Albus Dumbledore and the Everlasting Flame

Disclaimer: this novel was a work of fan fiction based upon the worlds created by JK Rowling. I own none of the canonical characters or places, but have applied my own imagination to Ms Rowling's world.

"A life cut short is a tragedy; but the greater tragedy still is for those left behind to not live."

Chapter 23 – Archaeon's Promise

Archaeon and Albus waited several moments at the front door of the Moody mansion after Archaeon had pounded on the door. When at last it was opened, it was by the Moody's house elf. The tiny little thing gave a squeak of fright and hurried off to find its masters. When Mrs. Moody appeared at the end of the hallway, she let out a cry of intense dismay. For why else would Archaeon Dumbledore be standing at her doorstep with the small figure of a body wrapped in a cloak in his arms, than to be bringing doom upon her household?

'Tell me it isn't true!' Mrs. Moody shrieked; hurrying forward and peeling open the cloak to reveal Victoria's pale, freckled face. She wailed, 'no, my child, my dear, sweet Victoria, no! It cannot be thus!'

Albus wanted to sink into the floor like a ghost. His cheeks burned with the intense shame of someone who blamed himself for inflicting this loss upon the Moodys. Mrs. Moody's shrieks brought Hortensius from his study. Victoria had inherited her sandy coloured hair from her father, who had great curly locks of it hanging on his shoulders. When he saw his daughter's body, he took it from Archaeon and held it tenderly in his own arms.

'My daughter!' cried Mr. Moody. 'Flesh of my flesh, oh! I am aggrieved beyond repair!'

Several more painful moments followed before the Moodys composed themselves enough to invite Archaeon and Albus into their living room. There, they lay Victoria down upon one of the couches with tenderness. Then they wanted an explanation from Archaeon.

'I can see it was the Avada Kedavra!' cried Mr. Moody, 'but who could do this to my child? Who deserves to feel the fury of my vengeful wrath?'

Albus cowered in a small chair, half expecting Archaeon to point at him and for Mr. Moody to jinx him into a thousand pieces. But Archaeon proceeded to describe the ending of the Triwizard Tournament, revealing that it had been the German Champion who had killed Victoria, only to be killed himself by an Egyptian God. The truth was no easier to bear for the Moodys. Mr. Moody retreated into an immediate and congestive silence, while Mrs. Moody sobbed away against his chest. After several more moments of discomfort, Archaeon asked if they could kindly be excused on account of the personal injuries he had sustained. When neither of the Moodys gave an audible response, he rose to his feet and departed, Albus almost standing on his heels to escape the awful, death-filled place.

'I think, my boy,' Archaeon said, as they walked down the stony path leading to the Moody's front gate, 'that you are in need of solitude and rest. I will permit you a night at home before you must face your inevitable return to Hogwarts.'

Albus nodded but said nothing. They disapparated; back to the Dumbledore home; where Archaeon forbade Lubo from spending too much time fawning over him. Once more, Archaeon cast a sleeping spell upon him, and Albus fell into a long and dreamless sleep.

Returning to Hogwarts was one of the most difficult things Albus had ever had to do in his life. The school was fresh with gossip over the dramatic ending to the Third Task, and half wanted to celebrate the triumph of their Champion Thomas Jones, and half wanted to mourn the loss of one of their own. When other students walked by Albus in corridors he got the sense that a part of them wished to grin, slap him on the back and congratulate him for helping Thomas secure victory; and the other part of them wanted to offer their condolences. Instead, most students did nothing, treading past Albus as though he were a particularly volatile ghost who might bite them if they talked to him.

Then there was Noxious Black. Phineas' repulsive son confronted Albus in the middle of the corridor between lessons on his first day back, his wand out and his face purple with fury.

'You killed my father!' he snarled, bristling all over for a fight.

'Professor Rolleston did,' Albus mumbled. 'Get out of my way or I will kill you.'

It was an empty threat, but Noxious was a coward and he did nothing but huff and scowl as Albus pushed past him. It offered Albus some small solace to learn that Noxious had transferred to another school in Europe (most probably the Black Forest School of Magical Arts), for his third year.

The atmosphere was worse in Gryffindor Tower. The sixth years were particularly boisterous, and a couple hoisted Albus onto their shoulders when he first returned to the House. It took a sharp word from Thomas to get them to put him down and leave him be. But it was with the Pirates that Albus felt least comfortable. There was a painful chasm between them. Hardly any of the nine dared speak in each other's presence, particularly when Albus was around. More than once he chanced upon a pair of second years whispering feverishly in his absence. Their strange behaviour only served to heighten Albus' sense that he was to blame for Victoria's death. Mars had to explain that the other second years simply did not know what to so around him; that they too were grieving, and that all of them felt sorry for him.

Yet a part of Albus wished that someone would openly chastise him. The further time separated him from Victoria's death, the greater his guilt became. He could not stop looking at her usual seat in their various classes. Indeed, so distracted from his lessons was he that he only learned of their impending examinations a week before they were to happen. But first was the funeral.

Victoria Moody's funeral took place on a Saturday morning in a small gothic chapel nearby the Moody's mansion. Mr. and Mrs. Moody and Victoria's younger brother stood alone in the front pew. The nine Gryffindor second years, Thomas Jones, a few Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff second years, Professors Prewett, Rolleston and Solstice; were in presence from Hogwarts. Archaeon had cleared the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher of wrongdoing, using Veritaserum to confirm Albus's suspicion: Professor Solstice had been under the control of Imhotep when he had tried to steal the Everlasting Flame. Professor Solstice had had the decency to approach Albus the day before the funeral, offering his sincerest apologies that he had ever fallen under the spell of the Egyptian Dark Lord.

The gothic chapel was dark and devoid of any religious symbols, barring a five-pointed star over the black altar. Victoria's body lay on a plinth, covered with a partly see-through white veil. In her hands she held a white lily. Albus could not bring himself to look upon her body throughout the service, choosing instead to stare at his hands. When Fawkes appeared out of thin air in the middle of the service and started to sing a strange and heart-warming lament, hot tears started to spill down Albus' face. As much as Fawkes' song alleviated his grief, it made real for him the fact that Victoria was dead. Victoria; the first girl he had ever had a crush on and subsequently come to love. He could not stop thinking of the afternoons he had spent with her, strolling on the boundaries of the Forbidden Forest holding hands, the sunlight sifting through the trees in hazy streams and falling upon her face. She had been his best friend, and now she was gone.

Victoria Moody was buried in a cemetery outside the gothic chapel, her body laid to rest beside the tombstones of her grandfather, grandmother and great-uncle. All three of them had lived beyond one hundred and twenty. Victoria had been twelve.

Following Victoria's funeral, the other second years seemed to get over their grief, or at the very least, temporarily shelve it, in order to prepare for examinations. Much as Albus tried to concentrate, sitting beside Mars in the library during the long afternoons, he could not. He eventually abandoned making pretence of studying and took to walking the Hogwarts grounds. It was springtime, and the new grass was populating the fields. Pollen filled the air, flowers bloomed around the Herbology greenhouses, and the Forbidden Forest seemed to resound with life.

One afternoon while the rest of the school was locked in study, Albus ventured into the Forbidden Forest to visit Fawkes at the Everlasting Oak. He had not seen Fawkes since Victoria's death, other than at her funeral, and felt strangely detached from his phoenix. He had yet to come to terms with the fact that Fawkes had been absent during that climactic afternoon in the Temple of Ast, when Victoria had died. A small part of him resented Fawkes for not saving her. After all, hadn't Fawkes taken the Avada Kedavra for him at the end of his first year?

Albus had to stop in his tracks when he came to the clearing where the Everlasting Oak grew. The vast tree, which normally had handsome brown bark and a few slender leaved branches at the top, was singed and blackened. It was as if lightning had struck it, rendering every leaf burned and the bark turned to ash. Albus wondered what in Merlin's name could have happened.

The answer was nailed to the tree in a piece of tattered scroll. Albus removed it from its nail and unraveled it, revealing a scrawl of messy handwriting. It read:

'British filth,

You killed my brother. I will one day kill you. I will have my vengeance, even if I have to spend fifty years learning the dark arts. I had no other family, and you took it from me. I have burned this tree and, mark this; it is only the start of my revenge. I have the Orb now. You will never beat me.

Lord Grindelwald.'

Albus set the scroll on fire and stamped it into a fine ash on the forest floor. He could not care less if Grindelwald had the Orb of Duality. It had predicted that death would part him and Victoria, and if those were the sort of tidings that the Orb of Duality had for him, then he did not wish to see it ever again. A small chill raised the hairs on his neck when he read the line, 'you will never beat me', and he wondered for a moment whether the Orb had forecast it. Then he remembered that the Orb told one truth and one lie, and decided that the Orb must be lying. Albus Dumbledore resolved never to let the scab-faced, white-eyed "Lord Grindelwald" defeat him.

Just as Albus was about to leave the depressing, burnt frame of the Everlasting Oak, Fawkes fluttered down and landed on his shoulder. The phoenix nuzzled Albus' cheek, uttering soft notes that calmed his turbulent mind. Fawkes then caught Albus' eye and began its peculiar habit of conveying things to him through his eyes. Fawkes revealed that it had been Grindelwald's attack on the Everlasting Oak that had occupied him at the critical moment, combined with the fact that Fawkes was afraid of Horus. The Egyptian God apparently desired the phoenix for himself, and would certainly have kidnapped Fawkes to the other world if he had seen him. These explanations satisfied Albus, for who could possibly be angry with a magnificent gold and crimson bird with a song that uplifted the soul every time you heard it.

'Now that Victoria has gone,' Albus said softly, 'you are the best friend I have. Promise never to leave me.'

Fawkes chirped softly, but his eyes did not answer.

Exams lasted for a whole week, and Albus was not exempt from sitting them. It was fortunate then, that he was normally the best second year student by some distance, even including Jenning Ranger from Ravenclaw. So, despite his mind being preoccupied and his heart not in it, Albus managed to complete each of his exams without too much difficulty. There was no doubt that he failed to reach his usual standards of excellence in the practical aspects of his Transfiguration, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts exams; as reflected by the looks of disappointment on Professors Bones, Rolleston and Solstice at the end of each exam. Albus' essays in the written components of his exams were shorter than they might normally be, without the usual level of detail and precision in his descriptions of spells, histories and magical theory. His moon-glow potion was not perfect silver; rather, it was a sullen grey, at the end of his Potions practical. But sullen, and grey, was how Albus felt, and he did not care how his exam results came out. There seemed little point in living without Victoria in his life. Gryffindor was not the same without her, he felt, and the Pirates were definitely without a future in his eyes. There could be no replicating the joyous times and mischievous pranks they had perpetrated, not with one of their number missing forever.

Not everyone was prepared to see Albus go through the rest of life like a ghost of his former self, however. Hours before the Leaving Feast in the Great Hall, Aberforth pulled Albus into a cupboard on one of the corridors.

'Hey, little brother, you are casting a shadow over the place,' Aberforth said. 'I think it is high time you cheered up and saw the better side of things again.'

'You don't understand,' Albus said dully. 'Victoria died and it was my fault. I can never forgive myself.'

'That is absurd,' Aberforth said, pulling at his messy scrag of brown hair. 'The way I heard it, you were a hero throughout the year. Thomas cannot speak highly enough of you, and he credits you with winning the Triwizard Tournament more than he credits himself. Your mate Mars reckons it was his and Victoria's fault that they ever went with you … that they forced you to take them.'

'Well, I suppose they did,' Albus muttered, 'but all the same …'

'No, not "all the same",' Aberforth snapped. 'You have been walking around like death incarnate for two weeks now, and it is high time you snapped out of it. Thomas Jones will be awarded the Triwizard Cup tonight, officially, and I would not be surprised if you receive a point or two for Gryffindor from Professor Prewett. If you sit there looking sorry for yourself, people will stop thinking that you are a hero, and start thinking of you as a sob. I do not want that of my brother.'

Albus had nothing to say in reply. He was staring at the floor of the cupboard, trying to keep the tears from spilling over his eyelashes.

'Hey, look at me,' Aberforth said, lifting Albus' chin to look up at him. Aberforth made a silly face. 'The summer holidays are coming and I have a stash of Firewhiskies in my chest to get mother and father drunk at Christmas again. Our Quidditch brooms are itching to be used against the Jones brothers; remember, you might be House Seeker next year! Surely you owe me a smile!'

Albus broke into a tentative smile for the first time in two weeks. He had been sombre for so many months that his cheeks ached, his muscles unused for so long. Aberforth ruffled his hair and then tussled with him against the door of the cupboard so that they both fell out into the corridor, frightening a trio of Ravenclaw first year girls. Albus was not ready to be happy, but he was willing to try, at least for Aberforth's sake.

The Leaving Feast was held in a Great Hall draped with black and lit with formal candles floating in mid-air. The mood was slightly subdued, but an overwhelming sense of expectancy ahead of the exams could be felt. The air seemed to crackle with the electricity of anticipation. Albus supposed he had nothing to lose by letting a few smiles break through, and even managed to discuss Quidditch with an avid Mars, William, Alabastor and Edward; before Professor Prewett cleared her throat and called for quiet.

'It is with a heavy heart that I call an end to this year of triumph and of tragedy,' Professor Prewett said, adjusting her monocle on her aged face. 'The loss of Victoria Moody was a grave blow to the life of Hogwarts, Gryffindor in particular. We will not forget her memory. But the time for mourning has passed us by, and it would be unfair to rob a just and deserving person of the eternal glory that he rightfully won in this year's Triwizard Tournament. So, we shall end the year on a positive note, if that is possible in the light of what has happened. I call upon Thomas Jones to receive the Triwizard Cup and our warmest congratulations for a remarkable and much deserved victory.'

The Great Hall erupted into deafening applause as Thomas walked to the front, his face gleaming. Albus noticed little Davey Jones dancing on the Hufflepuff table, and Gareth pumping his fist in the air at the Ravenclaw table. He allowed himself a genuine smile. He really like the Jones brothers, and was pleased to see that Thomas' victory had afforded them such happiness.

'But there is more to celebrate,' Professor Prewett said, once the noise had died down and Thomas had returned to the Gryffindor table with the sparkling silverware. 'It is my pleasure to announce the results of the House Championship, but before I can do that I must reward some outstanding performances with points.'

Professor Prewett proceeded to award a number of people from all four Houses with various numbers of points. Some received them for excellence in their examinations, even though the results were not due for some time, whilst others received them for performing well in their various school clubs. Her eyes eventually came to rest on Albus, not leaving him as she spoke.

'One student in particular has had to endure more than can be imagined,' Professor Prewett said. 'While many of you know of Albus Dumbledore's valiant efforts against the risen Dark Lord Imhotep last summer, very few of you know that he endured a kidnapping at the hands of Phineas Nigellus and Admiral Scholtz midway through the year, not to mention a near fatal attack from Jannes Grundelwald. Let us not forget the tragic end to the Third Task, either. Through all this, Albus has maintained his composure and produced level-headed magic and courage to assist Thomas Jones in his pursuit of Triwizard glory. He is a second year student well beyond his years. I award Albus Dumbledore one hundred points for his valour, and in so doing, I can conclude that Gryffindor are the winners of the House Championship by a whopping four hundred and five points!'

The whole of Gryffindor stood as one and cheered, not just for Albus but for their victory. It was Thomas Jones who collected the House Trophy on Gryffindor's behalf, and before long it ended up in front of Albus. He paused for the briefest of moments to dedicate it, in his thoughts, to Victoria, before raising the trophy and releasing a genuine grin and a laugh.

At last the Hogwarts' Express was pulling away from the shadow of the great castle, leaving behind it a year of regrets and unforgettable memories for Albus. For the very first time Albus was glad to be leaving Hogwarts, if only for a time. Deep down he knew that he would be glad to be back when third year started, but for now it was time to go home. Albus' cabin received numerous visitors on the way back, all of whom wished to congratulate him and offer their condolences. Albus saw them off with smiles and thanks, feeling ever more genuine in his gratitude as the afternoon wore on. He and his fellow Gryffindor second years engaged in exploding snap and Albus managed to hand Mars a lesson in wizard chess before the train rolled to a halt at Platform 9 and ¾. Albus' second year had come to an end.

That evening, Archaeon dismissed Aberforth to bed early as punishment for kidnapping that Ravenclaw girl earlier in the year, and Lubo made an excuse to depart the living room, leaving Albus alone with his father in front of a burning fire. The warm, flickering heat gave Albus comfort as he rested his head in the crook of Archaeon's arm.

'I feel I owe you an explanation after all this,' Archaeon said. 'So many of my actions this year must have seemed inexplicable to you; and for that I am truly sorry. You see, after Phineas Nigellus had escaped any genuine punishment at the end of your first year at Hogwarts, I sought to draw him out. I wanted a battle with him in front of the Ministry. I knew that the Triwizard Tournament and the Everlasting Flame would be a temptation beyond Phineas' powers to resist. I am afraid, Albus, that an old man's desire for justice resulted in a young girl's death. I am truly repentant.'

'It was not your fault,' Albus said philosophically. 'It was nobody's fault but fate. The Seer, Professor Trelawney, foresaw death, and death came. Sadly it was for her, but I suppose I must get on with life.'

'That is very wise of you, my son,' Archaeon said proudly. 'And before I forget, I have resolved to make a promise to you. In the light of the numerous attacks on your life that you have already faced, and the fact that you will always be noticed for your raw talent and your relationship to me; I have decided to give you coaching. This summer I will entrust unto you many of the skills that I have used to defend myself and defeat my enemies. You are already on the verge of being able to learn Legilimency and Occlumency, not to mention wand-less magic. I think it is time I stopped trying to protect you, and started trusting in your ability to protect yourself.'

Albus turned to look up at his father, a look of unrestrained joy on his face.

'Oh, thank you father,' Albus gushed. Archaeon grinned and hugged his son close to his great chest. It was in the lock of his father's embrace that Albus thought of one last question. He said, 'by the way, wherever did you put the Everlasting Flame?'

'Ah, the everlasting fire that Ra gave to his queen, Isis,' Archaeon said happily. 'I returned it to the seventh chamber, and then, knowing the greed that will forever plague witches and wizards, I concealed the Temple of Ast in the desert sands of Egypt for all time; much in the same way as I concealed Heliopolis and Imhotep's Crypt at the end of last year, actually. I used everlasting spells, so no dark wizard will ever haunt those places again.'

But it was something smaller and apparently much less significant that marked the end of that dramatic year as Albus saw it. After a year of having to strain to see things clearly, and often feeling like the world was hidden behind a shroud or a haze, Albus convinced Lubo to take him to the Apothecary on Diagon Alley. There, the shopkeeper fitted Albus with a pair of glasses of his choosing.

In honour of Professor Ryan Rolleston, who had saved his father's life and taught Albus many a good lesson about life and maturity, Albus chose a pair of half-moon glasses.

It was wearing these for the very first time, and walking down Diagon Alley next to his mother and brother, chewing on Fizzing Whizzbees, that Albus watched the sun set at the end of the road. The sun spread its golden haze across horizon's curve, and the clouds overhead reflected pink and crimson in the day's dying light. A day came to a beautiful, inspiring end, and Albus closed the book on his second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

THE END

Author's Note: and thus it ends, the second of Albus Dumbledore's years at Hogwarts. I have thoroughly enjoyed taking this journey with you all. I thank every single reviewer who has (and will) review this story. Your comments shape the stories I write. I thank: flixy, SammyStar, Cloudslayer, Valandar, Melandry, babycino, speacalphred, ant87, belladonnacordial, Brigade701, hershey, Hogwarts-bad-boy, Arena, g, Jarno, waterlily422, rahul, notdiotima, Sara, Jessica Halliwell Potter, Erica Star, Meercat, gdh, TeeJaye, Celi, Silent Reader, DaReader, Zesuit, alexandira, gh, Godfric Potter, ROG1039, karthik, roniponi3333, almostanonymous, psychobubble, Draghknar, Ambrosius Emrys, arking, Fanfix, BovinePimp, blade13hip, Tabitha78, skittlelove, Sean, birds of morrigan, mthukral and The Allknowing Tonks. Thank you all.

I must hereby inform you that I have a book of my own to write, plus I am approaching my final university examinations at the end of this year. It will probably be a year before I have the opportunity to write Albus' third year at Hogwarts. But, seeing as everyone waits years for JK Rowling to update, I am sure you can forgive me a year. It is, in fact, a year to the day since I first started writing Albus Dumbledore and the Phoenix Feather, so I am certain my loyal readers will be able to wait that long. If not, thank you for taking the journey this far with me. I feel so privileged that people actually want to read my work. I hope my own book is this popular when I one day try to have it published in the real world! For now, thank you and goodbye. Your loyal Grandson of Dumbledore.