Chapter 8
With a muted bang, Harry burst out of the fireplace inside the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. He waited for the dizziness to settle, and perhaps for the soot to dissipate, but for him, there was no such luck. Coughing up to clear his lungs, he looked up to see the two older wizards were looking at him with an amused expression. The portraits of the old Headmasters and Headmistresses were peeking at him while maintaining the deception that they were sleeping. Harry grimaced as he climbed up to his feet, dusting his now grimy clothes and adding more to the already messy carpeted floor of the office.
"Um… Sorry for the mess, Professor."
Dumbledore vanished the mess with nary a word and a moment later cleared up the dirty youth.
"Is this your first time using a floo, my boy?"
Harry brushed his hands over his now-clean clothes, thinking about the ease of the laundry for him back at the Dursleys' if only he was allowed to use magic.
"Not exactly. I used the floo to get to Diagon Alley last year from the Weasly house. Only I ended up at Knockturn Alley instead." He mumbled the last part.
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, "I keep forgetting how little you know of our world -" he raised a hand to stop Harry's protests, "- through no fault of your own. If anyone is to be blamed for this, it is I. Because I have been remiss in performing my duties." He smiled sadly. "Please, remind me to teach you how to properly use the floo network once we are done. It is but a simple trick and only takes a few minutes to learn."
Harry nodded. He looked around the office finally. Everything was the same since the last time he'd been in this office, which was not even a month ago. There were bookcases full of old, heavy-looking tomes. He was sure that Hermione would drool over them if she ever visited the Headmaster at his office. Several interesting looking things adorned the walls – things like the map of England, where a few winking dots could be seen at different locations; a very old handgun hung from a hook; things he didn't even know the names of and finally, the Sword of Gryffindor on a rack against the far side wall encased in glass. The Sorting Hat was sleeping in one of the bookcases and finally, just left to the giant, ornate desk stood a bird perch on which resting was a swan sized bird of red and yellow plumage. The said bird let out a happy trill when he saw the young wizard looking at him. He flapped his wings once to travel from his perch onto Harry's shoulder.
"' Lo Fawkes, how are you?"
The bird let out a few musical notes in reply.
"Er… no, I don't have any on me. But I will buy some at Diagon Alley the next time. I promise."
Another trill.
"Oh, um… those are not that bad, really. A little tart, but that's good, right? And Professor Dumbledore loves them, so…"
He had almost forgotten about the others in the office. He looked towards the desk to see the older wizards – Professor Albus Dumbledore and Newt Scamander looking at him incredulously.
"Do you understand Fawkes as well, Harry?"
Harry looked back at the bird still sitting comfortably on his shoulder, he stroked his chest, making the bird close his eyes in pleasure.
"Erm… kinda. I mean, it's not like how Hedwig talks to me. Or how the snakes do. But kinda like a foreigner speaks, you know, with an accent? But I do understand him."
Newt sat down heavily in one of the chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk, while the Headmaster kept looking at Harry thoughtfully.
"If I may ask, Harry, what did Fawkes tell you?"
"Oh, he asked If I have any orange-flavoured sweets on me. Because he thinks the lemon drops you prefer are too tart for his taste. I promised I will buy some for him." Fawkes bobbed his head in assent with Harry's reply.
"This is simply unbelievable." Newt had his face hidden in his hands.
"Um… Sorry, but what is unbelievable?" Harry didn't know why these two wizards were acting weirdly.
Professor Dumbledore took his time to sit down. Then he placed his elbows on the desk and put his chin on the joined hands.
"Harry, for a human to understand an animal is not possible if there is no familiar bond between them. Highly intelligent beings, such as Fawkes and Hedwig, can commune with the other simply by their body language, but not as clearly as speaking to another human. Your bond with Hedwig has helped you to commune with her. You being a Parselmouth has helped you to talk with the serpents, because Parseltongue is a magical language. It is said to be the language of nature and wind spirits and through it, one can commune with nature. I don't know the source of this saying, but if it was true, then we would have people among us who can talk with avian creatures or plants.
However, for you to understand another creature who is not your familiar, is unheard of. Tell me, my boy, did you always understand what Fawkes was saying?"
Harry frowned in thought, "Not exactly. Er… I mean I didn't talk to him a lot before the Chamber. And then, it was sort of some images… like he was giving me an example of what he wants. But now, I could understand him like he was actually talking to me."
Dumbledore leaned forward and looked at Harry over his half-moon glasses, "What you said, Harry, is how a phoenix communes with humans who are not their familiar. But the later part of your answer is something I am hearing for the first time in my knowledge. What do you think has changed for you to understand Fawkes?"
"Uh… dunno, I – Hang on, do you think it is because of my changes?"
Dumbledore gave him a serene smile, "Your guess is as good as mine, dear boy."
"Professor," Newt called out, "If I may?" He motioned towards Harry. Dumbledore nodded his head.
"Mr Potter, may I call you Harry?"
Harry nodded dumbly.
"Wonderful. Now, I want to run a small experiment, if you'll allow me."
"What kind of experiment, Professor?" Harry asked warily.
"Nothing painful, I swear to you. I just want to test your communication skill. May I?"
Harry agreed only because Dumbledore remained calm. Mr Scamander seemed to be talking to the lapel of his blue overcoat, "Pick, could you come out, please? I need your assistance."
Harry didn't know what to expect, but he was nonetheless very surprised when a small, twig-like creature climbed out of Professor Scamander's pocket and carefully climbed down on the table. Harry looked on with wonder at the creature, who had very thin limbs, a small leaf-like appendage on its head that looked like stylishly coiffed hair, small, insect-like eyes and a very tiny mouth.
"Harry, meet Pickett III. His great-grandfather, the original Pickett was a dear friend of mine and a source of many headaches. Pick, this is Mr Harry Potter, our new friend."
The tiny being looked inquisitively at Harry. Harry, feeling a little unsure, offered a finger to him, "Er… Hello, Mr Pickett, nice to meet you."
Pickett grabbed the finger with his hand and chittered at Harry.
"Um… I am sure that he was only joking, and not insulting your grandfather."
Harry jumped at the sound of roaring laughter. Newt Scamander was laughing so hard that he doubled over. Pickett, alarmed by that, had scrambled up Harry's arm and hid behind his right ear. He peeked from his cover and shook his tiny fist at the laughing wizard and chittered very annoyed.
"I don't think he has gone mad…" Harry tried to console him.
"Pardon me, Harry," Newt managed to compose himself finally, "but what you did just now, it's beyond words. I can't express what I am feeling to you right now. You can change the way we think, things that we have taken for granted."
Harry grimaced, "Great, another thing for people to gawk at me like the freak. I just want to be normal."
Dumbledore cut into the conversation, "My boy, you are not a freak. You are a powerful young man, you are showing signs of power that was unheard of except in some myths. And I am sad to tell you that you can never be a normal, ordinary young wizard, Harry. Because you are destined to be something great, something for people to look up to you."
Harry thought about what the Headmaster told him and nodded in acceptance for the time being, though he had his doubts still. But that didn't mean he has to like it. Pickett chittered at him some more and he was busy in a whispered conversation with the being that Professor Scamander explained to be a bowtruckle, guardians of wand trees.
"Harry," Dumbledore called, breaking him out of his hushed conversation, "to carry out our previous discussion back at the Cauldron, I need you to tell me in your words about what do you think has caused your changes. Any magical beings or artefacts that you have come in contact with and you think are or were powerful enough, should be on your list. Anything to help us understand your situation."
"Oh, I can do that, yeah." Harry began excitedly, but at the next second his face fell, "But there are too many things, I don't know if I can explain everything as it was, Sir."
"You just completed your Second Year of schooling. How many extracurricular activities have you managed to complete within this short amount of time?" New asked with a little doubt in his voice.
Dumbledore chuckled hearing that, "I want to point out that young Harry and his friends have been rather busy during the past years, Newt. Busier than even you if I may say so." He turned towards a blushing Harry, "And I have a perfect solution for your predicament." Dumbledore waved his wand and a cupboard to the side opened on its own and something flew out of it to land on the Headmaster's desk. The thing looked like a stone basin with some silvery liquid inside of it and several symbols etched on and around it.
"This, Harry, is a Pensive. It is a magical artefact that can store one's memories and also helps one to view those stored memories. If you allow us, we will collect your relevant memories and with your guidance, watch them as they happened. I think we can find something in those memories regarding your situation."
"Hang on, wizards not only can read others' minds, but they can view their memories like a movie?" Harry was looking at the now named Pensive with apprehension.
"While I haven't seen any movie myself, but from the context that I have gathered over the years, I can safely say that viewing memory is somewhat like watching a movie. You can see everything in the memory as it happened, but you cannot interact with the people and or any of the things in that memory." Dumbledore looked at him expectantly.
Harry knew what the Headmaster wanted from him, but he was reluctant to share so much. It was not that he was ashamed of his past or something stupid like that. It is simply the fact that he didn't want any pity from anyone. He became aware that the Dursleys were anything but the normal that they loved to claim since he began his schooling. He was very observant and could assimilate information without much effort. He understood that normal people don't stuff their wards into a tiny cupboard under the stairs or starve them for any perceived infraction of rules. He felt that tackling the Dursleys was his battle, something that he learnt in the history class – survival of the fittest. He wanted to beat the Dursleys on their own terms. When he finally arrived in the wizarding world, he thought that maybe he could do without the ongoing clashes with his relatives, and thus, he requested the Headmaster to stay at the castle during the summer breaks. When the old wizard denied that request, he accepted it in his stride because he was more than well equipped to handle that normalcy loving dysfunctional and abnormal bunch.
Dumbledore cottoned on to Harry's hesitation, he cleared his throat and gently spoke –
"You have nothing to be afraid of, Harry. I can and will promise you that we will not think any different of you than we are now."
Fawkes trilled from her perch in agreement. Harry looked up to see first the Headmaster, then the Magizoologist, then the majestic bird, and finally, the tiny green being who sat on his palm looking up at him curiously.
Harry sighed, and started to speak in a low voice, "I am not afraid or ashamed, Professor. It's just that… well, the Dursleys aren't good people. I don't want to inflict that lot even at Voldemort, let alone to those I respect and admire."
Dumbledore frowned at the comparison, but he ignored it for the moment, "I cannot say that I understand your sentiment, Harry. However, if you don't want to go through this plan, we can think up something else…" He let the ending of his comment hang in the air.
"No!" Harry immediately blurted out, then he took a deep breath before continuing, "No, if it helps with whatever this is I am facing now, then I am all for it. What do I need to do, Professor?"
Dumbledore gave him an encouraging smile, "You only have to think about the memories, bring them forth in your mind. Then I will collect them and store them in the Pensive. Afterwards, we will take a stroll through your memories with you acting as our guide."
Harry nodded his head indicating that he understood what the Headmaster wanted him to do. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He frowned in concentration and then after a while, he gave a small nod for the Headmaster to let him collect the memory from his temple by the tip of his wand. As he removed the wand from his temple, a silvery wisp, much like what Harry produced when he was trying to cast the Patronus charm, came out clinging to the wand. Dumbledore didn't add that wisp to the Pensive, but to one of the small vials that he had conjured beforehand. This process continued for a long time and the Headmaster's desk was almost covered in glass vials with swirling silvery memory strands in them.
Newt let out a low whistle, "That is a lot of memories!"
Dumbledore chuckled, "As I told you, Newt, Harry had been quite busy." He took up the first-ever vial and asked, "What are we about to see, Harry?"
Harry grimaced a little, "Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge Dursley, often comes to visit and she always brings her pet bulldog, Ripper. I don't think Ripper is magical, but he is quite powerful… er, strong. Well, to my young self he was."
Dumbledore nodded and poured the memory into the stone basin. He swirled it with his wand.
"Now, all you need to do is reach out and touch the surface with your finger. We will be joining you shortly."
[TUP]
It was a bright, sunny day. A little, bedraggled boy was labouring in a sparse backyard garden. He had just finished weeding around the few rosebushes, the rooted out small plants were put to a side in a heap. The boy was busy pruning the bushes. He wiped his brow to prevent the sweat from trickling down to his bespectacled eyes, but he either didn't realize or cared that his dirty hand left a muddy trail on his forehead.
A booming voice of a woman came from the house, "Just let him out of the door, Petunia. Ripper wants to run for a bit."
Another voice, a bit whiney, replied to that – "What if he dug up all the plants and bushes, Marge?"
"Pish-posh," the first voice said, "even if he does so, the boy shouldn't have a problem cleaning it all up. He needs to stop lazing about, doesn't he? Don't you worry about a thing, dear."
With that, the backdoor slammed open and a bulldog came charging out of it. The dog stopped to sniff around himself, then he sniffed the air and let out a growl. He ran towards the boy working in the garden, barking up a storm. The boy had stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder. His emerald green eyes widened in fear. He jumped to his feet and ran for his life, with the dog right at his heels. The taped, too big for his feet shoes came undone and slipped out of his tiny feet, making him falter, but he didn't stop. The dog stopped in his pursuit and attacked the battered shoe. It was not for long, however, as the dog soon abandoned the shoe for the bigger target. The boy by then had reached a small tree at a corner of the garden and was trying to scramble up to its small branch. The dog jumped up and managed to sink his teeth into the boy's calf. The boy's painful scream and the dog's barking alerted the residents of the house. They came out of the backdoor to see what the commotion was about.
A big woman, although, calling her a woman was a bit of a stretch since she sported quite an enviable moustache, yelled at the child, "You, boy, what did you do to my poor Ripper?"
"I didn't do anything, Aunt Marge, I was working out here when Ripper came out and started chasing me." His free leg was flailing about and somehow connected with the dog. The dog yelped and let go of the boy.
"You little freak, you liar! You just kicked my Ripper and have the gall to tell me you didn't do anything?" She stomped toward the tree. The boy had, by then, managed to heave himself to the branch and was sitting on it securely. "Come down here this instant!"
The boy took a look at the still growling dog and shook his head nervously. He was out of everybody's reach for a while.
The lady uttered a few more futile threats to get the boy to climb off of the tree. Finally, in frustration, she yelled – "Fine, stay up there for the night then! Ripper, tear his legs off if he dares to come down!" She stomped down her previously beaten path on her massive trunk-like legs. Another woman was lurking just beyond the backdoor, though she didn't come out to the yard, she kept casting her eyes about to the houses on either side. The second woman gave the boy up the tree a scathing look before disappearing inside of the house as well. The boy let out a relieved sigh as he leaned back against the tree and gingerly rolled up his torn pants leg to examine the damage the dog did to his leg. He wiped as much blood as he could with his sleeves and peered down, there was a bite-mark on his calf but the swelling was not much. Even as he watched on, the wound seemed to shrink before his very eyes. The boy frowned down at the dog who was still sitting under the tree and looking upwards at him, all the while growling low in his throat. The boy broke off a small twig to chuck at the dog.
The three wizards who were watching the events unfold stepped closer to the tree. The oldest of the trio had his jaws set and lips pursed. The youngest was shuffling from foot to foot while the middle one was looking closely at the bite mark on the boy's leg.
"Do dog bites heal this fast?" Newt Scamander threw the question in the air.
"Not to my knowledge, no." Albus Dumbledore replied sombrely.
They both turned to look at the teen in between them. Harry shrugged a shoulder.
"I've always healed fast. I guessed it was one of the weirdness for what the Dursleys called me a freak, you know, along with growing hair over the night and teleporting on the rooftops."
"Harry," Dumbledore began in a stern voice, "please answer me truthfully. In all the memories we've seen so far concerning the Dursleys, never did your aunt speak up in your favour, instead, she sometimes piled on whatever punishment Vernon incurred upon you for their seeming slights. Does she always behave like that?"
Harry hesitated to answer, "Er… it's not that bad now. I mean once I began to understand what's what, I have been giving them a lot of grief about everything. But they are not bright enough to understand those things."
Dumbledore nodded, but he didn't leave the topic altogether, "We will be having a discussion later." His tone brokered no argument.
Harry could only sigh and nodded his head in agreement.
[TUP]
The trio of wizards were now at the Third Floor Girls' Toilet, looking around the devastated room after the troll was brought down by three First Years. Dumbledore had sent some kind of command for the Pensive to stop the memory. So what they were seeing now was the troll frozen at an angle, stopped just short of toppling over, the memory version of Ron was standing near the doors with his hand raised but the wand pointing down, Hermione peering from under the lone intact basin where she had burrowed herself to escape from the troll, and Harry himself was staring at the troll from the floor with a dazed expression. He was just dropped on his head by the troll and was dripped on by troll blood.
"You had a deep gash on your right shoulder," Dumbledore was bending down looking at the prone form of memory Harry, "but when we arrived and scanned the three of you, none of you had any injuries."
"Er… like I told you, Sir, I heal fast."
Dumbledore nodded and stood up, his frown deepened.
Newt Scamander pointed his fingers towards the greenish liquid that was splattered over the boy. "The troll blood sipped into his wound."
"It appears so, yes." Dumbledore agreed.
"Undiluted troll blood, Professor." The Magizoologist was also frowning.
"Er… why should that matter?" Harry asked innocently.
Dumbledore sighed, "It matters, Harry, because undiluted troll blood when used in potions, they lower their shelf value. While the troll entrails and other body parts are useless in a potion, their blood, however, is not. Diluted with the essence of fubberworm and moonstone, they enhance a potion's effects. Undiluted, the potions act more potent than the normal desired effect which is required in emergent scenarios such as blood-replenishing potions for severely wounded, but the potions are spoiled if they are kept for more than a couple of days.
What Newt meant to say is that you've absorbed undiluted troll blood into your system through your open wound. There aren't any studies or experiments conducted by anyone ever to find out what effect would undiluted troll blood alone will bring to someone without the presence of other ingredients generally found in potions. If you don't mind, can you please try to remember if you felt anything odd about yourself afterwards?"
Harry scratched his head as he was thinking hard about what he did or felt after the toilet incident back in Hallowe'en '91.
"Er… I was hungry?"
The two grown-up wizards could only sigh forlornly.
[TUP]
The three were now standing in the Forbidden Forest. The memory was again stopped by the Headmaster by the time Hagrid reached the place where Firenze stood guard over younger Harry and the fallen unicorn. They had watched how the then First Year Harry Potter tried to save the noble beast with everything he had at the time. Dumbledore gave his shoulder a sympathetic and proud squeeze when they saw the young boy trying to channel his own magic into the unicorn by willing him to live. It had been nearly two years since that day, but Harry still felt a bit hollow inside. He somehow blamed himself still that he couldn't save the unicorn.
Newt noticed the lone tear trickling down the cheek of his young companion. As a protector of creatures himself, he could feel what the boy was feeling. He crouched down on one knee in front of the teen.
"Harry, look at me." The stubborn boy kept his face averted because he didn't want to see either of the elders his tears. Newt smiled sadly at him. "Harry, I know how you are feeling now. I know how you felt back then. The gnawing of the guilt that you couldn't save that innocent beast still eats your inside. In my life, I have had to face many situations like this. Each time I failed to save an innocent life, they became unbearable burdens to me. But they also hardened my resolution. I have learned from each experience. I have tried to make myself better so that I won't be helpless the next time fate forces me into the same situation. I cannot claim that I have been successful every time since the first I had watched a hippogriff put to death, but I made it my duty to look after his kind and all the others that I can and most definitely will help. Use the rage in your heart to drive yourself forward. Remember the death of your friend here so that you can prepare yourself to do better the next time."
Harry did listen to the speech while his eyes remained glued to the stilled memory image of the noble beast. He gave Newt a watery smile and a resolute nod. Newt gave him a small smile in return and got up after giving him a clap on the shoulder.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in the faint silvery light of the memory moon. He whispered to his former student, "I couldn't have said it any better myself, Newt."
"Well, I did learn from you, so in a way, it was your speech I delivered."
Dumbledore chuckled and returned his attention to the reason they were inside of the Pensive currently. He pointed at younger Harry's hands which hovered over the unicorn's fallen body.
"Harry had cuts on his hands when he fell over. In his bid to try and save the poor creature he didn't notice that unicorn blood and tear was getting mixed with his blood. Then, after that, due to his incredible healing ability, he was left with no wound at all, but the unicorn blood and tear did enter his bloodstream."
Newt nodded in agreement, "And not in a small amount either. He was very determined to save him and had his hands pushed against the wound for quite a while. Now the question is if the blood can be considered 'freely given' or 'forcefully taken' in Harry's case. My thoughts lean towards the former since he had no idea that he was consuming unicorn blood and tears and had pure intentions in his heart. What do you think, Professor?"
"I agree with you, of course. If it was the latter then young Harry would've shown the adverse effects of consuming unicorn blood."
"I am afraid to even take a gander at what the unicorn blood did to his system, again undiluted and in context with the already present undiluted troll blood in his system."
"I am afraid we have still many more memories to go through and so much more to witness."
"He truly doesn't do anything by half measure, that boy. Does he, Professor?"
"As I have said before, Harry Potter is a remarkable young wizard."
"What was that black creature?"
"It was that year's Defense Professor, possessed by Lord Voldemort."
"Vol – He isn't dead?!"
"I am afraid not. Although his body was destroyed that fateful night, he still lingers in the mortal plane."
"Bugger!"
"Indeed."
[TUP]
In the next set of memories, the three wizards watched as the then three First Years encountered the traps set by the Hogwarts Professors and went down the dungeon where the Philosophers' Stone was kept. Newt Scamander watched with disbelieving eyes as Quirrell revealed the parasitic form of the Dark Lord Voldemort on the back of his head. Both Dumbledore and Scamander cast proud eyes at the embarrassed youth with them when his younger self stood firm against the murderer of his parents. The memory was paused just as the shade tried to escape by leeching off Harry's magical energy and the arrival of the then Albus Dumbledore.
"A Cerberus; Devil's Snare; enchanted flying keys; giant chessboard; a mountain troll; a logic puzzle and finally, a powerful and historically important magical artefact. These were your defence against Voldemort?" Newt looked at his old professor incredulously.
Dumbledore was not at all abashed, he even had a grin on his face which would have been very fitting on the Weasley twins when they were successful in pulling a prank.
"All of those were designed to generate a false sense of security for the intruder till they reach the final obstacle. The Mirror of Erised was indeed a very powerful magical artefact. Any to approach the mirror would have been inevitably stuck in a never-ending loop before it. None was supposed to find the Stone. I am still not sure how young Harry managed to obtain it." They both turned their gazes towards the bashful youth.
Harry just shrugged his shoulder, "I didn't know what to think back then. I had a splitting headache, I was hurting from being dragged on the floor and from the other traps that now I know were just for the show. When Quirrell made me stand in front of the Mirror, the only thing that ran through my mind was that I needed to keep the Stone safe, not use it, but keep it safe. Then I saw the Mirror me pulling out the Stone from his pocket and winking at me before he put it back. And what do you know, suddenly I had the Stone in my pocket." Harry looked at the Headmaster confusedly, he was hoping the wise Professor would have an answer for him.
Dumbledore was running his fingers through his beard as he was listening to Harry's explanation. It did invoke a level of curiosity in him. Why indeed did the Mirror relinquish the Stone in the boy's care?
"When I put the Stone inside of the Mirror," Dumbledore mused out loud, "I put an enchantment on it to strengthen the already powerful ability of the Mirror, which was showing the viewer their deepest desire. They would keep seeing the Stone and the various feats of magic it was rumoured to be able to attain. So when you stood before the Mirror, you…" The Headmaster trailed off.
"Professor?" Newt called out to him.
Dumbledore turned towards him and gave him a wan smile, "The true strength of youth is to look for the simplest of solutions to the hardest of problems, Newt. It's been proven once again that we, the adults, often overlook our priorities because we chase after unnecessary complications rather than the simplicity of life. When young Harry was brought before the Mirror, his ardent desire was to protect the Stone. Neither finding it, not using it, but protecting it. As I have said all along, magic is intentional. Harry's intent didn't differ from the magic woven in the Mirror, and therefore, to my reasoning, the Mirror thought of Harry as an extension of itself and relinquished its hold over the Stone in favour of him. Simple, yet brilliant." Dumbledore gave Harry a short bow.
"Er… right." Harry didn't know what else to say. He frowned for a bit before speaking again," Um, Professor Dumbledore?"
"Yes, my boy?"
"What you said just now, about magic is all about intent, you really believe that?"
"I do indeed. Why do you ask?"
Harry looked down to the ground and mumbled, "Voldemort said something similar. Didn't you hear him saying stuff like there is no light and dark magic, only power and those too weak to wield it? It kinda sounded to me like he was talking about intent like you just did."
Dumbledore smiled sadly, "I can understand your confusion, Harry. Lord Voldemort was one of the most brilliant minds in the last century. He remains so even in his incorporeal state. He understood magic like no one else save for a few individuals – such as myself, not to sound vain along with your mother, Lily and most recently, your friend, the lovely Miss Granger." Harry smiled hearing that. People always mentioned the brilliance of the Potter couple. Most of them said flattering things about his father, but very few of them sang praises for his mother. Then there was Hermione, she was scary brilliant. To hear the Headmaster comparing her with his mother and above all, with himself did give credit to her intelligence.
"You are omitting one name from the list, Professor." Newt gave the man a pointed look.
Dumbledore shook his head, "I didn't omit that name. That person sought after power and only that. They had no patience to understand the intricacies of magic like Voldemort did. If Voldemort could be deterred from his intentional path, I dare say we would have had our most brilliant Minister for Magic; a phenomenal teacher; or perhaps, a world-renowned healer.
Now, I believe we have been sufficiently distracted from the reason we were here, so let us get back to the subject on hand, please."
"Yes," Newt agreed, "We have seen Harry and his friends managed to get past the traps set by the Hogwarts teachers. A right brilliant display of knowledge, resourcefulness and courage. Moreover, Harry didn't come in contact with anything magically powerful this time. I mean, there was a Cerberus of all things. Legends tell the tale of this breed of dogs being hellhounds, and there are still some clashes of opinions about the species possessing magical abilities such as Umbrakinesis."
Harry opened his mouth to ask but Newt predicted his question and answered, "Darkness or shadow manipulation."
Harry's eyes widened and they glazed over in thought. If he had the power of shadow manipulations, the things he could do – Getting Malfoy in trouble rated top of the chart.
"While I do agree with your observations, Newt, I would, however, like to direct your attention here." Dumbledore was on his knees as he was examining memory Harry's stilled form on the ground. Newt went over to him and looked closely at where Dumbledore was pointing.
"What are we looking for, Professor?"
"That," the Headmaster pointed at the open wounds on Harry's hands, "At that time, I didn't think about looking closely as getting Harry to safety was my priority. So I grabbed the Stone and took young Harry to the Hospital Wing. He was unconscious due to severe magical exhaustion, but still had no other injuries about him. Those gashes on his palms and the burns were healed by the time it took me to carry him into Poppy's domain."
"And that was after the wraith went through him and I am assuming leeching off a considerable amount of energy from our young friend here?"
"My thoughts exactly." Dumbledore nodded, "Voldemort needed the power after his forceful exorcism from poor Quirrinus' body. But that was not what I am referring to, of course, I meant for you to take a look at the wounds on Harry's hands."
Newt peered closer, and so did Harry, but none of them saw what the Headmaster wanted them to see.
"During their struggle, the Stone was dropped. I didn't see it back then, but it was chipped. When Harry, in his half-conscious state tried to grab it, unbeknownst to him, the broken off shards were embedded into his wounds. And since there was no wound to be found on his body in the Hospital Wing, therefore, they were not cleaned as they closed on their own, and to my logical assumption, the stone shards were infused into his system."
Newt had to sit down lest he toppled over from the information he had just received.
"So now there are small pieces of the Philosophers' Stone in his system?"
"I am afraid so."
"How did you even spot that? They are impossible to look for, because of how small the shards were. I didn't even know they were there if I wasn't looking for them specifically… and I still didn't."
"Enchanted glasses, my boy, they help an old man to look closer into things."
"Damn you, Professor!"
[TUP]
"Harry, would you please tell us why you felt the need to chew on Mandrake leaves?"
"Er… they looked like those apple leaves I used to chew on back at the Dursleys? The apple tree in the neighbour's yard didn't have the fruits all around the year, so I used to chew on those leaves when I felt very hungry. Seeing the Mandrake trees kinda made me remember those days. So I nicked some of the leaves to eat for old times' sake."
"We will be having that discussion soon, Mr Potter."
"Right, Professor."
"Can you give us an estimate of how much of the leaves you have consumed?"
"Er… no, but I can give you a timeframe if you want."
"That is better than nothing. If you please, Harry."
"I ate those leaves for about three months, I think. The entire time we took care of them in Professor Sprout's class."
"I was afraid you would say that."
"Why does it matter, Professor?"
"Because Mandrake leaves carry the properties in them that make a human body more malleable. That is why they are used in Restorative Draught and Animagus Transformation Potion. However, Harry had consumed more than the advised amount for the Transformation Potion. In that situation, the drinker has to keep the leaf in their mouth for twenty-eight days, a moon's cycle. Then that leaf, the single leaf, saturated with the drinker's saliva and therefore, their magical essence, is to be used in the potion.
The Restorative Draught uses two tablespoons worth of powdered Mandrake leaves, that is about two whole leaves. This amount is considered to be the highest anyone can consume. And that is simply because the drinker is being brought to normal from their petrified state. Any more of the leaves and it builds up toxicity in the drinker's system."
"And Harry ate those things a handful a day?"
"Apparently he didn't show any adverse effects of the Mandrake toxin, which if I am to guess, is due to the healing properties of unicorn blood and tears, as well as the Stone shards being present in his system. Furthermore, I am beginning to see a pattern which only leads to the reason why we are taking a stroll through the memory lane."
"All of these caused me to change into an owl and a snake?"
"Possible. But there is still something we seem to be missing to complete the equation."
[TUP]
The trio was back at the Forbidden Forest for once more. They had observed how Harry and Ron tried to negotiate with Aragog and his family and had that turned against them. The Headmaster stopped the memory right after the two Second Years got into the enchanted car along with Hagrid's dog.
"There is that large of an acromantula nest in the Forbidden Forest?!" Newt broke the silence. A clear sign of incredulity and fear was present in his tone.
Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, Hagrid had Aragog since he was an egg. Later, he brought a mate for Aragog and they've since been busy in making the nest we have just seen."
"Headmaster, do you realize the danger in having that big a nest of acromantula near a school full of children? Not only are the creatures registered as XXXX and therefore, extremely dangerous and illegal to breed, but the big one, Aragog, has developed a sentient mind, which I am sure was possible due to his life within the vicinity of Hogwarts and its impressive magical atmosphere."
"I know, Newt," Dumbledore tried to reassure the man, "I have asked Hagrid to be careful and have a tighter grip on his friend."
Harry couldn't keep quiet, "Er… Professor Dumbledore, this is the same Hagrid who tried to raise a dragon in his hut, sir."
"He raised a dragon at Hogwarts?" Newt thundered.
"No! I mean, he tried to. Voldemort conned him with a dragon egg to get information on Fluffy the Cerberus. Hagrid tried to hatch the egg and he did. We managed to convince him to let go of the little dragon before it becomes big and burns his hut down with him inside of it."
"What became of the dragon, Harry?" Dumbledore asked with a frown.
"We sent a letter to Ron's brother, Charlie, who works at the dragon preserve in Romania. He came with his mates on brooms and got Norbert out of here." He shuffled his feet, "That was the reason why we got the detention in the Forest. Me and Hermione got caught when we were returning from handing off the dragon."
"I see," Dumbledore said distractedly.
"You didn't know?" Scamander asked the Headmaster.
With a tired sigh, the Headmaster replied, "Despite what my students believe, I am not omnipotent. I do have to rely on my staff and the student representatives – the head students and the prefects, to make me aware of the problems within the school. I know there is a rumour that I use the portraits and the ghosts to spy for me, but that is as far from the truth as it can be. They are a part of these hallowed halls. They do not work on the whims of the school's headmaster. They will alert me if there is a danger present within its walls, but that is it."
"They didn't alert you of the basilisk?" Newt asked heatedly.
"Sadly, no. For the sole reason that the basilisk roamed about the corridors which are bereft of any portraits, and the only ghost who became aware of its presence – Sir Nicholas, has gone into a stasis trance due to the serpent's very magically potent stare."
"What about the wards? Don't they alert you of any intruders? I mean, you just heard that there were a bunch of people who flew in to take away a baby dragon, and the wards didn't alert you?"
"The wards are intent-based, Newt. They prevent anyone from entering if they have ill intent."
"That is a big pile of hippogriff dung. You've had Voldemort within your school for nearly a year. Are you telling me that Voldemort didn't have ill-intent in his heart?"
"Let us focus on the matter in hand, shall we? We have just observed young Harry being chased by Aragog's children. What did we actually see then?" Dumbledore diverted the discussion and from his posture, it was evident that he won't be entertaining further discussion on that particular subject. Harry kept his mouth shut and watched the two older wizards argue with each other. However, a small doubt crept in and burrowed home in his heart about the Headmaster's intentions.
Newt Scamander fumed while Harry tried to keep the conversation going, "Er… I was knocked out by that acromantula. Before I could get back on my feet, it came and bit me in the leg."
"Yes, but before the bite, you were lying under that tree. What do you remember about that?"
Harry tried to think hard of that night, "I dunno, sir. It's all a big blur now."
Dumbledore nodded in understanding, "That is quite possible, you were running away from danger and then got knocked off your feet and almost had a concussion. Let me refresh your memory a bit. When you lay under the tree dazedly, you were smacking your lips. That was quite unusual, don't you think?"
Harry scratched his head in thought, "I think I was thirsty, then suddenly I wasn't. Dunno why though." He shrugged his shoulder.
Dumbledore frowned and waved his wand. The scene around them shifted and once more they saw Harry being slammed by an acromantula. They followed his flight path to the spot where he had crashed down. They could see quite clearly that Harry was trying to shake off the dizziness but also he licked his lips as if he just sipped his favourite beverage. Dumbledore once more prompted the memory to turn back for a bit and they once again saw Harry's travel through the air and crash against the tree trunk. This time, they paid close attention and saw dew that collected on the leaves and small branches of the underbrush, trickling down into the boy's mouth and the semi-conscious boy gulped down the little amount of nature's nectar. Letting out a quiet hum, Dumbledore straightened up.
"Untouched dewdrops." He softly said.
"I am sorry?" Harry wasn't sure what his Headmaster meant by those words.
"Tell me, dear boy, am I right to assume by her absence, this memory is after Miss Granger's petrification?"
Harry scrunched his face as memories of Hermione's unresponsive body lying still on the hospital bed rushed to the forefront of his mind.
"Yes sir. I think it was a day or two after she was petrified when we came here for a visit with Hagrid."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, "And did you and the younger Mr Weasley also consume the Polyjuice potion at the same time as her?"
Harry snapped his head towards the older wizard, he tried to respond to his question but he wasn't able to form any coherent word.
"I hope you understand that Madame Pomfrey was not so easily deceived by such a weak excuse that Ms Granger turned herself into a half-human half-cat by a miscast Transfiguration spell?"
"You know about that?" Harry whispered.
"Indeed, we do." Dumbledore didn't hide his smirk, "You will not be the first, or the last students to end up in the Hospital Wing because of disastrous results of potion related accidents. Professor Snape was quite wroth about it, by the way, but even he gave credit to your friend for her ability to brew such a complex potion in her Second Year."
Harry rubbed his hand over his head, "Yeah… She's scary brilliant."
Newt, by then, had calmed down somewhat and came forward to re-join the conversation.
"Don't forget, Headmaster, that Harry also had acromantula venom in his system after this incident."
"I have not, Newt. And I think I can form a proper theory about Harry's impossible burgeoning ability."
"Oh?"
"Yes, but that will have to wait. How many more memories do you have for us, Harry?"
"Oh, just two more, sir."
[TUP]
The next memory had the trio down at the Chamber of Secrets. They had just finished observing Harry's encounter with the Diary-Riddle and the subsequent battle with the basilisk. Dumbledore had the memory paused just as memory-Harry plunged the basilisk tooth into the diary and blew apart the Heir of Slytherin to smithereens. They watched as something vaporous left Harry's body, the same kind that did when he burned Quirrell. Harry frowned as he watched the black smoke like stuff emitted from his head. He didn't remember that happening before. Although, he was not paying attention. He shivered as he remembered the pain he felt from the basilisk poison, along with the despair filled acceptance of fate. The Headmaster resumed the memory once more.
"Obscurus!" Newt whispered as his eyes tracked the black cloud.
"I am afraid not, Newt," Dumbledore said calmly, although the twinkling of his eyes seemed to have gotten quite prominent.
"Headmaster, I know what an obscurus looks like. I have encountered them before. And from what I have seen today in Harry's memories, it does fit the image…"
"Be that as it may, rest assured it is not an obscurus. If you want, we can have this discussion in future, Newt." Dumbledore spoke with finality. But Newt Scamander was not someone to be dissuaded easily.
"But -"
"Later, Mr Scamander." The Headmaster's voice rang with steel in it.
"Very well," Newt's frown was back, "but we will have this discussion. Today."
The two older wizards kept their stares locked with each other in a silent battle of will which was broken by the youngest member's question.
"Um… what's an obscurus?"
"That is something you don't need to be concerned about right now, Harry. If you please, guide us through the rest of these memories."
"Not much left of those…" Harry muttered under his breath.
They watched as the Headmaster's familiar, Fawkes the phoenix, landed near Harry's head and cried a few tears at the wound on his arm. Then the gentle bird moved and shed a few more tears at the famous scar on Harry's forehead.
"Is that why the scar's been fainter for the past month? Because Fawkes healed it?" He murmured to himself as he rubbed his fingers over the now quite faded scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. Dumbledore was looking keenly at the scar, if one was to describe the Headmaster's expression, they'd say it was that of elation.
[TUP]
The last of the memories was the most recent one. It was of the day of Harry's escape from the Dursleys'. Though it didn't have anything to do with any creatures or a magical artefact, Dumbledore asked Harry's permission to view the memory.
They watched as Vernon's sister – Marge Dursley kept insulting both of Harry's parents. They understood how in the end, Harry had lost control of his emotions, and thus, his magic caused a storm within the Dursley household. The elder wizards weren't ready for the memory to be tinted in a greenish hue. And then there were voices, voices that rose higher than the noise of the miniature tornado created by the wild magic of an emotional youth.
Lily! It's him! Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off!
Avada Kadabra!
Harry, mama loves you! Dada loves you! Always remember!
No, not Harry! Take me instead!
Step aside, you silly girl!
No, kill me! Don't hurt my son! Spare him! Kill me!
Avada Kadabra!
Dumbledore never knew that the mental abuse of the Dursleys has dredged up repressed emotional trauma from Harry's past. To tell the truth, he had no idea that Harry could remember the events of that night. To hear one's loved ones' last words or their pleas –
"Headmaster!"
Newt's harsh whisper broke Dumbledore out of his reverie. He turned towards the man only to see him indicating by a sideways nod towards their youngest companion. Harry had gone pale. His eyes were shut and tears running down his cheeks. Furthermore, his hands were balled into fists and they were clenched so tight that the nails dug deep into his palms, making them bleed. Dumbledore hurriedly cancelled the memory.
Once the three were back at the Headmaster's office, Newt steered the numb youth to a seat. He forced Harry to hold his hands up and pried them open. He cast a healing charm on his palms while the Headmaster sent a mild cheering charm his way. After the first aid, the three sat in silence.
Nobody spoke for a long time. The office was quiet save for the various twittering odd silvery gadgets on the side table and the snoring portraits of the past heads of Hogwarts. Fawkes' perch was empty as the bird was out for a flight, probably.
"Harry," Dumbledore spoke again after being lost in thoughts for near about half an hour, "I think I have a fundamental idea about your situation."
Both of his students looked up at him with anticipation.