''Ah, Harry, my boy, please have a seat. Lemon drop?'' Dumbledore said, but Harry noticed that the smile and the twinkle in his eyes were strained.
Harry sat down but declined the Lemon drop. He really didn't like how they made him feel. He always felt a little nudge in his mind after eating them.
Dumbledore gave Harry a smile, one that was more concerning than comforting and Harry had a distinct feeling that he was not going to enjoy this meeting with the Headmaster. "You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry asked while his eyes darted around the room, soaking it in. The last time he had been in there his magic had accidentally destroyed the room in his pain and rage because Sirius had just died and Dumbledore had thought that it had been a good idea to tell his grieving and emotionally exhausted self about a stupid prophecy that seemed like a load of codswallop to him.
The old man sighed, a weary sigh, one that made him look all of his years old. That scared Harry because while he knew Dumbledore was old, incredibly so, he had never really felt old to harry. "I'm afraid— I'm afraid I've just confirmed a suspicion that I had hoped not to be true." He sighed again, and it sounded like he was grieving. So sad is the sigh. Harry realised that the usual mischievous twinkle in the older man's eye seemed to have gone out. Dumbledore continued, "I believe… It is time to tell you the truth about the connection between you and lord Voldemort.
"Sir?"
Dumbledore holds up a hand, asking for silence and no interruption. Harry is a little ticked off by the gesture but nods his head in acceptance.
"What I am about to tell you, Harry, will no doubt come as a great shock. I only ask that whatever I tell you, you do not interrupt me. It is imperative that you hear everything." He looked Harry directly in the eyes. Harry just blinked at him, nonplussed. "Your word, Harry," Harry nodded once, slowly.
Dumbledore took a deep breath but and closed his eyes. He leaned forwards in his chair and set his elbows on his desk while he put his hands together. After a moment, he rested his hands on his forehead as if in prayer. It only lasted a couple of seconds, but when he pulled his hands away, he looked wrecked.
"On the night Lord Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow to kill you when your mother cast her own life between the two of you as a shield, the killing curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort's soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only other living thing it could find. You, yourself,"
Harry drew in a sharp breath. No. It couldn't be. It couldn't.
Dumbledore continued. "Part of lord Voldemort lives inside you, Harry, and it is that which gives you the ability to speak to snakes and a connection with Lord Voldemort's mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to, and protected by you, Lord Voldemort cannot die,"
"So…to kill Voldemort…to kill Voldemort, I have to die?" Harry questioned, an unnatural calmness to his voice. He knew his answer already but he had a sliver of hope that he had just misunderstood or that any second now Dumbledore was going to tell him that he had a plan and wasn't going to send him to his death.
Dumbledore hung his head, refusing to look at harry's eyes and that was all the answer he needed. Harry felt a wave of pure anger pulse through him.
"You kept me alive so I could die at the proper moment. YOU'VE BEEN RAISING ME LIKE A PIG FOR SLAUGHTER!"
Dumbledore said nothing but kept his head bowed. That only seemed to aggravate Harry further."YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU CAN ROT IN HELL, OLD MAN. I'M NOT GOING TO WALK TO MY DEATH! SCREW THE WIZARDING WORLD FOR ALL I CARE!"
All Harry could feel was anger and contempt for his ex-mentor. He saw red. Literally. He stood from the chair, his magic shattering to smithereens. His eyes glowed bright green, killing curse green. His magic swirled around him in wonderful green and silver hues, reaching every corner of the room. His true colours. Dumbledore shrunk back, whimpering.
The power display truly was terrifying. His raw power could easily rival Voldemorts, but he had not nearly as much experience on how to wield it, he was still in school for merlin's sake. Harry's magic smashed the headmaster's desk in half and Dumbledore was thrown back into the wall by a particularly powerful wandless and wordless blasting charm. Harry stormed out of the office, his magic still destroying anything it could find. Trinkets? In smithereens. Desk? In two. Books? Blown off their shelves, burning in the fireplace. The office was in ruins, to put it plainly.
At that moment, everything had clicked into place. Dumbledore had been hiding things from him since the moment his parents died. Things he had a right to know. He knew that. He just didn't know the extent of it. He knew Dumbledore wasn't completely a good man, but now Harry was doubting he had more good in him than bad. He had discussed this with Ron and Hermione and they all agreed that some things just weren't adding up. Why hadn't Dumbledore used his powers as Supreme Mugwump or Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to release an innocent man from Azkaban? Surely with his influence, he could've helped Sirius when he found out about his innocence? Why would he let two thirteen-year-olds save the man with a Hippogriff?
Or why had Harry needed to return to the Dursleys every summer? For some blood wards? If Harry and Hermione were correct, blood wards were illegal. Why did the leader of the light use Dark magic? And why had Harry still needed to return after his fourth year? Voldemort used Harry's blood to be resurrected. He literally has the same blood in his system. But when Harry had vocalized his worries to Dumbledore, he had literally waved him away!
And why hadn't he ever tried to check up on Harry when Harry was with his Muggle relatives, relatives that didn't want him and locked him in a cupboard and starved him so many times?
Why hadn't Dumbledore pulled him out of the Triwizard tournament? As his official magical guardian, Dumbledore could have at the very least tried. He certainly had the power to do something! Unfortunately, Harry only figured that out in his fifth year.
When taking all that into account, Harry realized that the dark side was practically the lesser of two evils! They didn't put children in abusive homes. They didn't put underage children in dangerous tournaments against their will. They didn't accuse innocent people of murder. They weren't hypocrites! Dumbledore was easily just as bad as Voldemort. Maybe worse! Despite all that Dumbledore had and had not done, he still had some respect for the man. He had given him a home away from the Dursleys, after all. But this had been the last straw. He refused to be used! He was done with Dumbledore, done with the light.
He recalled the memories Dumbledore had shown him of Tom Riddle and how he had mocked Harry when he felt sympathy for the poor 11-year-old orphan. He remembered being appalled and horrified when Dumbledore had set Tom's closet on fire, and likely all his belongings too just because he had nicked a couple of things to try to make his life less bleak. The boy needed guidance and understanding, not to be shunned by someone who was supposed to help him learn and grow. He couldn't help but see the similarities between himself and Tom riddle. They both had horrible childhoods, they were both half-bloods, they both had phoenix feather wand cores, both talented, charming (tom admittedly more so) and powerful and had a way of getting what they wanted. They even looked alike! Hell, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he had turned into a dark lord himself if Dumbledore hadn't gotten his hands on him!
Harry figured that it wouldn't do for Voldemort to die, no, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Dumbledore was the real villain here. He needed to warn Voldemort that Dumbledore knew about his Horcruxes and was trying to destroy them. He also needed Voldemort to know what had happened that night in Godric's Hollow and how Harry had become his Horcrux. He contemplated his options. He could apologize to dumbledore, do some damage control, and continue on like before. But did he really want to? No. No, he didn't. He was tired of always having to wear the Gryffindor golden boy mask. He wanted to be able to act like himself without half the school shunning him or The Daily Prophet calling him the next dark lord. He was going to be his true self.
Harry sighed. He had not seen the headmaster since he had thrashed his office and wondered what the man could possibly be doing. Hopefully trying to fix the damage he had caused to his office. Harry wished him luck with that. He had used Parselmagic, something he had discovered in the restricted section of the library. Although he could only speak Parseltongue because of the piece of Snakeface's soul inside him, and every time he spoke it he was painfully reminded of the piece of soul that was doing Merlin knows what inside of him, Harry thought that he might as well make the best of the situation.
He was even thinking about getting a snake as a familiar. He thought it might even be worth the hate he was no doubt going to have to endure for being 'the next dark lord'. Harry knew that snakes were considered dark creatures in the wizarding world but he couldn't stop thinking about how useful it could be to have a familiar that he could converse with! Don't get him wrong, he loved Hedwig but she could be a bit... dim at times. It really was dead useful. Parselmagic could only be done and undone by a Parselmouth. And unless he had become best friends with Voldemort in the last 24 hours, the Headmaster was going to have a tough time. He scoffed. It seemed to be the only good thing that came out of this.
He was currently in defense, and while it was his favorite subject, he had long since mastered the material that they were covering and it all seemed to come quite easy to him. He was easily into first masters. He could perform any spell he was taught with little to no instruction. He just needed the incantation and wand movement. Not to mention, Snape was their teacher, and Harry didn't care for a thing the man said. He trusted Snape just about as far as he could throw him.
He just tuned out Snapes' annoying, deep drawl and focused on his plan. He had to have a plan this time. He couldn't depend on his 'infamous Potter luck' as Snape liked to put it. He was going into the snake den. He knew it was virtually impossible to get to Voldemort without getting abducted and tortured by one of his death eaters first. So… how in Merlins' name was he going to do this? He was interrupted from his musings by Snape's irritated voice calling his name. "—ter potter! Mister Potter! "WHAT?!" He snapped, a little… a lot too loudly. He heard Hermione gasp from beside him. He wanted to roll his eyes. He could care less for what Snape had to say to him.
He had no issue with telling Snape to sod off but he knew there was no way Snape would let him off lightly for such blatant disrespect. Ha! When had Snape ever let him off lightly? Snapes' glare turned murderous, as if he could read his mind. Well... he could. "Think you're above paying attention, do you Potter? Insolent brat! You're just like your father! 20 points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a teacher. And another 20 points for not paying attention in class! Should I break a record and take 60 points from one student?" On any other day, 40 points being deducted would have pissed him off, but on that day it just made him laugh. A little hysterically. Once he started, he couldn't stop. It just bubbled up out of him, uncontrollably.
"DO YOU REALLY THINK," a loud giggle tore its way through his throat. "THAT I CARE ABOUT-" Another giggle. "-HOUSE POINTS?" He was outright cackling at that point. Bloody hell, he sounded like Bellatrix! But he couldn't stop. He just couldn't. Snape really thought he cared about house points?! Really?! He had been told, no less than twelve hours ago, that he had to walk to his literal death. At the rate he was going, he would be lucky if he lived past the month, let alone to see if he had won the house cup or not. A distant part of his mind had realized that the whole class was looking at him as if he had gone mental. Hell, maybe he had!
He felt as if he was watching himself from an outsider's view, like he had dissociated just a little too far this time. Snape, instead of spitting insults at him and frothing at the mouth and taking more points as he had expected, was looking at him in incredulous… concern? Ha! Snape! Concerned about him! What's next? Voldemort inviting him over for tea? Thinking about Voldemort just made him laugh even harder. This was irony at its finest! Fate really seemed to have it in for him! He couldn't stop.
His laughing was borderline crying, and Harry could feel himself almost gasping for air. He was losing control. Fast. Snape hastily reached into his robes for something. 'His wand, probably,' Harry thought, 'To hex his mouth shut' But he was surprised when a small vial was thrust into his hand. "Drink,'' Snape commanded. He had no idea why he obeyed but he uncorked the bottle and downed the stuff. It had a bitter taste and slid down his throat like cold, raw eggs. He wanted to gag. Almost immediately though, he felt himself calming down. His loud hysterical guffaws subsided to slightly softer hysterical guffaws and eventually soft giggles. His hair was mussed and his robes were in disarray. He looked like he could be the poster boy for a homeless person shelter.
He still had a manic glint in his eyes and Harry thought he must look slightly deranged. Snape, on the other hand, looked composed and collected, as he always did. On the inside, though, he was still reeling from what had happened. What had brought on that hysterical laughing fit and why had Potter looked so… insane? Harry Potter was one of the most stable students at Hogwarts. He shuddered to think what could have brought him to that state. It had been slightly concerning. The laugh had been bereft of any mirth and seemed… almost hysterical. Potter looked on the verge of tears. They always said there is a fine line between laughter and pain. Regardless, It was truly one of the most disturbing things he had witnessed in a while. What was wrong with Potter? He was going to get to the bottom of this. He had to. No more pawning him off to other people, he had to deal with this, he owed Lily that much.
"Class dismissed!" Snape's silky voice called out. The entire class rushed to clear out, eager to get out of the frigid dungeons (save for the Slytherins, of course) but slightly surprised that Snape had dismissed them early. It was only by a few minutes but it was Snape, and Snape never dismissed them early. Harry hastily packed his things into his bag and scrambled to the door, hoping to avoid a confrontation with his teacher. He internally scoffed. Not bloody likely. "Not so quick, Mr Potter," Snape intoned. Harry gave a half sigh, stopping dead in his tracks. He knew it was inevitable. Ron and Hermione gave him a look and he knew they were asking him if they should wait for him. Hermione looked mildly concerned and he knew he was going to be interrogated by her about what had happened later. Was it so hard for him to catch a break? He gave them a small shake of his head, this wasn't a social call. Snape was looking for answers. He was going to be a while. Harry watched longingly at the door as the last of the students filed out and speculated if he could make a run for it. His hopes were crushed when Snape flicked his wand and the dungeon door closed with a loud, resounding bang. And while he knew the door wasn't locked, The Boy Who Lived couldn't help but feel trapped.