CHAPTER 25 – MOMENTUM
"It's about time you decided to grace us with your presence," snarled Harry, his tone laced with peevish impatience and demanding authority. This departure from his usual demeanor was striking, as arrogance and imperiousness rarely defined him.
The very notion of questioning whether it was truly Harry seemed absurd in this dark, poorly lit room. The question lost its relevance; he simply was. The room itself held little significance beyond its size, inadequately illuminated by flickering lamps that added to the oppressive atmosphere, creating an air thick with smoke and an unmistakable sense of an earthly hell. A chair, towering and high-backed, gave an illusion of a throne, but such details were secondary—a mere impression, overshadowed by the dominating presence within.
The distant murmur of conversation hinted at life beyond, akin to the indistinct crash of waves upon a shore. Yet, the denizens of this shadowy place understood the repercussions of interrupting their lord and master. The titles "Lord" and "Master" lingered in thought but were hastily dismissed as inconsequential—an insignificant layer in the unfolding drama.
A figure emerged from the entrance, a Death Eater with a craggy, worn face and hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. His appearance, like everything else in this surreal environment, blurred and indistinct. The details of his features faded into the background, overshadowed by the urgency of the unfolding events.
"Your orders, my Lord?" the Death Eater inquired, his voice a low murmur that carried both obedience and trepidation. The air crackled with tension, punctuated only by the intermittent hiss of the lamps, casting eerie shadows across the room.
Harry's response was measured and deliberate, every word carrying the weight of authority. "The time for waiting is over. It's time to set our plans in motion," he declared, the command echoing through the dimly lit chamber. The looming sense of foreboding hinted at a cascade of events that would reshape the narrative, with each word serving as a catalyst for the impending darkness.
"The information you possess is far from inconsequential," Harry declared, his eyes narrowing with a mix of hope and anticipation.
The figure bowed, a gesture of submission that carried an apology. "I apologize, My Lord," he intoned with deference, "I was detained by Amelia Bones on a matter of DMLE business."
Harry fixed him with a sharp, penetrating gaze. "Is there anything of concern in her inquiries?" he questioned, the weight of his authority pressing on the figure before him.
The man straightened, his response delivered with a hint of disdain. "Auror budgets, My Lord," he snorted dismissively. "With Fudge still in control, the Auror department is floundering. Madam Bones is doing what she can with limited resources, but her success is modest at best."
A spark of satisfaction flickered in Harry's eyes, a fleeting acknowledgment that all was proceeding as planned. "Very well," he said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "I hope, at the very least, you have some news for me."
Regret shadowed the blond man's expression as he shook his head. "Unfortunately, My Lord, the news I bring is not favorable."
Leaning back in his high-backed chair, Harry regarded his subordinate with a touch of exasperation. The temptation lingered, as it always did—to mete out the fate reserved for those who faltered: pain, suffering, and humiliation. Yet, the moment hung in the balance, the decision deferred as Harry weighed the consequences of such a display of power. The air thickened with tension, hinting at the precarious balance between command and cruelty that defined the realm of darkness he presided over.
Still, Harry mused, it likely wasn't entirely the man's fault. He had been tasked with a specific mission to acquire information, and if the outcome wasn't in his favor, the blame hardly rested on the messenger. While object lessons in his realm were often meted out with ruthless efficiency, Harry recognized the need for reason behind their dispensation. For now, he chose restraint—a decision to listen and wait, reserving punishment for a later time, should it prove warranted.
"What have you discovered?" Harry inquired, his voice a low, measured growl that held both impatience and curiosity.
"The Hall of Prophecy is virtually undefended, My Lord," the Death Eater reported. "However, it doesn't need much defense, as the prophecy globes are protected by enchantments, making them untouchable by anyone but the subject of the contained prophecy."
Harry's brow furrowed, the gears in his mind turning. "And what kind of protections are we dealing with here?" he questioned further, his gaze piercing.
The Death Eater spread his arms in a gesture of helplessness. "I apologize, My Lord, but I couldn't extract more information. The Unspeakable I spoke with refused to elaborate, and I deemed it wise not to press."
"Undoubtedly," Harry murmured, acknowledging the strategic importance of his spies within the Ministry. The gravity of obtaining the entire prophecy was pressing, but the risk of exposing his servant amidst the Unspeakables was a precarious balance. "Tell me what you can."
"Only this," the Death Eater replied, a tinge of frustration in his voice. "The subject of the prophecy is the sole person capable of safely removing the orb. Anyone else attempting to do so would succumb to the enchantments, driven to madness."
"The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord," Harry mused aloud. Technically, the Dark Lord had been mentioned in the fragment of the prophecy he was aware of. Did that mean he had the ability to remove the orb himself, or was the subject the exclusive bearer of that right? The uncertainty lingered, an enigma within the shadows of his thoughts.
Calmness enveloped Harry like a protective cloak, a shield against the urgency of the unfolding revelation. Patience and prudence, he thought, were paramount. This matter demanded meticulous study and careful planning; rash decisions could trigger the magic guarding the prophecy orbs. Careful deliberation would be the key to success.
"If I may, My Lord," the Death Eater interjected, momentarily disrupting Harry's thoughts, "you have a servant in Azkaban who might possess the knowledge you seek."
"That matter does not concern you," Harry asserted, his tone unwavering. "Focus on the tasks I've entrusted to you; I do not wish for your cover at the Ministry to be compromised."
"Of course, My Lord," the Death Eater acquiesced.
"I think we must proceed under the assumption that I cannot touch the orb," Harry mused aloud, his words a thread of contemplation woven into the tapestry of his thoughts. "And if I cannot, then the only one who can is…"
Abruptly, Harry was yanked from his musings, jolting awake in a disoriented state. He surveyed his surroundings, finding his dorm mates still in the embrace of slumber, blankets cocooning their forms. The Scottish night outside the window remained impenetrably dark, suggesting a time not much later than two in the morning.
With a groan, Harry pulled himself upright, slumping on the bed with his face buried in his hands. The night had been nothing short of dreadful—fitful sleep, unsettling dreams of the Dark Lord's machinations, and now the abrupt awakening.
"What was Tom Riddle up to now?" Harry wondered, the events of his dream lingering like a disconcerting echo. The mention of a prophecy, impenetrable protections, and a plotting Dark Lord left him uneasy. If only he could have remained asleep a little longer, perhaps he could have gleaned more about Voldemort's plans. Frustration gnawed at him, a lingering residue of the elusive answers slipping through his grasp.
Sighing audibly, Harry cast a glance at his dorm mates, still wrapped in the comforting cocoon of sleep. Deciding that the urgency of his newfound knowledge could wait until a more reasonable hour, he settled back into his bed. The Headmaster needed to be informed of this latest development, but it hardly seemed critical enough to rouse Dumbledore from his slumber in the middle of the night.
Although the problem would have continued to churn in his mind, fatigue won over, and Harry succumbed once again to the beckoning embrace of sleep. This time, the rest, though still somewhat fitful and restless, was free from the intrusion of Dark Lords and their menacing minions.
The next morning, Harry slipped out of Gryffindor Tower before the stirrings of his friends. Saturdays often meant a more leisurely morning for most students, but with Hogsmeade beckoning, even the latest risers would eventually join the day. Harry wasn't intentionally avoiding his friends, but he was aware that his fatigued appearance might invite questions. Moreover, he wanted to discuss the unsettling dream with Dumbledore before deciding whether to share it with his companions. A bit of time with the Headmaster would also help him shake off the remnants of sleep and present a more composed front.
With a fair understanding of Dumbledore's habits, Harry found the venerable wizard in the Great Hall during breakfast. After grabbing a few bites to eat, he approached the Headmaster, politely requesting a few moments of his time. Soon enough, Harry found himself seated across the desk from Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office, recounting the events of the previous night.
As Harry's detailed account concluded, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled together in a pose of deep contemplation. A flicker of understanding passed over the Headmaster's face during Harry's explanation, though it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a thoughtful expression.
"What does it mean, sir?" Harry inquired, breaking the silence that hung in the room after the recounting of his experience.
Dumbledore seemed to start, as if momentarily forgetting Harry's presence, and then smiled in his characteristic genial manner, attempting to put the young wizard at ease. "The Hall of Prophecy, you say. And Voldemort was seeking information about one of the prophecies."
"Yes," Harry affirmed, "but he seemed to believe that one of the prophecies was about him as well. If it was about him, wouldn't he be able to remove it?"
The Headmaster's response was patient and measured. "No, Harry. Though that is a very astute question. Being mentioned in a prophecy does not necessarily make the prophecy about the person mentioned. If the prophecy that the Dark Lord is interested in specifically pertains to someone else and merely mentions Voldemort, he would not have the ability to remove it."
"He did express caution," Harry added, his thoughts weaving through the fragments of the dream. "He mentioned needing to study it further before taking any action. It seemed like he believed there was someone else who could remove it, but I woke up before I could find out who that might be."
Dumbledore leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, fixing Harry with an intense gaze that made the young wizard feel a tad uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "Harry, the Dark Lord may possess information about a specific prophecy, but you must not dwell on it. It's commendable that you've shared this information with me. I'll make every effort to discover what he's seeking and, if necessary, thwart his plans."
However, Dumbledore's tone shifted to one of stern warning as he continued, "I must caution you not to take anything you hear through your connection with the Dark Lord at face value. If he becomes aware of the fact that you've visited him in your dreams, he might attempt to deceive you, hoping to provoke a rash response. This is a potential vulnerability, Harry, and it's not something to be taken lightly. You must not react to him in any way or give him reason to suspect that you can hear his thoughts. Above all, you must not be lured into falling into a trap. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied automatically, absorbing the gravity of Dumbledore's warning.
"Good," Dumbledore said, leaning back once again, his eyes losing focus as he concentrated on the weight of the situation. "Remember that you are still young, and while you exhibit great maturity, there are aspects of the world you have yet to discover. Come to me with any questions you may have, and I'll do my best to provide answers."
The Headmaster's gaze refocused on Harry, making him squirm slightly under the scrutiny. "For now, I believe this is something you need not concern yourself with. Let me handle it." The reassurance in Dumbledore's words offered a measure of solace, a reminder that, despite the dark shadows encroaching on Harry's dreams, there was a guiding hand to navigate through the uncertainty.
"I understand," Harry replied, a sense of resignation in his tone. There was indeed little he could do, and he placed his trust in Dumbledore's guidance, confident that the Headmaster would not lead him astray.
Dumbledore's next question shifted the conversation. "I do have one more question for you. Is this the first such occurrence of seeing Voldemort in your dreams?"
Harry felt a twinge of embarrassment, lowering his gaze. "No, sir."
To his surprise, Dumbledore's countenance softened, understanding etched in his expression. "I understand it can be difficult, Harry. Wanting to be responsible for your own life and feeling like you have some control. I was not unlike you as a young man."
A shared understanding passed between them, a recognition of the complexities that came with facing the Dark Lord and his minions. Dumbledore continued, "However, as we deal with the Dark Lord and his followers, I would ask you to trust me and inform me of any other instances where you overhear his thoughts. Not only can this provide critical information, but, as I mentioned, I am concerned that Voldemort may try to exploit this apparent connection for his own purposes."
"It doesn't happen very often," Harry hastened to explain. "Only on occasion, and usually when he's particularly angry or happy."
"That may very well be," Dumbledore acknowledged. "But he may become aware of you and seek to use it to his advantage. Now," he continued in a kindly voice, "why don't you tell me about these other experiences?" The gentle encouragement prompted Harry to share the details of the sporadic instances when he found himself privy to the Dark Lord's emotions and thoughts.
The next hour unfolded in earnest conversation, with Harry recounting the sporadic instances of encountering Voldemort in his dreams. Dumbledore listened attentively, offering guidance and advice throughout. The Headmaster particularly honed in on the dream from the previous year, paying close attention to the enigmatic figures that had appeared. However, Dumbledore refrained from making explicit comments about the meaning behind those visions. The discussion proved somewhat draining for Harry, leaving him even more fatigued by the time he finished. Yet, there was a sense of relief in unburdening himself to a sympathetic ear.
As the conversation drew to a close, Dumbledore dismissed Harry, advising him to enjoy his day in Hogsmeade with friends. Despite the reassurance, the Headmaster reiterated the importance of approaching him whenever similar experiences occurred in the future. "Remember, Harry, always come to see me if you find Voldemort in your dreams. There may come a time when we need to take action to sever this link between you and Voldemort. Let me ponder on it for a while."
"I understand, sir," Harry dutifully replied before standing and exiting the office.
Reflecting on the encounter, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration. Dumbledore, he mused, played his cards very close to the vest. It wasn't that he doubted the Headmaster—Dumbledore had fought the good fight for longer than Harry had been alive, deserving respect. Rather, Harry wished to be regarded more as an adult, worthy of trust and inclusion in such critical decisions.
Sighing heavily, Harry wandered through the hallways of the school, lost in contemplation about his dream and the conversation with Dumbledore. He avoided returning to the common room until much later, brushing off all inquiries about his whereabouts or activities. He needed time to process everything in his own mind before he felt ready to discuss any of it. When he finally rejoined his friends, he insisted on an immediate departure for Hogsmeade, a convenient excuse to sidestep questions he wasn't prepared to answer.
Meanwhile, in another part of the country, Jean-Sebastian Delacour sat in the study of the Ambassador's Mansion, scowling at the swirling complexities of the political landscape. The previous week had been tumultuous, marked by the departure of the controversial woman from Hogwarts. Despite her absence, the situation in England, especially with the apparent resurgence of Voldemort, continued to deteriorate. Delacour was certain that the Death Eaters were gearing up for an impending conflict, yet the Minister remained oblivious, choosing to believe Voldemort was dead and gone.
The mere thought of Fudge fueled the ambassador's rage, prompting him to clench his hands into fists. To Fudge, Voldemort's return was a ludicrous notion; the Dark Lord had been conclusively proven dead, according to the Minister. The stories propagated by Dumbledore and Potter were dismissed as scare tactics aimed at destabilizing the government and seizing more power. Fudge's paranoia knew no bounds, and the fact that one of the accused power-seekers was merely fifteen years old did not deter him. His obstinate denial of the potential threat infuriated Jean-Sebastian.
Compounding the frustration was Fudge's refusal to take any proactive measures even if there was a sliver of truth in Harry's claims. Investigations were nonexistent, the Auror budget remained unchanged, and an unsettling complacency permeated the government. Jean-Sebastian seethed at the missed opportunity for a preemptive strike against Voldemort and his forces. The head start Fudge provided would inevitably lead to hardship, pain, and death in the face of an impending and avoidable conflict.
The volatile political climate in England weighed heavily on Jean-Sebastian Delacour, and his primary concern rested on the safety of his family in this tumultuous environment. He fervently wished that Apolline and Gabrielle had remained in France, where the castle provided a safer haven. Despite his numerous appeals for their return, Apolline adamantly refused to consider leaving, insisting that she wouldn't run from the dangers her husband and eldest daughter faced. While she offered to send Gabrielle back, she remained resolute about staying herself.
Fleur, on the other hand, elicited only mild concern from Jean-Sebastian. As an adult and a skilled witch, she had her own competence and the support of Harry and their friends at Hogwarts, not to mention the formidable protective wards surrounding the castle. Despite the apparent security of the mansion and the presence of highly trained Aurors assigned to their protection, Jean-Sebastian couldn't shake the worry that it might not be enough should Voldemort perceive the Delacours as a significant threat to his plans.
Interrupting his thoughts, the fireplace in Jean-Sebastian's study flared, and Dumbledore's face materialized in the green flames. "Ah, Jean-Sebastian, may I step through?" the Headmaster inquired.
Granting his consent with a less-than-charitable thought that Dumbledore only appeared for unpleasant news, Jean-Sebastian allowed the Headmaster to step through the fireplace. Dumbledore wasted no time with pleasantries.
"There has been a development," Dumbledore declared without preamble, and Jean-Sebastian wearily gestured for his guest to take a seat. Seating himself, he massaged his temples and asked, "Can I assume that this news of yours is not something I would wish to hear?"
A chuckle met his cynical remark, and Jean-Sebastian glared at the Headmaster. "This negativity is most unbecoming, Jean-Sebastian," Dumbledore admonished. "Surely the situation is not that dire yet."
"Try talking some sense into Fudge," Jean-Sebastian retorted with a growl. "His willful obtuseness and his inability to see reason is amazing and infuriating all at once."
"But you forget, Jean-Sebastian," Dumbledore replied with an amused glint in his eyes, "I have been dealing with the man virtually the entire time I've been Chief Warlock. I assure you that I am very familiar with the Minister's quirks."
"However, that is not why I am here today," Dumbledore continued, his tone taking on a more solemn and serious quality. "Harry came to me this morning with a matter of some concern. I believe you should know of it."
Dumbledore went on to detail the entirety of his conversation with Harry, presenting the information concisely and without embellishment. Although the notion of an insane despot inhabiting Harry's thoughts made Jean-Sebastian feel uneasy, he focused on absorbing what Dumbledore had to say. Harry, by Dumbledore's account, seemed more accustomed to the Dark Lord's interference in his life. While Harry expressed concern about the insight gained that morning, he likely accepted the situation more readily than Jean-Sebastian could in the present moment.
"So, he's after the prophecy."
"I believe he is," Dumbledore confirmed. "It was inevitable that he would eventually turn his attention to it. By now, he must have realized that he does not have the prophecy in its entirety. I attribute his less than aggressive actions since his return to that lack of knowledge. His failure to kill Harry at the end of the third task must have made him more cautious."
Leaning back in his chair, Jean-Sebastian fixed the Headmaster with a scrutinizing gaze, wondering what Dumbledore knew but chose not to divulge at the moment. While the Dark Lord's pursuit of the missing part of the prophecy was disconcerting, Jean-Sebastian found himself more troubled by the fact that Harry could witness Voldemort in his dreams. This was the aspect that commanded his attention.
"Why was Harry able to see Voldemort at all?" Jean-Sebastian inquired. "That is the more troublesome development in my mind."
"I am uncertain," Dumbledore admitted, his brow furrowing. "It appears as though Harry has some sort of... connection, for want of a better term, with the Dark Lord. He has always exhibited strong reactions when in proximity to Voldemort, though until this morning, I was unaware that he has seen Voldemort in his dreams. The silver lining in all of this is that Voldemort does not seem to suspect that this connection exists."
Jean-Sebastian scowled. "That's hardly a silver lining. He could become aware of it at any time."
"Perhaps. If Harry does nothing to betray himself and refrains from trying to exploit the connection while awake, the Dark Lord should remain oblivious, and the situation should remain as it is."
"Do you think he should be taught Occlumency to close the link?" Jean-Sebastian asked after a moment's thought.
Dumbledore pursed his lips, his eyes unfocusing for a moment. "Not at this time," he answered at length. "For now, Voldemort does not seem to be aware of it. If Harry were to learn Occlumency, he may sense a block he was not aware existed. Occlumency training may become necessary, but for now, I suggest we leave it be."
"And what of the globe? Is it safe?"
"For the time being, the globes are protected. Voldemort's source was correct in that the globes are shielded by extensive enchantments, preventing him from simply removing them."
"So Voldemort cannot touch them?"
"In a word—no," affirmed Dumbledore. "It is not enough for a person to simply be mentioned in the prophecy. The prophecy has to be about them, or they will not be able to remove it.
"In the future, I cannot say. It is possible that Voldemort may find some way to circumvent the protections. However, I do not believe we need to concern ourselves with that eventuality for some months. It would take him a great deal of time to do so, and it's not as though he can move about freely in the Ministry."
Absorbing all that Dumbledore had revealed, Jean-Sebastian contemplated the situation. Harry was increasingly entangled in the Dark Lord's web, and events were spiraling toward an inevitable confrontation. Armed with the knowledge of the prophecy and Harry's ultimate fate in the impending struggle, Jean-Sebastian became convinced that they needed to prepare for the looming showdown.
Beyond everything discussed, Jean-Sebastian felt a steadily growing conviction that Harry deserved to know the full extent of what was happening in his life. He should be informed.
"Headmaster," Jean-Sebastian began slowly and deliberately, "I think that with this most recent development, Harry needs to be told of the prophecy."
Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore scratched his beard in contemplation. "I believe that it is still too early to burden Harry with this knowledge, Jean-Sebastian. He is still young—too young to carry the weight of the entire world upon his shoulders."
"I think you may be putting a little too much stock in this prophecy, Albus."
"While I would have, at one time, tended to agree with you, I firmly believe in the accuracy of true prophecy. I would like to give Harry a little more time to mature and grow before sharing this information with him."
Jean-Sebastian fell silent for several moments, reflecting on Dumbledore's words. It was undoubtedly a significant burden for a young man, but he also knew in his heart that keeping it from Harry was not only unfair but perhaps even dangerous. The feeling was hard to place, but it felt like the truth.
"Dumbledore, I understand you have Harry's best interests at heart," Jean-Sebastian spoke in a very soft tone of voice. "But I believe he needs to know. He is mature and competent, and he deserves to know the truth of why this insane wizard has fixated upon him."
"During the balmy days of summer, I had solemnly pledged to both Harry and my daughter that I would be utterly transparent with them, an oath I promptly shattered upon learning of the prophecy you disclosed to me. The weight of my broken promise loomed heavily on my conscience, compelling me to rectify the breach without further delay," Jean-Sebastian confessed, his voice laden with regret.
"I understand the gravity of the situation," Dumbledore responded, his expression betraying a sense of weariness. "However, I implore you to exercise patience. We must carefully choose the opportune moment to reveal the truth to Harry. I wish to spare him unnecessary burdens."
Acknowledging Dumbledore's counsel with a resigned nod, Jean-Sebastian conceded, "Very well. But the sands in the hourglass are dwindling, and soon we'll have no choice but to divulge the information. If you hesitate, I won't."
Their conversation reached an uneasy conclusion. Dumbledore bid Jean-Sebastian farewell, departing for Hogwarts and leaving Jean-Sebastian to grapple with his thoughts in solitude. The burden of the impending revelation hung over him like a storm cloud, casting a shadow on the newfound knowledge.
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