Harry awoke slowly, awareness creeping up on him as he returned to consciousness. The first thing that he noticed was that he was warm. His mind was still muddled, but he remembered the horrible cold of the chains. His magic also returned, flowing through him like a hot cup of tea on a cold day. He felt his body recover as his magic trickled back to him, and his mind grew aware as his power returned. He felt the cloak within him, and briefly allowed the calm peace of the Dark to comfort him before he opened his eyes.
He was in the hospital wing. He looked around the sterile, spartan space to get his bearings. He realized that there was a weight on the side of his bed and saw Hermione asleep in the chair next to him, her body half slumped over his as she rested her head on his leg and snored lightly. Her wild hair was splayed across the white sheets of the hospital bed and her face looked pinched and stressed, even in her sleep. She still wore her school uniform.
Harry looked around and realized that it was dark outside. He had no idea what time it was. He hoped that it was just the night after his encounter with Voldemort, but maybe he had lost multiple days. He thought back through his conversation with the Dark Lord, and the answers and new questions it had given him.
He needed to talk to Dumbledore.
But first, he needed to talk to his best friend. He felt bad for making her worry. Again. At least he had gone ahead and made Death "cough him back up like a hairball" himself rather than making Hermione do it. He wasn't sure that she would appreciate the reminder though.
He reached out and ran his hand gently through her hair. He liked her hair a lot. It refused to be tamed, distinct and wild just like she was, when she let her guard down. He let his magic flow again like he knew she enjoyed, forming a little bubble around his bed as she shifted and hummed in her sleep.
Harry gently shook her as she woke up, her golden eyes opening and staring at him with confusion before they widened with shock and recognition, and she lunged forward. She hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck. He hugged her back and held her against him as she started rapidly whispering.
"You're back! You're back, I was so worried. The Headmaster and Madam Pomphrey wouldn't tell me much of anything, but I heard them talking about you losing your magic or your soul and they said that you fought Voldemort! I can feel your magic again and I'm just so happy that you're alright." She took a deep breath. "What happened down there, Harry?"
So Harry told her. He told her everything, about using the Dark to bypass the protections, meeting and confronting the Dark Lord. He told her about the prophecy and about the ritual. He told her about Voldemort offering him a place at his side and his refusal. He told her about their battle and how outmatched he was, how Voldemort was toying with him until using the killing curse on him.
She stiffened against his shoulder as he got to that part, but he powered through.
He told her about the cloak and how he used it and his power to hide from Death. He told her that he heard her words in his soul while he was drowning in the Dark.
"I will always come back to you, Hermione. Even Death cannot keep me away, not anymore."
Finally, he told her of the gilded chains that bound him and the Dark Lord to the Mirror, and how Dumbledore was forced to let Voldemort escape in order to save him.
"It was always a trap, and I messed it up just by being there. If it was just Voldemort, then Dumbledore could have let the Mirror claim him without issue. Instead, he had to decide between ending us both, or neither. I'm happy that he didn't let the Mirror eat my soul, but…" Harry trailed off, unsure and wondering if he would do things differently if he could go back and try again. "I definitely need to talk to Dumbledore to fill in the gaps."
Hermione nodded. "You can't know what might have happened, Harry. Voldemort would have had a long time alone with the Mirror if you weren't there to stall him, and he may have had plenty of time to retrieve the stone and been long gone by the time Dumbledore arrived. He obviously planned this for a long time, so he must have specifically drawn the headmaster away or waited until just the right time to strike in order to give him as much time as possible with the Mirror. You can't beat yourself up for doing your best."
She sighed and leaned her head back against his shoulder. "You never know, maybe next time I'll be the one who gets to almost die, and you can pass out pining at my bedside hoping that I'll wake up again, hmmmm?" Hermione grinned weakly at him, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "That's really not funny." He said, smiling and laughing harder as she started to laugh too. "It's really not." She said through her giggles, trying to keep quiet so Madam Pomphrey didn't wake up and kick her out as they both dissolved into slightly hysterical laughter.
...
The light of morning came far too quickly. Hermione got up and, after another quick hug, promised to bring him breakfast later. As she left the hospital wing, the door opened to admit a familiar face. Dumbledore walked quietly into the room, smiling at Hermione before lowering himself into the now unoccupied chair beside Harry's bed.
"I think that you and I have a great many things to discuss, Mr. Potter." The headmaster's voice was grave as he met Harry's eyes over his half-moon spectacles.
"I think, after everything that happened yesterday, you can call me Harry, Headmaster."
"I appreciate that, Harry. And I think that after yesterday, you have very much earned the right to call me Albus." His eyes twinkled ever so slightly despite his serious expression.
"I appreciate that, Albus," Harry parroted in a mock somber tone. "I'm sorry for prematurely knocking the cheese off of your metaphorical mousetrap."
Albus chuckled. "Quite understandable. In return, I apologize for almost using said mousetrap to destroy your soul. Along with a great many other things, if you would hear me out."
Harry nodded. He had put many of the pieces together himself, but he wanted to hear it from the ancient Headmaster.
"Firstly, I must apologize for not approaching you sooner. I wanted to respect your desire for independence, but in the end, I may have done more harm than good. I wish for you to believe me that in this and all apologies to come, I acted with the best of intentions. It is a poor excuse for some of the things that I have done, but it is true." Albus sighed. "I am truly sorry for placing you in a home where you were not loved. I'm sorry that the sacrifice did not accomplish what I intended. I am sorry that I failed to protect you as you grew up." Albus closed his eyes briefly and paused.
"It doesn't change anything, but it may help you to know that I wouldn't trade my life for anyone's." Harry said softly. "I would not trade my power for an easy life, given the chance."
Albus opened his piercing blue eyes and met Harry's own emerald orbs. "I suppose not. In that, you may be stronger than I, Harry." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I have no right to ask, but it may be relevant. What did you see in the Mirror of Erised, Harry?"
Harry considered his options and decided on the truth. "I saw myself, and Hermione, aloft on wings of silver and gold. I saw us as powerful, free, and ascended. It was glorious, and it was horrifying. I still don't know what about it rang so wrong, but I assume it relates to Voldemort's mention of the wings." Harry cocked his head at the old man. "What do you see in the Mirror, Albus?"
Dumbledore froze momentarily, then sighed again. "I once had a sister, Harry. She too was both glorious and horrifying. Her magic was unchained, wild and terrible, and she could not control it. She killed our mother, and I was left responsible for her. I chafed under the yoke of that responsibility, and I made choices that I deeply regret. Choices that led to her death, the estrangement of my brother and my love, and possibly to the deaths of millions of people. Choices that I would trade, in exchange for an easy life. I see myself as I could have been, together with Arianna, Aberforth and Gelert, whole and unbroken once more." The headmaster's eyes now sparkled with unshed tears.
"Which leads me to another apology. While I avoided my responsibility to my sister, another powerful wizard and I pondered and searched for fragments of divinity. When I returned your father's cloak to you, I did not tell you of its true nature. I am sorry, Harry, for not telling you the truth sooner. I wished for you to learn about the cloak at your own pace, but in hindsight it may have been folly."
Harry's eyes widened. This wasn't where he thought the conversation would go.
Dumbledore slowly reached into his robes and pulled out the gnarled, knotted wand that Harry noticed while in chains.
"What do you feel when you touch this wand, Harry?"
Harry knew that Albus didn't mean touching it with his hand. He let his magic flow and touched the wand, letting his magic slide over the surface and-
The wand was as deep and endless as the cloak, but while his cloak's magic was an infinite calm sea of peaceful Dark, the wand was a boiling, churning miasma of black water. It screamed and writhed, hungry and straining to be free while also craving connection.
He asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence, so Death fashioned him one from the Elder Tree.
Harry gasped as he pulled his magic back and returned to himself. He looked up and met Dumbledore's gaze with wide eyes.
Albus nodded at him. "Yes Harry, the wand and the cloak are brothers, in a sense. Two of the three aspects of Death. You are the master of the Cloak of Invisibility, Death's own Shroud, which hides the bearer from Death itself. I am the master of the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, which can deliver Death to any foe, but will inevitably kill its master. And Voldemort…" His voice grew soft, laden with regret and many other emotions that Harry couldn't identify, "Tom Riddle is the master of the Resurrection Stone, that which breaks Death's own chains, and can return both its master and others from the Dark."
Harry stared at the old man in disbelief.
"This brings us back to the events of yesterday afternoon. The Mirror of Erised is an ancient creation with many faces. The most obvious is carved into its frame. It shows not your face, but your heart's desire. For most, this is all that it shows." Albus continued in a steady and somber tone while Harry listened attentively. "The Mirror holds another, greater purpose. It is a window into the soul, and for those who have been touched by the Divine, it allows them to see their potential, should they choose to shed their humanity."
"The process to free oneself of humanity is not absolute. It is ever changing and depends greatly on the circumstances and Others involved, but it is whispered that it requires great sacrifice. That is why the vision in the mirror is both wonderful and terrifying. Your soul knows that something of equal value must be sacrificed in order to attain such heights."
Harry now listened with rapturous attention.
"The Mirror holds a final, terrible purpose. For those who have been touched by the Others, those who are no longer bound by Death, it has the potential to remove their safeguards and end their souls directly. They do not move on; they do not receive absolution. They drown forever in the never-ending Dark. This is why I could not allow the Mirror to take you, Harry. Mere death I may have been able to justify, but the ruination of your soul… I could not allow it, even at the cost of inflicting Voldemort upon the world once more."
Harry nodded, trying to keep from flashing back to the horror of having his power stripped away, his connection to the cloak severed and his life drained from him by the chains of gold and silver Light.
"You were affected by the Mirror for two reasons. You are the master of the cloak, a fragment of divinity, and are hidden from the eyes of Death, as you found out yesterday. In addition to that, you are the bearer of the Mark of Sacrifice." Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Harry's forehead. "Voldemort aspired to ascend, to be winged as you saw in the Mirror. He found a tome that detailed the required ritual and explained the nature of sacrifice, but as he said yesterday, he made a grave error. The sacrifice of an enemy, of a prophesied vanquisher, could never fuel such a ritual. Voldemort was punished for his insolence, and you were allowed to live, but not without great cost."
"The Mark of Sacrifice opens the door for demons and all manner of evil to seep into this world. It draws demonic souls to it and allows them to infuse any dark creatures or monsters that can hold them. It twists them and recklessly throws them into your path, hoping to one day kill you and claim your soul as was intended in the ritual. It is the reason that you are being hunted."
Harry nodded again. He had suspected, especially after his little chat with Voldemort, but it was nice to finally have his questions answered.
"The Mark is also why I placed you with the Dursleys. Your mother somehow knew what was coming, and as Voldemort came for you, she willingly sacrificed her life in a very different sort of ritual. She ended her own life to grant you the only protection powerful enough to protect you from the demons of the Mark. The protections were fraying even as I found you on that terrible night ten years ago, and I determined that her blood magic could only be sustained while you lived in a house of your blood. I used her magic to erect the wards at Privet Drive, the last remaining home of your blood, and placed you there in hope that you would be safe."
Dumbledore's eyes glistened with tears once more.
"It is a poor excuse for what you have suffered, Harry, but at the time it felt like the only way to keep you safe. I am fully aware that it did not succeed as intended, and you grew up with both monsters and the disdain of your family. You never have to return there if you don't want to. If you choose to leave forever, the blood protections will fall, and there will be nowhere that is truly safe from your demons. You may stay at Hogwarts, and we will do our best, but no other ward can completely nullify the call of the Mark."
Harry considered his options and came to no solid conclusions. He would have to think about it later, when his head wasn't spinning with revelations.
"What about the prophecy?" Harry asked.
"Ah yes, the final piece to this tangled web. Before you were born, a seer descended from the line of Cassandra gave a True Prophecy that reads as such:
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies,
and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not,
and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
Dumbledore paused for a moment while Harry processed his statement.
"Prophecies are the very definition of a sword without a hilt, as liable to cut the wielder as they are an enemy. Prophecies only come in two varieties: True and False. If they are False, then they will lead you astray and are not worth considering. If they are True, then they will happen regardless of your actions as decreed by Fate and are not worth considering. Do not dwell on the prophecy, Harry. It is a description of events as they will happen and will only be clear once they are concluded."
Dumbledore leaned forwards and met Harry's gaze.
"This prophecy now serves one singular purpose. Voldemort does not know it in its entirety. He has only heard the first two lines. Until he knows what the rest of it says, he will be wary and cautious about escalating his bid for control of the world. Every minute that he devotes to learning the prophecy is a minute he does not devote to destroying and dominating the world. It will buy us time to find ways to unravel his safeguards and may be able to act as bait for Voldemort when the time comes."
Harry hummed in agreement. The prophecy was a bit concerning, but the headmaster was right that he would have been Voldemort's enemy regardless of its words. It did not have any useful information that was worth brooding over, but Voldemort didn't know that. Harry had a rogue thought that he hadn't even considered amongst the ongoing revelations.
"What about the Philosopher's Stone? Was it actually here?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes. I could not draw Voldemort to the trap with anything less than the real thing. We both know that a wizard of his caliber would be able to tell if I was faking. Nicolas Flamel and I agreed that it was worth the risk, and he allowed me to borrow it as bait. It was indeed within the mirror, and if anyone should desire to possess it, but not use it, they would have been able to acquire it. I expected my enchantment to hold and stall Voldemort for long enough to arrive and invoke the Mirror's failsafe, but he managed to pick the exact time that I may have been too late. The stone has now been returned to Nicolas, safe and sound. So, when all is said and done, I believe that you made the right choice. It is unfortunate that my trap failed and that you were forced into such perilous circumstances, but we cannot do battle with an enemy like Voldemort without taking risks."
Harry took several deep breaths. He finally had answers to all of his questions, and he wasn't sure where to go from here. It felt like he had been stumbling around in the dark for so long that his eyes needed time to adjust to the light.
"Can I… have some time, Albus? To think about what you've said. I'll tell you whether I plan to return to the Dursleys before the end of the year."
"Of course, Harry." Dumbledore said, rising smoothly from the chair, his eyes sparkling merrily. "I think that Miss Granger may spontaneously combust if we leave her waiting outside any longer as it is."
...
Harry stood at the train platform, staring at the iconic scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express. He wasn't entirely sure of his decision, but he felt that in the end he had to do what he wanted. He looked over the milling crowd of students and caught sight of Hermione walking back towards him, her trunk now stowed on the train.
He couldn't help but smile as she approached. "I have one last secret to tell you," he said in a very mock serious voice. She looked down at him curiously as she put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at him. It had taken a while, but he had eventually told her everything that he and Dumbledore had discussed. She was aghast when he referred to the headmaster as Albus. She was already on a warpath to research the nature of the Divine, the fragments, prophecies and anything else she could get her hands on. She was also terribly jealous that he was staying at Hogwarts over the summer.
"What more could there possibly be? You're already apparently part god or something. Are you part dragon as well?"
Harry chuckled. "No, even better. Over Christmas break, I was out running around the Black Lake and thought 'you know, I bet I could jump over the lake'. I could not, in fact, jump over the lake."
Hermione looked surprised for a second before she covered her mouth to contain her laughter. "And you…"
"Yes Hermione. I fell into the middle of the lake in December and had to swim to shore in approximately zero-degree water. Because I thought that I could leap half a mile, apparently."
Hermione lost it as her laughter echoed across the platform.
