though, Voldemort would certainly ask to have it back once the wizard broke the magical marital bond between them.
The second original horcrux to have been used and destroyed had been Slytherin's locket. After creating a horcrux with the diary's piece of soul and losing his human appearance, Voldemort had obeyed him and merged with locket-Tom, thus regaining his looks - and his sanity, he dared say. So that horcrux was no more.
And the third and last original horcrux that was no more had been the Gaunt ring. He had transferred that piece of soul from the Resurrection Stone into the Black heirloom necklace that Voldemort currently always wore around his neck.
So in short, the diary had been replaced by the Slytherin wedding ring he was wearing, Slytherin's locket had merged with Voldemort, and it was never replaced by another horcrux, and the Gaunt ring had been replaced by the Black heirloom necklace.
Thus, at present, there were five horcruxes, not six: the Hufflepuff Cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, Nagini, the Black necklace, and the Slytherin wedding ring. And he knew the location of every one of them except the Hufflepuff Cup.
All in all, Orion had to admit that there was no way that Dumbledore would remotely suspect or discover the convoluted fates of the original six horcruxes. Voldemort had nothing to be concerned about, in that regard.
"So you really think he succeeded then, sir?" asked Orion, leaning forward as if greatly concerned about it, his eyes wide with aghast horror and disgust. "He made six horcruxes? And that's why he didn't die when he attacked me, when I was a baby? He had horcruxes hidden somewhere? Bits of his soul were safe?"
"Exactly," replied Dumbledore gravely. "You heard Voldemort, what he particularly wanted from Horace was an opinion on what would happen to the wizard who created more than one horcrux, what would happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be prepared to murder many times, rip his soul repeatedly, so as to store it in many, separately concealed horcruxes. No book would have given him that information. As far as I know - as far, I am sure, as Voldemort knew - no wizard had ever done more than tear his soul in two. Therefore, Voldemort would have wanted to surpass all others - he would have wanted to slip his soul seven times, not only thrice. And I believe he succeeded."
Dumbledore paused for a moment, marshaling his thought, and then said, "Four years ago, an occurrence happened at Hogwarts which I considered to be certain proof that Voldemort had split his soul."
"What happened?" asked Orion, his expression confused and curious, though he knew exactly what the old coot was alluding to.
"It was during your second year at Durmstrang," said Dumbledore quietly, gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Though I'm sure you've heard about what the newspapers pegged as the 'Re-opening of the Chamber of Secrets'. Indeed, Rita Skeeter mentioned this when she interviewed you and Neville Longbottom, for the Triwizard Tournament. And perhaps, some of your acquaintances at Hogwarts mentioned it to you."
"I recall vaguely reading something about it in the newspapers, sir," interjected Orion puzzled. "Something about the Weasley's daughter disappearing… about writings on walls, some students petrified… something about a monster…" He shook his head, and stared at the old man, aghast. "So it happened for real? Someone found and opened the legendary Chamber of Secrets? I thought it didn't exist-"
"It does, though neither I nor my staff has been able to find it," said Dumbledore calmly, though his light blue eyes were piercingly boring into his. "Indeed, I have every reason to believe that poor Ginevra Weasley was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets. Furthermore, since no one but a Parselmouth could have done so, I could only conclude that she had held a horcrux in her hands, and that she had been influenced by it."
Playing his role of being innocently clueless, Orion's eyes widened, and he gasped out, "The Weasley girl had a horcrux?! But how, sir? And what happened to her-"
"I fear that she died that very same year, her first at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, his expression grieved. "Her body was never found, but after that year there were some rumors regarding the reappearance of Lord Voldemort – with features younger than he should have had given his age. Moreover, three years after that, Voldemort made his presence known at the Department of Mysteries." He intently stared at Orion. "Where you found the prophecy and where it was heard by him and you. After which, Voldemort dissapparated from the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, carrying you with him. Thankfully, Professor Snape was able to retrieve you from Voldemort, acting following my orders and putting himself in danger. Nevertheless, those circumstances – the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, the disappearance of Ginevra Weasley, and the reappearance of Voldemort – made me realize that a horcrux had possessed Ginny Weasley, and ultimately killed her to come back to life. And it's only logical to deduce that it fused with Voldemort's bodiless soul, thus creating the Voldemort who now lives among us."
Orion stared at the old man, perplexed. But this time, it was for real, since he was astounded by Dumbledore's sharp mind. The old man had correctly deduced all that, only with scarce bits of information and with mere speculations. Dear Merlin, Dumbledore was a worthy adversary, indeed. Not only in magical prowess but also in intellect and sharpness of mind. He had known that before, of course, but he was being given further proof of just how great the old man's mind was.
"You - you must be right," stuttered Orion, conveying flabbergasted worry, whilst he mused if the old wizard knew that Lucius Malfoy had been the one to have given the diary to the Weasley girl. "So… Voldemort's bodiless soul somehow managed to give a horcrux to Ginevra Weasley?"
"No, I don't think it was him at all, even if Voldemort's bodiless soul had a way to possess someone for a period of time," replied Dumbledore calmly, intertwining his fingers on top of the desk. "Voldemort wouldn't be so careless with his horcruxes. The point of a Horcrux is, as Professor Slughorn explained in the memory we saw, to keep part of the self hidden and safe, not to fling it into somebody else's path and run the risk that they might destroy it. And I'm sure that Voldemort had never intended that one of his horcruxes would be planted on some Hogwarts student. He wouldn't be so remarkably blasé about the precious fragment of his soul concealed within it. Therefore, I believe that one of his Death Eaters had been protecting and guarding that horcrux. And this Death Eater, after so many years, believing that his Master wouldn't return, finally decided to dispose of the horcrux. Thus, covertly making it fall into Ginny Weasley's hands."
Orion gazed at him, puzzled. "Do you know who this Death Eater was?"
"I have some suspicions," said Dumbledore impassively, "but no solid proof."
"And you said that Voldemort had a way to possess a body when he had been nothing but a bodiless soul," interjected Orion befuddled, though he had an inkling about what the old man had been referring to - Quirrell- since he remembered how Draco had told him about the strange happenings during the boy's first year at Hogwarts. "What do you mean by that, sir? How's that possible?"
"You shouldn't concern yourself about that matter," said Dumbledore dismissively. "It was something of little relevance that happened at Hogwarts during your first year at Durmstrang. Now, let's get back to the original purpose of our discussion – Voldemort's six horcruxes." He pinned Orion with his gaze, and asked gently, "Would you like to guess what they are?"
"Er… well," said Orion, purposely frowning with pensiveness. "We saw the memory of Tom Riddle visiting Hepzibah Smith. There were two objects there: a Hufflepuff heirloom cup and a locket with an ornate 'S' inscribed on it – a Slytherin heirloom. So Voldemort could have used those objects to create horcruxes." He gazed up at him, his frown intensifying. "Maybe one of those two was the horcrux which influenced Ginevra Weasley-"
"I don't believe it was," interjected Dumbledore quietly. "An eleven-year-old girl carrying either heirloom would have been too noticeable. No, the horcrux which possessed and used Ginny Weasley must have been something ordinary, something a student could have without raising suspicions. If not, the Death Eater wouldn't have disposed of the horcrux by giving it to a student. And that horcrux was used, therefore, we are looking for only five horcruxes now. Nevertheless, I believe you're right. The Hufflepuff Cup and the Slytherin locket must be horcruxes."
"Alright, so we're looking for five horcruxes," said Orion, intentionally making his voice sound desperate and frantic. "And we only know what two of those five can be. But how will we find out what the other three horcruxes are? And how are we supposed to find them? They could be anywhere-"
Dumbledore raised a hand, and said calmly, "There's one other horcrux which I suspect about." He intently pierced Orion with his eyes, and continued, "In the memory we saw, did you notice what Tom Riddle was wearing on his finger?"
Orion inwardly tensed, though outwardly, he pulled a puzzled expression over his features. Dumbledore was at last mentioning the Gaunt ring. But how much was the old coot going to tell him about it?
"I didn't notice anything," replied Orion slowly, his forehead wrinkling with concentration. "Hmm, no. I don't remember seeing anything which captured my attention."
"Didn't you?" said Dumbledore loftily, his gaze boring into Orion's eyes. "Well, perhaps I shouldn't have expected you to be so observant… Tom was wearing a Gaunt heirloom, a ring he stole from his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, when he stupefied him and then went to Riddle House to murder his muggle father and grandparents. After being stupefied, Morfin woke up believing he had murdered the muggle Riddle family, and was thus incarcerated in Azkaban, and died there. Tom had implanted in Morfin's mind the false memories of the murder of the Riddle family. Nevertheless, when Aurors went to apprehend Morfin, he roared and bellowed about a ring that must have been stolen from him."
"A Gaunt heirloom?" said Orion confusedly. "So you think Tom used this ring to make a horcrux? But how can you be certain that the ring that Tom was wearing in the memory we saw is the Gaunt ring that Morfin had? We've never seen any memories about-"
"I have," interjected Dumbledore quietly. "You must excuse me, but I didn't show you a memory I had obtained from a Ministry official. A memory in which Marvolo Gaunt is wearing the ring."
Orion stared at him. Very well, this would be a test for Dumbledore. If the man really wanted to help him, if the wizard's supposed affection and concern for him were real, if his offer was honest, then Dumbledore should show him and tell him.
"And are you going to show me this memory, sir?"
"It's not pertinent, my boy," said Dumbledore gently, warmly smiling at him. "Very little is shown in that memory and I already related it to you. So there's no point in making you see it. The crux of the matter is that I'm certain that the Gaunt ring is a horcrux. Therefore, there are only two of the five horcruxes which we don't know about."
Orion was greatly tempted to let out a sharp, snide chuckle. Or to hit him squarely with a vicious dark curse. Dumbledore would never change. Despite the man's noble and benevolent façade, the old wizard was nothing but a Dark Lord in disguise. Just as sly, manipulative, secretive and sharp. Well, he supposed that Dumbledore was simply a Light Lord, and that as such he only differed from Voldemort in their ideals. Pity, but the old wizard had been given a chance. So, yes, Dumbledore had it coming.
"I will hazard a guess that," continued Dumbledore, "having secured objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, Voldemort set out to track down objects owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Four objects from the four founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over Voldemort's imagination. I cannot answer for whether he ever managed to find anything of Ravenclaw's. I am confident, however, that the only known relic of Gryffindor remains safe."
Orion glanced at the glass case imbedded in the wall behind Dumbledore, besides the perch where Fawkes was currently resting on. "Gryffindor's Sword."
"Precisely," said Dumbledore, shooting him a grandfatherly smile. "Voldemort never managed to get a hold of it. I'm inclined to assume that the fourth horcrux is a Ravenclaw heirloom."
"I see," said Orion, his expression one of eager interest. "And what could the fifth horcrux be?"
"Since I believe that a Ravenclaw heirloom is the fourth horcrux, then the last and fifth horcrux must be something else entirely. So far, we know that Voldemort used heirlooms for his horcruxes – three from Hogwarts' Founders and one from the Gaunt family. Furthermore, the horcrux which possessed and killed Ginny Weasley must have temporarily given her the Parselmouth ability, in order to open the Chamber of Secrets. In such way, that horcrux was a commemoration of Voldemort's Slytherin ancestry and subsequent Parselmouth skill." He pierced Orion with his eyes. "I believe the fifth horcrux was selected with this idea in mind, as well. There were no other heirlooms left to use, thus I think that Voldemort turned his pet snake into a horcrux."
"His pet snake?" mumbled Orion, dumbly blinking at him. Inwardly, he felt a spike of alarm. The old man was certainly too smart for his own good.
"Indeed," said Dumbledore, gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Nagini is her name, if my information is correct. And Voldemort rarely keeps her out of his sight. Moreover, in Voldemort's opinion, by turning a snake into his horcrux he would underline the Slytherin connection, which enhances Lord Voldemort's mystique. I think he is perhaps as fond of her as he can be of anything, and he certainly likes to keep her close. His Death Eaters rarely see her."
Orion stared at him confusedly. "I didn't know that animals could be used as horcruxes."
"Well, it is inadvisable to do so," said Dumbledore, "because to confide a part of your soul to something that can think and move for itself is obviously a very risky business. However, if my calculations are correct, Voldemort was still at least one horcrux short of his goal of six when he entered your James Potter's and your mother's house with the intention of killing you. He seems to have reserved the process of making horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. You would certainly have been that. He believed that in killing you, he was destroying the danger the prophecy had outlined. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure that he was intending to make his final horcrux with your death. As we know, he failed. After an interval of some years, however, he came back to life and he must have felt the urgency of making the last and sixth horcrux. Therefore, having already Nagini with him, he must have used her for that purpose."
"So in short," interjected Orion eagerly, and he didn't have to act it since he was quite happy that Dumbledore really didn't suspect what the five current horcruxes were, "the horcrux that killed the Weasley girl was used, and thus, it can be erased from the list. That leaves five horcruxes, which are: Hufflepuff's Cup, the Gaunt family ring, Slytherin's locket, the snake, and something that was once Ravenclaw's."
"An admirably succinct and accurate summary, yes," said Dumbledore. "However, we should not congratulate ourselves too heartily. Our quest is now to find them, and that's the most difficult task."
"Because they could be anywhere, right?" said Orion, pulling a dejected expression over his features. "They could be anywhere in the whole wide world."
"Well, I don't think Voldemort would hide them far away from his own location," interjected Dumbledore calmly. "As you now know, for many years I have made it my business to discover as much as I can about Voldemort's past life. I have traveled widely, visiting those places he once knew." He gazed at him from above his half-moon spectacles. "Some years ago, I stumbled across the Gaunt ring hidden in the ruin of the Gaunt's house. It seemed that once Voldemort had succeeded in sealing a piece of his soul in side it, he did not want to wear it anymore. He hid it, surely protected by many powerful enchantments, in the shack where his ancestors had once lived -Morfin having been carted off to Azkaban, of course- never guessing that anyone might one day take the trouble to visit the ruin."
"So you have the Gaunt ring with you?" said Orion excitedly, his expression so seemingly sincere that he knew that Dumbledore had no way of suspecting that he had been the boy who had stolen the ring right under his nose.
"I don't," replied Dumbledore, intently piercing him with his eyes. "Someone else had visited the Gaunt shack, minutes before me. At first, I thought it was a muggle boy who had accidentally stumbled upon it, searching for something he could later sell. However, we ended up having a short duel since I couldn't allow the boy to leave with the ring. Regrettably, this unknown young wizard escaped with it before I could prevent it. Therefore, I think that the Gaunt ring will be the most difficult horcrux to find and destroy."
"Oh," muttered Orion, blinking at him. "A wizard stole the ring… a Death Eater, perhaps?"
"No, a Death Eater would have no reason to search for a horcrux," said Dumbledore calmly. "And, in the first place, I don't think that any of them know what a horcrux is or that Voldemort has created several. I think this unknown wizard was acting independently - I've vastly wondered about this. Indeed, it's very intriguing."
"It sure is," said Orion with wide eyes. "Perhaps he was a light wizard. Perhaps there's someone out there with our same aim, unwittingly helping us… or perhaps purposely."
"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, smiling at him, though Orion didn't see any twinkling in the man's eyes. "Regardless, I've been looking for the horcruxes for a very long time. I think I may be close to finding one. There are hopeful signs."
Orion felt a flare of alarm, but he said with studied eagerness, "Really, sir? That's wonderful. I hope that I can be present when you bring it back with you and destroy it. After all, it will be useful for me to see how a horcrux can be destroyed-"
"Yes, it will be very useful for you to know," interrupted Dumbledore calmly, gazing at him with a benevolent expression on his face. "That's why I will take you with me to find the horcrux, once I'm sure of where it is."
"You will?" gasped out Orion, his expression one of cheerful happiness.
Inwardly, he was frantically trying to unravel what the old coot's plans were. How could Dumbledore possibly want to take him in search of a horcrux? The old man now knew for sure that he was on the Dark's side. What was Dumbledore playing at? Being invited to come along was completely unexpected. Furthermore, which horcrux had Dumbledore found?
From the currently real ones, it could only be the Hufflepuff Cup. Certainly not Nagini, the Black necklace that Voldemort wore, or the Slytherin wedding ring which was invisibly set on his finger. It couldn't be Ravenclaw's diadem either, since it was right here at Hogwarts and Dumbledore wouldn't need to go anywhere in other to fetch it. And from the objects that weren't a horcrux anymore, the locket and diary had been used and destroyed, and the Gaunt ring was in the Guild's temporary possession. Therefore, that only left the Hufflepuff Cup… or the false Slytherin locket! Yes, of course, he – Regulus had placed it there… Well, he certainly hoped that it would be the Hufflepuff Cup, since he had no concrete idea of where the Cup was and he would like to steal it if Dumbledore went for it. Nevertheless, he felt very uneasy by Dumbledore's invitation. He didn't have a clue about the man's purposes.
"Oh yes," said Dumbledore, smiling warmly. "I think you have earned that right."
"Thank you, sir!" piped in Orion, beaming a wide grin. No, he didn't like this at all. What was Dumbledore playing at?! Damn the old coot and his twisted and convoluted plans!
The headmasters and headmistresses around the walls seemed even less impressed by Dumbledore's decision; Orion saw a few portraits shaking their heads and Phineas Nigellus actually snorted. That caught his attention, and his gaze briefly met his ancestor's, who pointedly speared him with a stare, before going back to sleep as if the proceedings bored him.
Orion sat in thought for a moment, then decided to keep playing his part, even though it left him with a sour taste in his mouth. "So, our mission is to find the five remaining horcruxes and destroy them. Once done, Voldemort could be killed?"
"Yes, I think so," said Dumbledore. "Without his horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. The last horcrux that will be destroyed has to be Nagini, since Voldemort keeps her always by his side. Then, with all his horcruxes gone, you will have to confront and kill Voldemort, thus destroying the seventh piece of soul inside him. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his horcruxes."
"But I haven't got uncommon skill and power," said Orion, his tone of voice purposely humble and dejected.
"Yes, you have," said Dumbledore firmly. "You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can -"
"Love?!" snapped Orion with irritation, inwardly seething that the old man was still insisting on that version of the prophecy – that 'love' was the power that the Dark Lord knew not. Dumbledore really pretended to cast him towards his death, only armed with 'love' in order to confront Voldemort. Merlin's staff, did Dumbledore truly consider him to be so stupidly naïve?
"Yes, Orion, you can love," said Dumbledore sternly. "Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are, Orion."
Orion almost snorted. He was very aware of how 'unusual' he was, more than the old coot could ever fathom.
"So, when the prophecy says that I'll have 'power the Dark Lord knows not', it just means - love?" he asked, appearing to be let down.
"Yes - just love," said Dumbledore gently. "But Orion, never forget that what the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it so. I told you this when we met in Spinner's End, when you stayed there with Professor Snape after your muggle relatives were killed by Voldemort. I further explained to you the meaning of prophecy you heard in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort singled you out as the person who would be most dangerous to him - and in doing so, he made you the person who would be most dangerous to him!"
Orion frowned at him. "I know that. But it comes to the same -"
"No, it doesn't!" said Dumbledore, sounding impatient now. He pointed at Orion with a finger. "You are setting too much store by the prophecy!"
Orion gaped at him, before he clamped his mouth shut. The gall of the man! The old coot was the one who had been pressuring him with the prophecy all this time. Well, pressuring him with the interpretation that Dumbledore gave to the prophecy.
"But," said Orion in clipped tones, "you said the prophecy means that I have to kill Voldemort or that he will kill me. That either him or I have to kill the other-"
Dumbledore pierced him with his eyes, and said adamantly, "If Voldemort had never heard of the prophecy, would it have been fulfilled? Would it have meant anything? Of course not! Do you think every prophecy in the Hall of Prophecies has been fulfilled?"
"But," said Orion, bewildered, "but last year, at Spinner's End, you said one of us would have to kill the other-"
"My dear boy," interrupted Dumbledore vehemently, "only because Voldemort made a grave error, and acted on Professor Trelawney's words! If Voldemort had never murdered your mother, would he have imparted in you a desire for revenge? Of course not! If your father had not been forced to take the Dark Mark to protect you from Voldemort, would you have lost your father when he was apprehended by Aurors and Kissed for being an Azkaban escapee and a Death Eater? Would you have suffered due to your father's death? Would you have further despised Voldemort for it? Of course not, Orion! Would the Dursley have been killed by Voldemort, leaving you without any other direct relatives? No! Don't you see? Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back! Voldemort is no different! Always he was on the lookout for the one who would challenge him. He heard the prophecy and he leapt into action, with the result that he handpicked the man most likely to finish him - you!"
Orion could hardly believe what he was hearing. He didn't blame Voldemort for what had happened to Sirius! Dumbledore had been there as well – Dumbledore had done nothing when the Aurors captured his father, the old man didn't lift a finger even when Severus had told him that Pettigrew had been alive! Furthermore, Dumbledore could not honestly believe that he hated Voldemort because the wizard had killed the Dursleys. That had been a blessing, and unbeknownst to the old man, he had killed Vernon himself. Moreover, he had no idea why the old coot was spouting this nonsense all of a sudden.
"But -"
"It is essential that you understand this!" said Dumbledore loudly, standing up and striding about the room, his glittering robes swooshing in his wake - Orion had never seen him so agitated. "By attempting to kill you, Voldemort himself singled out the remarkable person who sits here in front of me! You and he are alike, and he wanted to persuade you to his side, but ultimately, you did the right thing and turned away from him. In the end, with Professor Snape's guidance, you understood some of your past mistakes and you didn't allow yourself to be completely seduced to the Dark's side, even though you study the Dark Arts at Durmstrang. And never, for a second, did you show the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort's servants, even though I know that you must have been tempted to do so, given the dark pureblood upbringing you had during your years at Durmstrang and during your interlude with the Malfoys as your guardians. Despite the Dark influences in your life, you never bowed to Voldemort! And you chose the right path due to your ability to love those around you! That's the only thing that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort's!"
Orion wanted to yell – this was all rubbish, and surely Dumbledore knew it! Nymphadora had told the old coot that he had still visited Riddle Manor. Oh, no, he hadn't bowed to Voldemort - he had repeatedly shagged the Dark Lord! And even if Dumbledore didn't know that, the old man certainly knew that he had been very close to Voldemort. He simply didn't understand where Dumbledore wanted to go with this.
"But, sir," said Orion, making valiant efforts to appear as if he bought all the nonsense, while he tried to direct the conversation in order to understand what was going on, "it all comes to the same thing, doesn't it? I've got to try and kill him, or-"
"Got to? Of course you've got to!" cried Dumbledore, and Fawkes squawked out of his peaceful dozing at the outburst. "But not because of the prophecy!" He tightly grasped Orion's shoulders -who stared up at him with startled, wide eyes- and said vehemently, "The prophecy does not mean you have to do anything. You are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But beware, because even though Voldemort has lately shown no wish to kill you, it doesn't mean that he won't. He heard the prophecy and he believes in it. He will never stop hunting you, my boy, until he makes sure that he's the survivor and the one in control. Maybe, he'll force you to become his servant, but just as likely he might have a future reason to kill you. And you have the choice of killing him before he does! It's the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high and with a steely determination in the choice you made on your own. The prophecy means nothing! But your choice does. Do you understand?"
Orion numbly nodded, and the only thought that frantically reverberated in his mind was 'He knows, he knows, he knows…' And indeed, Orion finally understood why Dumbledore was saying all those things to him. The old coot had an inkling about the real interpretation of the prophecy, and Dumbledore didn't want him to follow it – voicing this without saying it, the warning implicit, but not straightforward since Dumbledore was probably unsure about how much he knew. But one thing was clear: the old man didn't want him to be successful in killing a Dark Lord.
Dumbledore wanted him to die, so that the piece of soul inside him would be destroyed. Thus, so that Voldemort could be killed by Dumbledore himself. Also, the old goat wanted him to disregard the prophecy, perhaps knowing that he knew what it truly meant regarding the power he would obtain if he killed a Dark Lord, to thus set himself on the path of having all the Hallows and becoming the Vindico… Yes, that was why Dumbledore was telling him that he didn't have to go along with what the prophecy foretold…. But just how much did Dumbledore suspect about the real interpretation of the prophecy? He fiercely and frenziedly wanted to demand answers from the old coot, but he couldn't. Not now, or he would destroy his flimsy cover as a Light-sympathizer.
He barely heard what Dumbledore said to him - something about letting him know when they would go out to fetch a horcrux. He barely paid any attention at all while he was dismissed from the old wizard's office. And his mind was buzzing with a myriad of confused thoughts while he made his way towards Gryffindor's Tower.
Simply put, he was out of his depth – he didn't remotely comprehend the intricacies of whatever Dumbledore was planning. There were too many hidden secrets between them, their conversations a convoluted game of speaking without revealing too much, of implicit innuendoes and offerings of allegiance, of half-truths and veiled persuasions… In the end, he couldn't decipher what was on Dumbledore's mind. There were only a few things he knew for certain: that Dumbledore would use him to search and destroy the horcruxes, that the old goat was prepared to stand by his side to kill Voldemort, that he was supposed to valiantly sacrifice his life so that the piece of soul inside him was destroyed, and finally, that even though Dumbledore might care for him in some measure, the old man's priority was to see Voldemort dead. Therefore, Dumbledore considered him to be an ally in the quest of destroying the horcruxes. But that would only be temporarily, since it was patently clear to Orion that Dumbledore was nothing more than his enemy.
"Speak," said Orion sharply, aggravated and tired.
He was sitting on the toilet seat, behind the closed and spelled door of the bathroom stall of his Gryffindor dormitory. And he had Phineas Nigellus' miniaturized portrait in his hands, who was darkly scowling at him.
"That's no way to greet your ancestor, young man," said Phineas indignantly, sternly glaring at him. "I care not if you're the Head of Black House, you will watch your tone with me, or-"
"Or what?" interjected Orion, arching an eyebrow.
Phineas shot him a malevolent glare, and huffed, before he viciously smirked. "Or I will ask Walburga to set Kreacher on you. That's a very nasty little house-elf, isn't it? Could make your life miserable-"
"He can't," scoffed Orion utterly unfazed. "I'm the Head of Black House and Kreacher has to obey me, first and foremost, even over his Mistress."
"Well, don't get high and mighty with me or I'll return to my portrait in the old man's office," said Phineas crisply. "It was you who unearthed this portrait from your school trunk and called me – after ages of not talking to me, or caring how I was doing."
"You're a portrait, for Merlin's sake," interjected Orion impatiently. "You're always doing fine, Phineas. So spare me the dramatics. I'm tired and I had a long day-"
Phineas loudly snorted, eyeing him reprovingly. "I dare say that you had a long day. What were you doing with the old goat, young man? Plotting about destroying the Dark Lord's horcruxes? Have you taken a leave of all your senses?! What kind of spouse are you that-"
"You know that I was simply playing along with Dumbledore," interrupted Orion shortly, feeling his tiredness feeding his irritation. "I was trying to discern what the old coot is planning. And I'm still trying to do so. I'm flummoxed, to tell you the truth. And you pointedly stared at me, back in the office, because you obviously know something. So spill."
"I don't like how you're turning out," grumbled Phineas, glowering at him. "You used to be such a polite boy. You used to respect your elders and ancestors."
Orion heavily sighed. "Fine, I apologize. Now, please, esteemed and revered ancestor, will you please tell me whatever it is you have to say to me?"
"No need to get cheeky, young man," snapped Phineas with a huff. "But I will tell you, only because I want to get back to sleep." He pierced Orion with his dark grey eyes, and said conspiratorially, "The old man discovered the location of one horcrux, two weeks ago. I saw him muttering and planning one late night." He widely smirked. "Furthermore, I know how a hocrux can be destroyed. Dumbledore mumbled about it. You see, he likes to speak to those silver, puffing gadgets of his, because some of them are used to focus your thoughts and ideas, and-"
"Yeah, that's very interesting," said Orion impatiently. "But I don't see how this is relevant. Do you know which horcrux it is? Do you know its precise location?"
"No," replied Phineas sharply. "As I told you, the old man was merely planning and mumbling. But I do know that he'll go for it soon. Moreover, the important issue is that Dumbledore knows how a horcrux can be destroyed: with basilisk poison, fiendfyre, or the Gryffindor swo-"
"Fiendfyre?" said Orion quickly, intently staring at the portrait. "Are you sure about that?"
"It's what I'm telling you, isn't it?" snapped Phineas short-tempered. "Dumbledore discovered that a few weeks ago, in some obscure book." He regally waved a hand, and said importantly, "Not that I didn't already know about that. I, myself, studied the obscurest and most secretive of Dark Arts and I know everything there is to know about horcruxes-"
"Of course you do," said Orion with dry amusement, knowing that his ancestor had been utterly clueless about the subject, before hearing it from him and Dumbledore. He tapped a finger on his lips pensively. "Fiendfyre, you say… Well, that's good to know. So there are only three methods, then: to use basilisk poison, the fiendfyre spell, or a powerful Light artifact like Gryffindor's sword, which already has basilisk poison imbued on its blade…"
"Exactly," interjected Phineas curtly, piercing him with narrowed eyes. "And you, young man, must stop Dumbledore from destroying your spouse's horcruxes."
"Voldemort isn't my spouse anymore," said Orion dismissively.
"I beg your pardon?"
"What you heard," said Orion impatiently. "The Dark Lord is going to sever the marital bond between us. And good riddance to him, I dare say. I'm looking forward to be free and enjoy a break after I'm 'divorced'."
"Absolutely not!" spat Phineas with indignant anger, looking quite unsettled and fierce. "Purebloods do not 'divorce'! That's a thing for filthy muggles, and I won't have you besmirching the honor of Black House by severing your marital union with him. It's unheard of in our circles! It would be a stain in our noble history, a scandal for Black House, a debasement of the Black name and bloodline. And you will not bring down Black House's unparalleled social standing by doing something so contemptible and infamous. You will not allow your union with the Dark Lord to be broken! Do I make myself clear, young man?!"
"I get your point," replied Orion coolly. "But I will allow it to happen. It's beneficial for me. Moreover, Black House will not lose its standing or honor because of it, Phineas. I'm powerful and influential enough, so I will not lose face. And I don't want to discuss this subject any further. Besides, the point is that I will stop Dumbledore from destroying any horcrux. So if this is all, I'll bid you goodnight-"
"This is not all!" snapped Phineas angrily, darkly scowling at him. "I firmly and resolutely object to the rupture of the union between the Dark Lord and you! And I will bring this up to Arcturus and Walburga-"
Orion scoffed. "Do tell them. Arcturus' portrait hasn't said a word to me in ages, but I know he silently witnessed several things which are much more important – like how Sirius is alive." He eyed Phineas, and added with scorn and bitterness, "And do tell my loving mother, but I'll viciously hex Kreacher if she sends him to annoy me with her complaints."
And he immediately pocketed the miniaturized portrait, hearing Phineas' muffled voice yelling and demanding answers, while he stood up to leave the bathroom. In his way, he briefly halted in his steps, and blinked. Mother… He had called Walburga 'mother' and he had called his father 'Sirius'… Well, he had done it unwittingly, and those slips of the tongue were something which frequently happened to him. Indeed, nowadays he always called his father 'Sirius' instead of 'Dad', and once he had almost said 'brother'. But he was no longer worried about it.
He had absorbed as his own the recollections of his past lifes, even if more of them had been halted by Vagnarov's block. Moreover, he did think of himself as Regulus Black, whenever he mused about the wizard and remembered his life. Actually, he thought of himself as Sextus Black and all the others as well. But it no longer fazed him. He had finally accepted it calmly. And in a strange way, he felt that the recollections of those lives completed him somehow – letting him know who he had been, and more importantly, what kind of wizard he had been. Always dark, often vicious and ruthless, and very infrequently a victim. And there was also a personality-wise pattern. As far as he could recall, he had started as a very cold, fierce, unscrupulous and powerful wizard, then somehow slowly mellowed through the ages into someone like Regulus, just to remerge as himself – a Vindico candidate, very powerful. And, in personality, also a combination between those opposite ends; between Regulus Black and that first reincarnation he vaguely and hazily remembered from a memory. And, all in all, he felt satisfied with the apparent progression of his soul's rebirths.
Five days had passed by since his meeting with Dumbledore, and Orion was currently in his bedroom in Potter Manor. He had apparated there from Black Manor, after disapparating from the Chamber of Secrets, as usual. He had come in to leave his stuff before going in search of Grindelwald to have one of their training sessions. That was before he had caught the reflection of himself on the full-bodied mirror. He was now staring into it.
His eyes were bleary with exhaustion and his face was pale, and he could even feel his tiredness seeping into every muscle of his body. Furthermore, he often felt dizzy and nauseous, and had a hard task in keeping his lunch in his stomach. He frequently resorted to drinking chamomile and ginger tea, to settle down his stomach. It was clear that the potion he was daily imbibing would lead him to an early grave if he didn't stop taking it soon.
But in his reflection, he had also noticed something else. There was a faint stubble above his upper lip and along his jaw-line. That was a first for him. It seemed that he was a late bloomer in facial hair. And his skin prickled uncomfortably and his lips twitched. He reached out a finger to touch his stubble – it felt somewhat soft, not coarse or rough, but it was annoying and gave him an untidy appearance.
Orion glanced at the items that Daisy had fetched for him. There, besides the full-bodied mirror, on top of a chest of drawers, was a silver basin filled with water, two moist and warm towels with the Potter crest, and an antique-looking razor that the late elder Potter, James' father, had used in his days. There was also some sort of foaming cream that Daisy had told him to use, along with a pot with some pleasant-smelling ointment that he had to apply on his face, later.
Quite frankly, he was a bit reluctant. He would rather ask Sirius to be the taught a spell for shaving. But he had inquired after his father, and Daisy had told him that the wizard was ensconced in the master study of Potter Manor, behind doors spelled locked. There was no doubt in his mind that Sirius was in one of his depressed moods. So he had decided to leave the wizard alone. And he didn't want to go in search of Grindelwald looking like he did. Moreover, he was much too tired to search for a spell in Potter Manor's vast library.
Therefore, with a heavy sigh, Orion carelessly applied the cream on his face and grasped the razor. The instant he inched its blade towards his face, his wrist was suddenly grasped.
Startled, Orion's eyes snapped up to the full-bodied mirror, and he saw Grindelwald standing behind him, the wizard's reflected hawk-like gaze inspecting him with amusement.
"Do you actually know what you're doing, mein junge?" said Grindelwald, crookedly smirking at him.
"Not really," said Orion dryly. "I didn't hear you come in. You move too stealthily when you want to, old man. How did you know that I was in the Manor?"
"I felt you the moment you apparated in," replied Grindelwald dismissively, as he shifted to stand directly behind Orion, pressing his chest on Orion's back.
Orion blinked. "What do you mean that you felt - Oh, never mind. There's no need for you to stay. I'll look for you once I'm done."
"And risk that you might seriously injure yourself?" scoffed Grindelwald. "Nein, I'll teach you how it's done. I, myself, prefer to shave the old way. It lasts longer than if you use some spell." He widely smirked, and wrapped an arm over Orion's chest to trail a finger along Orion's jaw line. "Though you barely have anything there, mein junge."
Orion scowled at the wizard's reflection. "If you're going to mock me-"
"I wouldn't dream of it," said Grindelwald toothily grinning, while he splat more cream on Orion's face, slowly spreading it. "Now, be absolutely still and watch how it's done in the mirror."
"Alright," grumbled Orion, relinquishing the razor to the wizard's grasp.
Grindelwald tightened his arm around Orion's chest, and used that hand to grasp Orion's chin, making him rest his head on the older wizard's shoulder, with his neck stretched and arched backwards. Thus, Orion could only see what the wizard did by gazing into the mirror with half-lidded eyes cast down.
"You're trusting me to do this," said Grindelwald conversationally, sliding the razor's blade along Orion's left cheek, in short and clipped sweeps. "And you're a fool because of it." He halted his movements, and left the razor pressed against Orion's neck. He bore his hazel gaze into Orion's reflected eyes, and murmured while he pressed the blade a bit deeper, "Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you right now, mein junge? A swift cut through your throat, and you would bleed to death in a few seconds."
Orion had immediately tensed in startled alarm, yet he couldn't move a single muscle. His eyes frantically widened. Grindelwald's arm across his chest trapped him, but he couldn't move. And given his strength, he should be able to shove the German wizard away. No, the wizard must have surreptitiously cast a wandless immobilizing spell on his body. And he hadn't even noticed it.
"What are you playing at?" spat Orion angrily, though he didn't show how stunned and unsettled he was. He immediately discovered that he could move his head, so he snapped it back against the wizard's shoulder, to side-glance at him with narrowed and furious eyes, while he felt drops of blood trickling from the point of contact between his neck and the razor's blade. "What are you doing, Gellert?!"
Grindelwald gazed down into Orion's eyes, jerkily tightening his grip on Orion's chin, almost nose-to-nose with him, as he whispered, "I told you, repeatedly, that you can never trust anyone." His lips curved into a smirk, and he murmured into Orion's ear, "Do you have any idea of how tempted I am right now, mein junge? You lowered your guard with me, and you're helpless in my arms. I could kill you in the bat of an eyelash. Yes… I could kill you and your dark magic would come to me… It would be absorbed into my inner magical core, and I could reemerge as a Dark Lord… I could contact my former followers and instantly gain the loyalty of their children and grandchildren. I could raise up a mighty army in a month, and I could kill Voldemort and be the only Dark Lord left… I would have the Hallows currently in your possession, and I would obtain the Elder Wand." His smirk widened, and his piercing gaze into Orion's eyes intensified. "And then, I could undergo the Vindico test, and I would survive it, since I would have your magic and Voldemort's already inside me."
"What the bloody hell?!" yelled Orion furiously. "Release me, Gellert, or I will use my dark magic against you! Release me - NOW!"
Orion winced when he felt the razor's blade piercing his skin again, drawing out more trickles of blood, while he saw Grindelwald's fingers grasping the razor jerkily.
"I told you that you had to kill me soon," whispered Grindelwald sharply, pinning Orion's face in place by painfully tightening his grip on Orion's chin, making Orion's neck arch tautly. "I told you that the pull of my magic would affect me the moment you broke me out of my Nurmengard cell. I told you that it would increasingly affect me during every the weeks and months of my freedom. I was serious about that. Do you understand now, mein junge?"
"I do!" spat Orion irately. "And this is a very sick way of showing it to me. I get it, alright – I get it! I have to kill you soon, before you are tempted to kill me in order to garner power."
Grindelwald widely smirked down at him, and removed the razorblade from Orion's neck. "Precisely, mein junge. You cannot dally in your duty to me."
"Fine," snapped Orion hotly. "Now cancel the spell you casted on my body and leave me the fuck alone. I'll shave myself."
"Nein, I will still do that, and you'll learn how to do it," said Grindelwald impassively. "We have a number of things to discuss in the meanwhile."
"I will not let you use that razor on me again," spluttered Orion angrily.
"You will. Now hush, observe and listen," said Grindelwald quietly, while he sunk the blade into the water in the silver basin, before he brought it up again to raze Orion's jaw in precise and swift sweeps. "Look into the mirror to see how it's done – don't make me lose my patience with you, mein junge."
Orion darkly and furiously glared at him, before he glanced at his and reflection and Grindelwald's. The wizard was actually crookedly smirking at him now, while he continued to shave him.
"See how it's done?" said Grindelwald pleasantly. "It's fairly simple, mein junge. Short, clipped moves, controlling the precision of the blade against the skin…" He forced Orion's neck to arch tautly even further. "The neck must be stretched when shaving it… the skin needs to be smooth… Ah, and there, we're almost done…"
The wizard dropped the razor into the silver basin and swiftly draped a moist and warm towel on Orion's face, gently sweeping it along to remove the cream and any traces of cut hair. With pot in hand, he sunk two fingers into the ointment and wrapped an arm around Orion's chest once again, as he applied it with soft touches on Orion's cheeks, neck, jaw line and on the tender area above the upper lip.
Orion exhaled, Grindelwald's touches calming him down while the ointment felt pleasant and fresh, soothing his slightly sore skin.
"There - it wasn't that bad, was it?"
Suddenly, Orion felt a tingle around his body, and he instantly wheeled around and shoved Grindelwald away from him.
"You twisted bastard!" he spat, glaring at the man who stumbled a step back. "If you wanted me to know how you were being affected by your pull, you could have simply told me, Gellert! Besides, the deal was that I would kill you after I had killed Dumbledore-"
"The deal was that you would kill me once you obtained the Elder Wand," interrupted Grindelwald sharply. "Albus' death is not a requisite."
"Same thing," said Orion crisply, scowling at him. "I will kill the old goat to get the Elder Wand."
"As you like," interjected Grindelwald coolly. "But my point is that that was the deal between us. It isn't any longer." He pierced him with his hazel eyes, and said sharply, "I can no longer promise that I won't kill you. I can no longer ascertain how much my pull will further affect me. I was being honest, mein junge. I'm very tempted at present to go back to my old ways. And that's not something I want. Thus, you will kill me as soon as possible - whether you have obtained the Elder Wand or not. You don't need my training anymore. At present, you're perfectly able to defeat Dumbledore, if you put your efforts on it."
Orion clenched his jaw and instantly whipped out his wand, pointing it straight at the old wizard, as he demanded briskly, "Do you want me to kill you right now, Gellert?"
"Ja," said Grindelwald, crookedly smirking at him. "I'm ready, mein junge."
"Well, go to hell, because I'm not-"
"You must!" snarled Grindelwald, angrily narrowing his eyes at him. "Despite temptations, I don't want to regain my former days of glory. I told you that the only reason why I wanted to be free was to train you. And I have done my part. Your training is complete. These last months, we have merely reviewed dark curses and you have merely practiced further how to use your dark magic in its wild and pure state. There's nothing left for me to teach you."
"But you said you had something to tell me," interjected Orion crisply. "You said it was important."
"Ja, it is," said Grindelwald in a steely tone of voice. "That's why I'm going to tell you about it now. But only after you tell me exactly when you're going to kill me – and it must be soon, mein junge."
Orion lowered his wand and carded a finger through his hair, while he said quietly, "Fine. Let's sit down, then."
Grindelwald curtly nodded and swiftly spread himself elegantly on a plush couch, in the sitting area at one side of Orion's bed. Meanwhile, Orion had swiped the unused towel along his neck, gazing at the mirror to discover that the small cuts that Grindelwald had made along his throat had already healed, leaving no scars behind.
Then, he sat on a couch across from the old wizard, and intently gazed at him. "You say there's nothing left for you to do. What about Sirius? You were teaching him how to-"
"I've been training your father," interrupted Grindelwald coolly, "for over four weeks, ten hours a day. He masters Occlumency as much as he ever will. Moreover, the compulsion mind web you casted on him will do the rest of the work. You have nothing to fear. Your father won't be able to slip anything about you if he goes to Dumbledore and the Order to spy for you. He's ready. Furthermore, I made him practice countless dark curses, and he's gotten fairly good at them. Which was no surprise." His lips quirked upwards. "He is a Black, after all. A renegade Black, but still a dark wizard due to his blood. That's something I think he's already aware that he'll be unable to ignore, as much as he tries."
"Okay, I'll take your word for it," said Orion in clipped tones. "But your usefulness to me hasn't expired. I could still use you to-"
"As much as I enjoy being used by you, mein junge," said Grindelwald, shooting him a toothy grin, "I will have to refuse. You're not going to annoy me with any other wizards that you ask me to train, if that was the idea you had in mind."
"It wasn't that," said Orion nonchalantly. He widely smirked at him. "Actually, I want to reveal your existence to Durmstrang's students."
One of Grindelwald's eyebrows shot upwards, before he let out a crow of rambunctious laughter, slapping his knee with a hand. "Mein Bart, excellent idea, mein junge! Indeed, I would vastly enjoy it." He loudly chuckled, shaking his head with amusement. "I can already see it… You want to present me to them, as your supporter, your mentor, your ally even… Ja, stupendous way of solidifying your leadership. No doubt that you will reveal the glorious way in which you freed me from Nurmengard…"
"Exactly."
"Gut, very gut," said Grindelwald, broadly smirking at him. "I accept." His eyes hardened and he pierced Orion with his hawk-like gaze. "But only if it's done soon, and if you kill me immediately after. It would be spectacular if you killed me before them, but I'm afraid that I want it to be a private matter between us. Nevertheless, I will tell them that I'm dying for you. That ought to be enough."
"Alright," said Orion quietly. "Now tell me this important bit of information you have been dangling in front of me."
"Nein," interjected Grindelwald sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "Stop dallying around the issue and tell me once and for all when you're going to kill me. Only then, will I reveal to you that information."
Orion sighed, and gazed up at him. "After school lets out. It's only two weeks from now. So the day after school year is over, I'll take you to Durmstrang so that we can meet with the student body. Then, as you asked of me, I promise that I'll kill you."
"Even if you don't have the Elder Wand?" demanded Grindelwald sharply. "Even if you haven't killed Albus?"
"I will have killed the old coot by then!"
"Answer me!" snapped Grindelwald impatiently. "You must kill me, regardless. So give me your word that you'll do it."
"Fine," said Orion crisply, scowling at him. "You have my word, Gellert. I will kill you two days after school ends. One day after I reveal your existence to Durmstrang's students."
"Gut, it's a deal, then," said Grindelwald, toothily grinning while he comfortably stretched back on his couch.
Orion glared at him with annoyance. "The information, Gellert."
The wizard widely smirked, and spread out a hand. "Accio treatise!"
In a few moments, a thin booklet came shooting into the room, right into Grindelwald's hand, and the wizard tossed it to him. Deftly, Orion caught it in mid air, and glanced down at it, his eyebrows shooting upwards.
"Ja," said Grindelwald with a crowing chuckle. "It has quite a catching title, doesn't it? 'Treatise on Wizard superiority over Muggles. By Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore'. Published in 1899 into general wizarding circulation. Winner of the Barnabus Award for Ground-Breaking Contribution to the Wizarding World. And Albus was turning eighteen when he wrote it."
"Dumbledore wrote this? About wizards being superiors to muggles?" choked out Orion with wide eyes, while he flipped the pages and scanned what was written there.
Grindelwald smirked at him with the air of someone extremely pleased and satisfied. "Ja, indeed he did. It must seem to you to be quite hypocritical of Albus, correct?"
"Of course," snapped Orion, his gaze not leaving the pages of opened booklet. "I can't believe it! He has some nerve… always spouting to me his muggle-loving ideals, and he wrote something like this! … I have to read this-"
"No need for you to do so," interjected Grindelwald conversationally. "I can tell you exactly what's written there. In short, Albus expresses the same ideas that dark wizards have concerning muggles. Oh, it's a very detailed and well-researched treatise. A systematic exposition and methodical discussion of the facts and principles involved to ascertain that we, wizards, are indeed biologically superior to muggles. He even came up with a name for our kind, out of some muggle scientific term… It's quite amusing. He concludes that wizards are a whole different species, separate from the muggle one. We are, in his printed words 'Homo sapiens magus' – 'magus' for the Latin word for 'magical'. Muggles are simply 'Homo sapiens sapiens', if I remember correctly. I never understood why Albus chose to categorize our kind using a scientific muggle term, but there it is. And he even drew out and employed the evolutionary theories of a famous muggle – Darwin, I think the name was. You see, according to what Albus discovered, we wizards are the next evolutionary step, and muggles are merely a retrograde species which will eventually extinguish, since we are superior to them - biologically, given that we have magic contained in our blood. Magic which we can yield, magic which is controlled a by portion of our brain which muggle brains don't, and can't, use."
"And what about magical creatures?" said Orion, deeply interested.
"Ah, well, in that treatise there's an intricate and detailed categorization for every being of the Magical World," replied Grindelwald, with a wide smirk. "Pureblooded creatures, like Chimeras, Sphinxes, Gryphons, Basilisks, Dragons, and the sort, are 'sapiens' since they are intelligent beings. But Albus didn't peg them as 'Homo', since they are not humans. On the other hand, half-breeds, who are part creature and part human, like werewolves and vampires, are part of our 'Homo sapiens magus' species but they are a subspecies of it. And…Hmm, well, Albus got it wrong in that instance, because he wrote that Dementors were also creatures. He certainly didn't know at that time that Dementors had first been Necromancers. But I'm sure he must know by now." His smirk widened, and he said conspiratorially, "But that's not the most important part. Albus wrote, and admitted, that there's a fundamental biological difference between dark and light wizards. Of course, we, dark wizards, have always believed so, since the magic in our veins is different from that of light wizards. Therefore, dark and light wizards are a different race all together. A different race which can however breed together without any physical impediments, just like they can breed with muggles, yielding half-bloods and such of less purity. In the same way that wizards can also breed with half-breed creatures like vampires and veelas."
Orion stared at him, and demanded shortly, "What about muggleborns? What did Albus write about them?"
"Ja, there comes the tricky part," said Grindelwald, his tone casual though his features had darkened with disapproval. "According to Albus' research and writing, mudbloods are a different species all together, neither 'homo sapiens magus' –us- or 'homo sapiens sapiens' –muggles-. Instead, they are the evolutionary in-between muggles and wizards." He widely smirked. "But, he did admit that mudbloods don't spring up because they came from a muggle bloodline which, at some point, had bred with some wizard or squib. No, Albus clearly expressed that mudbloods pop up quite inexplicably. As a sort of biological mutation along muggle bloodlines, and not due to the crossing of someone magical with a muggle – that would produce halfbloods and such, but not a mudblood. Furthermore, his research concludes that crossings between someone of our species -be it a dark or light wizard- with a mudblood -who is from a different species all together- would weaken the magical power of the offspring. And that the magic in the subsequent offspring would be eventually diminished to a point in which the resulting child would not have any light or dark magic in him, but, rather, he would have a mudblood's type of magic."
Orion snapped the booklet shut, his jaw clenched, and he gritted out, "So Dumbledore basically wrote the same that Slytherin had discovered! And what dark wizards believe in, too – though some believe it in a rather vague manner, without knowing about the solid evidence that back their beliefs. And, for Merlin's staff, Voldemort himself told me that he thought that wizards are an evolved species, and that muggles would be exterminated and extinguished because they were the less evolved human beings."
"Well, your Dark Lord was right, also according to our young Albus," said Grindelwald, shooting him a wide, crooked smirk. "Yet, Albus didn't get his facts from any book of Slytherin's, of course. After all, Albus is no Parselmouth and he couldn't have read Slytherin's journals, even if he had somehow found them – which he didn't. It's just that Albus' research comes to the same conclusions that Salazar Slytherin's did."
"And yet," said Orion crisply, "Dumbledore upholds the Light's misguided ideas regarding this." He angrily waved the booklet in his hand. "How is it that light wizards don't know about this? How is it that they still believe that nothing bad comes from mixing their lines with muggles and muggleborns?"
"Because dear Albus pulled his treatise out of circulation just months after it was published," said Grindelwald loftily. "And from there forth, he supported the Light's ideals with such determined fierceness, that most people eventually forgot about what Albus had written and retracted from. Indeed, your chief house-elf was hard tasked when I asked her to find a copy of Albus' treatise. She eventually found this one in a dusty, obscure, and tiny bookshop in wizarding Bucharest."
Orion narrowed his eyes at him. "You sent Daisy?"
"Oh, relax, mein junge," scoffed Grindelwald, waving his hand dissmissively. "I explicitly told her to never reveal that she was a Potter Manor house-elf. She didn't tell anyone who her Master is, and she obviously didn't say that I had sent her. So the secret that Potter Manor is currently in your hold, and that you have Potter blood, is still well kept."
"Good," said Orion with a relieved sigh. He glanced down at the treatise with a dark scowl on his face, and muttered, "I still don't understand how Dumbledore could write this, obviously believing in the results of his research, just to completely turn against it afterwards." He glanced up at Grindelwald, frowning. "Did Dumbledore truly change his mind? Did he discover something in his research that made him believe that what he wrote in this booklet was incorrect?"
Grindelwald casually stretched against his couch, and said placidly, "Did Albus change his mind? Ja, he did. Did Albus discover in subsequent researches that he had been wrong? Nein, he didn't." He intently pierced Orion with his eyes, and gestured at the booklet. "The conclusions of that treatise are irrefutably correct. Albus knows this. He knows this very well. He didn't decide to change his opinions due to any subsequent discovery. He changed his mind for personal reasons. Because he didn't want this information to be known by the general public. Because he knew the havoc it would cause. He knew that mudbloods would be marginalized, and that muggles would be hold in contempt, as inferior beings should be."
"Dumbledore knows that this is true," said Orion, jabbing a finger into the booklet, "and he has purposely hidden it from the wizarding world all this time? Since 1900?"
"Since 1899."
Orion stared at him with wide eyes, and snapped, "Why?! Just so that he can protect faceless muggles and muggleborns? Protect them from what – exactly?!" He carded his fingers through his hair, and bit out, "Fine, I grant you that pureblooded wizards would have scorned muggleborns even further, but some measure could have been taken to abate the ill-will towards them. After all, muggleborns can't be blamed for having been born muggleborns – it's not their fault! And Dumbledore has been in an influential position for decades. He could have been the Minister of Magic, if he had wanted so. Therefore, he could have let this treatise be known, and still find some appropriate measure to protect muggleborns, and to make wizards see that the problem isn't in muggleborns themselves but in wizards' decisions to have children with them. If wizards don't want the magic of their bloodlines to dwindle, they must simply not marry a muggleborn or muggle. It's as simple as that. Muggleborns can still marry between them and with muggles. So any reason Dumbledore could have had to conceal the truth from the wizarding world is completely invalid. Wizards deserve to know the consequences of breeding with muggleborns and muggles, and it should be their decision to do so under their own risk. And I don't see how Dumbledore could have changed his mind so quickly. Was he always a muggle-lover, even when he had his own evidence that wizards are superior to muggles?"
"Albus, a muggle-lover?" scoffed Grindelwald. He bore his hazel eyes into Orion's, and said conversationally, "Albus was never a muggle-lover. He actually hated them with a passion."
Orion gaped at him, before he clamped his mouth shut and fixedly stared at him. "Hated them - what do you mean?"
"Very well, mein junge," said Grindelwald quietly, leveling him with a serious gleam in his eyes. "This is what I wanted to reveal to you. Some parts of Albus' past, and the circumstances which shaped him when he was young, and some others which changed him afterwards. And listen to me carefully, for this important. You will be able to use this information against him." He shot him a wide smirk, and said loftily, "But first, I want a drink."
Orion's highly attentive expression was wiped out from his face, and he snapped, miffed, "You must be kidding, Gellert! Don't keep me on tenterhooks."
"I want a drink – my favorite one," demanded Grindelwald sharply.
"Fine," muttered Orion, shooting him an irritated glare before he snapped his fingers. "Daisy!"
The moment the tiny and commanding house-elf popped before him, he said quickly, "A tumbler of Ogden's Firewhiskey for me and a Kristakoff's Aged Scotch for this annoying old man."
Without a word, the efficient chief house-elf disappeared with a 'pop', and in a few seconds a silver tray appeared on top of the low table between their couches. Grindelwald shot him a wide smirk as he swiftly grasped his tumbler of scotch, while Orion darkly grumbled under his breath, before he took a small sip of his firewhiskey.
"Well?" said Orion impatiently.
Grindelwald contently sighed as his lips left his tumbler of scotch, and he nursed it in his hands, while he said coolly, "I met Albus when I was sixteen years old –your age- and when he was about to turn eighteen." He toothily grinned. "Ja, I'm younger than him. It shows, doesn't it? Why, I know that I look like a forty-year-old wizard in his prime-"
"Get to the point," gritted out Orion, his eyebrow twitching with vexation.
"You're very short-tempered lately," pointed out Grindelwald with a scoff, and he took another sip from his scotch, before he speared Orion with a piercing gaze. "Very well. It was 1899, precisely during the time that Albus was finishing writing his treatise, and during my summer holidays. There are rumors which say that I was then expelled from Durmstrang. That's obviously not the truth. I had, however, decided to ignore what the Spirits wanted from me, and I already had many 'friends' at Durmstrang whom I knew that would follow me whenever I asked it of them. Therefore, I had taken my PRIMEs a full year beforehand, during my sixth year at Durmstrang." He quirked an eyebrow. "Actually, mein junge, that's exactly what you should do as well, since you want to become the Vindico. You don't have time to spare, and you shouldn't waste next year by going to class. Ask Vagnarov to sit for the PRIMEs as soon as possible, so that you can already be a graduated Durmstrang student."
"You want me to take my PRIMEs now?" said Orion disbelievingly. "On top of everything else I have to do?"
"Don't tell me you haven't started revising a year in advance?" interjected Grindelwald with a stern glint in his eyes. "PRIMEs are not easy, mein junge."
"Of course I've been revising," bit out Orion with irritation. "Anyone smart studies for them a year in advance. And even Hermione is revising for her NEWTs, though I dare say that she's the only one in Gryffindor who's studying. The others don't bother because they merely think about how they have a whole year left. Anyway, if I'm too busy next year with my goals, then I'll simply skip seventh year-"
"Skip?" interrupted Grindelwald sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "You must graduate from Durmstrang – and with honors and awards. If you become the Vindico do you want anyone to snide you because you didn't complete your education? When books are written about you, do you want them to say that you were a half-wit who didn't even graduate? Certainly not! Therefore, I advise that you take your PRIMEs as soon as possible. Thus, you'll have next year free to participate in the war, and in whatever other tasks you'll have."
"Fine," said Orion tiredly. "I'll think about it later, Gellert. Now continue with your story, please."
"Ja, as I was saying, at your age and when I finished sixth year, I had taken the PRIMEs and therefore graduated from Durmstrang. I was also set on the path of finding the Hallows, and I had planned to travel extensively for this quest - while I kept studying the Dark Arts and while I contacted useful wizards who would later become my followers or commanders. I had left a group of 'friends' at Durmstrang, who had already pledged their loyalty to me. And I had told the Spirits, in no uncertain terms, that I was going to do things my way. Therefore, I came to England to visit my great-aunt, because I had discovered that Ignotus Peverell's descendants had lived in the same town she did. Bathilda Bagshot is her name, and she's still alive – I believe. Thus, I stayed with her in her house in Godric's Hollow, the same wizarding town in which Albus and his family lived-"
"Wait," interrupted Orion, piercing him with his eyes. "Godric's Hollow? That's where James Potter and my mum lived in a cottage…" He frowned deeply. "Where Dumbledore lived, you say… Yes, I remember… I saw a grave with two names… I can't recall what the first names were, but the last names were 'Dumbledore'… I saw that grave when my father took me to visit Godric's Hollow's cemetery, to see my mother's and James Potter's graves." He blinked up at him. "And that was also the first time I ever saw the Deathly Hallow's symbol outside of Durmstrang. It was inscribed in Ignotus Peverell's tombstone… The Peverell brothers had designed that symbol after creating the Hallows, and they had adopted it as their family crest, just before Cadmus left for Glenn Mulag village… So, I see… You went to Godric's Hollow to see Ignotus' tomb, right? To find some clue which could lead you to the location of the Invisible Cloak."
"Precisely," said Grindelwald, widely smirking at him. "And I did find out that the Potters were Ignotus' descendants, and I correctly deduced that the Invisible Cloak was in the hands of your Potter great-grandfather. Regrettably, he didn't live in Godric's Hollow anymore." He gestured at the room. "But in this Manor, in Wiltshire. Later, after a series of events, I left Godric's Hollow in order to try to get inside this Manor and steal the Cloak. Obviously, I didn't succeed. But that's beside the point. I want to tell you how I met Albus." He took a long sip from his tumbler, and continued, "As I said, Albus had graduated from Hogwarts in blazing glory – Head Boy, Prefect, and winner several awards. I had never met him before and his family had moved into Godric's Hollow some years back. They had previously lived in Mould-on-the-Wold, a small wizarding village next to a muggle town – remember this, for I will come back to it." He pierced Orion with his hawk-like gaze. "Once I arrived at my great-aunt's house, I contacted the cousin of one of my Hydra classmates. This cousin was Elphias Doge, a dim-witted boy and Albus' devoted best friend. It was through Elphias that I met Albus. Both of them had intended to take a Grand Tour, starting with Greece. But Albus' mother died just days before, and Albus came to Godric's Hollow, accompanied by Elphias. The names you remember seeing in the Dumbledore tombstone must have been of Kendra –Albus' mother- and Ariana – his little sister."
"Dumbledore had a sister?" said Orion stunned. "I never heard of that." He deeply frowned. "I don't recall the dates inscribed on the tombstone, but I remember thinking that one of them had died surprisingly young… his sister? She died being a child?"
"Not quite," replied Grindelwald with a grave expression on his face. "Ariana died that summer, when she was fifteen years old. But I'll get to that later. You see, when I met Albus, his mother had just died and he had given up his plan of taking his Grand Tour with Elphias. I had contacted Elphias and the boy had convinced Albus to get out of his house, and the three of us met in small tea shop in Godric's Hollow. That was the first time I saw Albus. You must imagine how Albus was grieving after his mother's death. And Elphias left days after, called back by his own family. Therefore, I was left alone with Albus. By then, he had single-mindedly focused on finishing his treatise - a way to keep busy and cope with his grief, I believe. And he sent the treatise for publishing just a few days after I met him. Actually, I read it before he submitted it, and I offered him one or two inputs."
His lips quirked upwards and he gazed somewhere behind Orion's shoulder. "I was fascinated by what he wrote. I saw my very same ideas eloquently and methodically expressed in his writing. And Albus was like no one I had ever met before. You should have seen him back then! With a brilliant mind, astounding magical skills, magnificent high ambitions for himself, a deep-rooted hatred for muggles, and a fierce determination to influence and change the wizarding world. Yet, he was also caring. He deeply cared for his siblings – he cared for Ariana, the most. He was unlike any of my Hydra classmates or 'friends'. He was very handsome as well, in a humble and unsuspecting way. There was no vanity in him, but there was sturdy self-confidence and maturity. I was instantly attracted to him, in every way. And we shared the same beliefs regarding the wizarding and muggle world. And he was also vulnerable, and lost. It was that soft vulnerability in him that also captured me, I believe. Strangely enough, when I perceived it, I had no wish to exploit it. And that was very unlike myself." He gazed at Orion, and added quietly, "His mother had recently died, and his father had been imprisoned in Azkaban for life, some years previously. Those were very hard blows for Albus, and at that time, he had to set to a side his own plans and ambitions to take care of Ariana, who was fifteen, and of Aberforth, his brother, who was sixteen. And Albus, almost an eighteen-year-old boy, was legally of age to take care of them. That was why he went back to Godric's Hollow, after his mother's death-"
"Wait, wait, wait," interjected Orion hastily, frowning at him. "I never heard about Dumbledore's brother, either. Is he currently alive? What does he-"
"Ja, he's alive," said Grindelwald sharply, looking darkly annoyed. "But don't interrupt me again. This is important. So keep quiet and listen."
Orion quickly nodded his head, and the wizard pierced him with his eyes, as he continued, "Aberforth was the complete opposite of Albus. He was a very wild, disrespectful, impolite, and brash-mannered teenager. And he certainly didn't have any of Albus' brilliancy. Moreover, Albus and he often argued, frequently about Ariana. And this if the crux of the matter, because Ariana wasn't well. Albus and Aberforth told everyone that Ariana had an 'ill health', that she was frail and delicate. Moreover, the official version was that their mother had died due to a backfiring charm. But Albus told me the truth, and also why some people in Godric's Hollow believed that Kendra, Albus' mother, had been mistreating Ariana by imprisoning her inside the house. But the reality of the situation was that Ariana couldn't be left alone or unsupervised, and that Kendra always needed to have her under her watch."
Grindelwald took a short sip from his scotch, before he intently gazed at Orion, and said quietly, "Ariana, being fifteen years old, was amazingly powerful, even more than Albus. I detected it the first time I stepped into their home and saw her. She was a very beautiful girl of bright blue eyes and golden ringlets, with a charming face, soft-spoken and shy. Too shy. She flinched and shied away whenever either of her brothers tried to touch her. The problem was that she was deeply psychologically traumatized, since the age of thirteen. That made her magic highly unstable. She had no control over it, and even the smallest things could alarm her and leave her in a frenzied state. It was Ariana who had accidentally killed their mother, and that damaged further her flimsy mental state. Now, I ask you to remember what I said about the village in which the Dumbledore family had lived before moving to Godric's Hollow. It was a small wizarding village, and the Dumbledores had their ancestral home there. The Dumbledore line was one of the purest light bloodlines. Like a Black and Malfoy version of a light line. Moreover, no Dumbledore had ever married a muggle or mudblood. Nevertheless, Albus' father had married Kendra, who had been a mudblood. Yet, according to my great-aunt and Albus himself, Kendra had been a very intelligent and powerful witch, and the marriage hadn't been seen in bad light, even though the Dumbledores had always been purists. Albus' father had been an upstanding and highly powerful light wizard, very influential as well. But everything had crumbled when the Dumbledore family lived in Mould-on-the-Wold. It was right next to a muggle town, and Ariana was often left alone to play in the streets with other magical children of her age, while Albus and Aberforth attended Hogwarts. There was nothing wrong with that, and as she grew up and reached her thirteenth birthday, Ariana already had a group of friends in the village. Albus didn't tell me the details of what had happened, but I was able to elucidate it from his arguments with Aberforth. One day, when Albus and Aberforth were visiting their respective friends during the holidays, when their father was away at his job, and when Kendra was busy in the house, Ariana had wondered along the streets, away from her group of magical children. At some point, Kendra noticed her absence and went to look for her. But she found Ariana too late, at the outskirts of the muggle town. The thirteen-year-old girl had been gang raped by a group of low-life muggles – and it had been brutal."
Orion's face drained from all color, and he cleared his throat with difficulty, before he said quietly, "That was why Ariana became unstable and couldn't control her magic, right?"
"Ja, but there's more," said Grindelwald curtly. "As you can imagine, this was a tragic blow for the Dumbledores. And Albus' father -who had never particularly liked muggles, even though he had married a mudblood out of love- went on a frenzied rampage for revenge. He found the muggles who had raped Ariana, and he tortured them, savagely, and then killed them. The wizard had certainly not been in his right state of mind, since he didn't even try to flee the scene or conceal the evidence by disposing of the bodies. And he was captured by Aurors an hour later, and sentenced to Azkaban for life. The wizard died there much later, after being exposed to Dementors for three decades. Regardless, after Albus' father was thrown into Azkaban, the family later moved to Godric's Hollow. Then, an already highly perturbed fifteen-year-old Ariana accidentally killed their mother in an uncontrolled outburst of her magic. So Albus was left with the responsibility to take care of Ariana and Aberforth. And he did so willingly, without any bitterness, despite that he had shove to a side all his plans. So it was in those circumstances that I met and befriended Albus. And, ja, our relationship became intimate and very close just after knowing him for a week. And I practically lived in his house for a whole month, with only Albus and his two younger siblings, who were what was left of Albus' family. As you can imagine, Albus' hatred for muggles stemmed from what had happened to his little sister and to his father, having additionally lost his mother due to Ariana's magical instability caused by her trauma."
He paused to take another long sip from his tumbler, and piercingly gazed at Orion, as he continued, "There was always tension in the house, and Aberforth openly attacked Albus' intimate relationship with me. I didn't hide my opinions or the fact that I was a dark wizard, and Aberforth firmly opposed me at every turn. Yet, Albus always sided with me, and I can say that he did it out of love. Moreover, I admit, with no shame at all, that I loved him back just as deeply. You have often told me that you felt an instant connection towards the Tom of the locket, and then towards Voldemort. A connection you think went beyond the fact that you are Voldemort's horcrux. With him, you felt and feel an attraction of minds and magic. And that's exactly what happened with Albus and I. We were both highly skilled, excellent students, vastly educated, and above all, astoundingly powerful - and even if his magic was light and mine was dark, we were mutually enticed, regardless. Neither of us had had a happy childhood, and our ideals ran along the same lines. So in short, I openly admit that Albus was the only one I have ever cared for and loved. And along with my ambitions for myself, I wanted him to fulfill his, and to be by my side. That's why I showed him what I could do with my dark magic, and that's why I told him about the Hallows and my quest in search of them. Nevertheless, I never told him anything about the Vindico or the Spirits, and I never told him that I wanted to become a Dark Lord. The latter, I believe he suspected, but he didn't know how ruthless I could be in order to attain my goals. Regardless, I worked to convince him to come with me, I tried to persuade him to leave Ariana in a home in which she could be looked after by mediwitches. I even offered the money for it. And Aberforth heard all of this."
Grindelwald paused and took a brief sip from his scotch, before setting it on the low table between them. "It was then when the three of us started a heated argument, with Ariana listening, though we hadn't noticed her. Aberforth reproached Albus about wanting to leave them, he accused Albus of selfishness, of befriending and having an intimate relationship with me, a dark wizard, and of not caring about Ariana. Inevitably, Ariana was affected by our angry yells and she snapped. She lost control of her magic once more, like had happened with her mother. The three of us instantly tried to control Ariana's magic for her, and spells had to be casted in order to accomplish it. But the truth was that none of us knew how to stop someone so magically unbalanced and incontrollably powerful like her. We didn't suspect, either, how her unstable magic would react with the spells we casted on her – it only made matters worse. And in the end, in the wild confusion of casted beams of spells, shaking walls, crushed furniture, and flying objects, Albus and I powerfully stunned Ariana at the same time. Up until this day, I can't explain with certainty why Ariana died because of that. I believe that she suffered from a magical overload the moment her uncontrolled magic clashed with the strong 'stupyfies' we casted on her. Even the mediwizards who were instantly floocalled, were unable to explain exactly how and why that had caused her death – she was a unique case of astounding, unbalanced power. In the end, her death was official regarded as an accident. And after her burial, Aberforth never forgave Albus and the boy left to live with some distant aunt. And Albus… he never forgave himself either."
"But-"
"Let me finish," said Grindelwald sharply, leveling Orion with his hawk-like gaze. "I also know that Albus blamed me as well, since I had started the argument when Aberforth had begun criticizing Albus' relationship with me. Furthermore, the house had been almost completely destroyed by Ariana's outburst of uncontrolled magic, and I had to leave in order to keep searching for the Hallows. I asked Albus to come with me, but he refused. Ariana's death had deeply changed him. In his grief, sorrow, and deep feelings of guilt, he no longer ambitioned greatness. He no longer cared about drastically changing the wizarding world. He considered power as something dangerous, and he accused me of wanting absolute and unrestricted power – which was true. My opinions and aims hadn't changed. But Albus no longer desired to help me with my goals, and he decided that he didn't want a position of power either. I believe he feared what it could do to him. I believe this is why he merely became a Transfiguration professor, despite his abilities to become much more. I believe this is why he repeatedly rejected becoming the Minister of Magic, when the post was later offered to him, and why he was satisfied when he became Hogwarts' Headmaster. I also believe this is why Dumbledore wants to help you so much. He fears what you can become, since he must certainly feel the power in you. And he most likely sees me in you as well. His intention to help you is honest and sincere, yet he clearly doesn't understand us anymore. Regardless, that summer, after Ariana's burial, we parted in anger, both of us reproaching each other. And I never saw him again until decades later, on the day that we confronted each other in the battlefield. That day, with our respective armies and supporters behind our backs, we dueled for eight hours straight. Given our audience, we said nothing personal to each other. Yet, he never truly tried to kill me, and I never used my unique dark magic against him. Finally, I allowed him to defeat me, because by then I had only obtained the Elder Wand, the German muggle armies under my indirect control had been already defeated by the Russian muggle soldiers, the muggle head-figure I had manipulated had already killed himself in his bunker, and I knew that I couldn't become the Vindico. I was carted off to Nurmengard, Albus silently took the Elder Wand from me and casted the spells on my cell, blocking me from using -in any relevant way- my dark magic. He never said a word to me, either."
Grindelwald slowly grasped his tumbler and took a brief sip, before he relaxed against his couch, gazing at Orion expectantly.
"What can I say?" murmured Orion quietly, his gaze locking with the wizard's. "I was completely clueless about what had really happened between Dumbledore and you. It was… much graver than I had thought. And it's… well, sad, really. I have no other word for it. And I find that I sympathize with both Dumbledore and you. I certainly understand him better, since I often wondered why he never became England's Minister of Magic. And what happened with Ariana…" He heavily exhaled and carded his fingers through his hair. "It's a pity. And Albus… And Dumbledore certainly had a tragic life." He slightly frowned. "Actually, compared to him, I cannot complain about the things that have happened to me."
"What is this?" said Grindelwald, arching a mocking eyebrow. "Do you feel for Albus, now?" He pierced him with a hard look in his eyes. "Will you doubt to use this information against him?"
"You expect me to use the memory of Ariana against him?" interjected Orion, frowning at him. "Would you, Gellert?"
Grindelwald scoffed, and said sharply, "Ja, of course I would, if it meant that I obtained the Elder Wand more easily by making him grieve."
"You lie," said Orion impassively, eyeing him closely. "You wouldn't hurt him that way at all. You'd rather curse him into physical agony, than torture him psychologically. I know this, because of the expressions on your face when you related all this to me. What happened affected you deeply as well, even though you didn't allow yourself to change your goals. But I believe, that for a second, you actually considered the possibility of staying behind with Dumbledore, and of giving up your quest for the Hallows."
"I would have never sacrificed my ambitions for him," said Grindelwald with a harsh expression on his face. "I never did."
Orion burrowed back into his couch, and said nonchalantly, "Yet, you didn't kill him in the battlefield, and he was the Leader of the Light – your enemy. Yet, whenever I mention killing Dumbledore, your shoulders slightly tense. It's almost imperceptible, but I've come to know you very well. I can deduce what's on your mind by merely observing you."
"Are you telling me that you won't kill Albus?" sneered Grindelwald, with narrowed eyes which held a gleam of snide contempt. "What I related wasn't intended to come out as a sob story. If I had known that you would take it this way, I wouldn't have told you anything."
"I'm not crying," said Orion calmly. "My eyes didn't even moisten. That story was your common past with Dumbledore, not mine. I said that I sympathized but I didn't say that it deeply affected me, or that it made me change my mind. It hasn't. I will still kill Dumbledore, but not for personal reasons anymore. Despite how his actions have negatively affected my life and my father's, I no longer hold any deep-rooted recriminations or hatred towards him. I won't kill him out of any sense of revenge, but because it's necessary, since he's the Light's leader and beacon of hope." He frowned pensively. "As for using the memory of Ariana against him… Well, it will depend on the circumstances."
He glanced down at the booklet in his lap, and shot the old wizard a wide smirk. "But I will certainly publish Dumbledore's treatise, when the time is right. And I will certainly make the wizarding world know what you've related to me. I already have someone in mind who'll be ecstatic to assist me." His smirk widened. "Remember, that I mentioned Rita Skeeter to you, a while ago? Well, we have an understanding between us and I haven't used her in ages. Her… writing skills are just the thing I'll need. You see, what better way to destroy the Light's rose-tinted faith in their leader than to have Rita Skeeter write a very long article about you, Albus, Aberforth and Ariana? Especially about your intimate relationship with him. Once I kill Dumbledore, I will have a meeting with Skeeter, and she'll joyfully write a nice article for me in the Daily Prophet, and I'll bring down Dumbledore's name. That's a fair and sly way of using Ariana against him, isn't it? Even if it's postmortem."
"Do as you like," said Grindelwald curtly, waving a hand dismissively.
Orion narrowed his eyes at the wizard. "Are you somehow angry at me, Gellert? If you were thinking of using me against Dumbledore, or to make me some kind of vessel to indirectly hurt him by making him remember about the past, then think again. If you want to do that, then-"
"Then what?" snapped Grindelwald fiercely. "Talk to him myself, was that going to be your suggestion, mein junge? But it's not as if I can, is it? I officially died when Voldemort destroyed Nurmengard."
"You want to talk with Dumbledore?" said Orion, arching an eyebrow, surprised.
"Nein," replied Grindelwald crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. "I simply don't want you erroneously conjecturing about what I want to do. Kill Albus, I don't care. But don't believe for a second that I want to somehow use you to get to him."
"Alright, point taken," said Orion, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"There are a couple of more things I think you should know about," said Grindelwald curtly. "You asked me about Aberforth. I told you that he was alive. Moreover, you have surely seen him, repeatedly. He's the owner and bartender of the Hog' s Head, at Hogsmeade." He scoffed, and added snidely, "I believe he even has his pet goat with him."
Orion blinked at him. "That… weird wizard is Aberforth? Merlin's staff, I have seen him. But he looks nothing like Dumbledore."
"Ja, that's Aberforth for you," said Grindelwald, waving a hand dismissively. "I don't think you have anything to worry about with him. He's a mediocre wizard, at best. And Albus and he never mended their relationship."
"Perhaps they haven't," said Orion musingly, "but Dumbledore mentioned that he sometimes liked to have drinks at the Hogshead. Therefore, there's still some contact between them, however tense it might be." Suddenly, he frowned and gazed up at the wizard. "It's curious, you know, how Dumbledore is also a half-blood. I always thought he was a light pureblood. He's another strange case. And you said that Ariana was even more powerful that him… Voldemort is a half-blood too, and I'm as well… Though, given my Potter blood, I'm closer to being a pureblood than a half-blood. But my point is that the three of us have some muggle blood. My mother and Dumbledore's was a muggleborn, and Voldemort's father was a muggle. And we're very powerful, despite of it…"
Grindelwald frowned at him, and demanded shortly, "What's your point?"
"That maybe there's something unexplained and unresearched going on there," said Orion pensively. "We know that muggleborn and muggle blood eventually weakens the magic in wizarding bloodlines. But perhaps, a one-time infusion of their blood does the opposite." He leaned forward, and added eagerly, "Think about it, Gellert. In my case, Dumbledore's, and Voldemort's, we come from bloodlines which were always impeccably pure, up until they crossed with a muggleborn or muggle, and we were the resulting offspring. If our bloodlines continued to cross with more muggle blood, then I'm sure the magic of our lines would dwindle. But in us, in the offspring from the first crossing with a muggle or muggleborn, the muggle blood of one of our parents didn't affect negatively the potency of our magic. It seems that it was the opposite case, we were more powerful than any other wizards of our pure bloodlines."
"This is mere speculation," interjected Grindewald sternly. "For instance, I'm a pureblood, and I'm more powerful than Voldemort or Albus. Furthermore, you have no way of knowing if there wasn't someone more powerful than yourself in your bloodline. And the Spirits told you that they had influenced Merope Gaunt to be obsessively in love with the Riddle muggle, so that she would have a child in whom Tom Sr.'s blood negated the negative traits in her bloodline. Thus, mellowing the hereditary madness in the Gaunt line, since the Gaunts had bred with wizards and witches who were outwardly violent - believing that it was a sign of dark blood, since they had no other means of knowing who carried pure dark blood. Moreover, the Spirits ordered Slughorn to compel your mother to love James Potter, because they wanted to weaken the light magic in the Potter line, which was originally dark. And in a way, they succeed in that, because due to the consangri ritual, you have Potter blood, as well as Black and muggleborn blood, all mixing together and making you more powerful in dark magic, whilst diminishing in you the light magic of the Potter blood. So even though Voldemort and you have some muggle blood in your veins, the potency of your magical power is explained."
Orion frowned thoughtfully, and then nodded, before he inquired, "What about Dumbledore?"
"There isn't much that I know about his bloodline, other that it was pure before Albus' father bred with Kendra," replied Grindelwald dismissively, "but I'm sure that there's a similar explanation for his case."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right."
Suddenly, Grindelwald leaned forward, and said pensively, "You've reminded me of another matter I wanted to tell you about." He slightly frowned. "I don't know how relevant it is, but Albus must have put some effort to keep it a secret during all these decades. Thus, it must be important."
Orion stared at him, puzzled and curious. "What is it?"
"As I told you, Ariana was raped by several muggles when she was thirteen," said Grindewald gravely, piercing him with his eyes. "And she died when she was fifteen, but that's not all. After being raped, she became pregnant, and she had a baby boy. That was also why her mother, Kendra, always kept Ariana indoors, watching and caring for Ariana and her baby. After Kendra was accidentally killed by Ariana, and since Albus and Aberforth were considered too young to care for a baby, a distant aunt of theirs took the baby with her. It was the same aunt to which Aberforth went to live with, after Ariana's burial. However, no one knew about Ariana's son. Albus and Aberforth certainly managed to keep it a secret from everyone in Godric's Hollow. And I only discovered it by mere chance. I found a baby's toy under Albus' bed. And when I asked about it, he confided in me, and I agreed to keep it a secret, understanding that it was a painful subject for him."
"A baby?" gasped out Orion with round eyes. "A half-blooded baby, then… Ariana's son from one of her muggle rapists… You think this is important? That the baby grew up to become powerful?"
"I don't know, but that baby is the only descendant of the Dumbledore line, since Albus and Aberforth never had children," replied Grindelwald, frowning. "Ariana's son must currently be a hundred-year-old wizard or squib, probably with children and grandchildren of his own. Nevertheless, no one has ever heard about Albus having a nephew. He must have kept it a secret for a number of reasons, but still, it might be significant that he has hidden the existence of his nephew. Simply keep it in mind."
"Do you know his name?" asked Orion. "Or the name of the relative who raised him?"
Grindelwald shook his head. "Nein, neither. And it's logical to assume that they didn't give the Dumbledore surname to Ariana's son. But if there's someone from whom you can get his name, it's Aberforth. Obviously, I don't think he'll be too forthcoming with that information. But if you ever have a reason to want to know about Albus' nephew, then make Aberforth tell you. Moreover, if you need to know the name of Albus' aunt, of the witch who raised Ariana's son, then you could find my great-aunt, Bathilda Bagshot. I believe she knew Albus' distant aunt, and Bathilda must still live in Godric's Hollow."
"Alright, thanks," muttered Orion, filing away the information. He glanced at the wizard, and said with a quirk of his lips, "Any other relevant information? I'm almost afraid to ask."
Grindelwald scoffed, and placidly leaned back on his couch. "Nein, that was all. I would like, however, to talk to you about Dumbledore's skills, and how he can use them in a duel." He shot him a crooked smirk. "This will be the last piece of wisdom I'll impart on you."
"Let me get another drink for us, first. I can see by your expression that this will take long," said Orion wryly, before he swiftly snapped his fingers. "Daisy!"
