CHAPTER 42 – INSISTENT IMPETUS
The morning sunlight streamed through the ornate windows of the Ambassador's Mansion, casting a warm glow on the opulent furnishings. Jean-Sebastian Delacour, flanked by his elegant wife Apolline and the rugged Sirius Black, found himself immersed in a profound determination to unravel the enigma surrounding Harry Potter. The events of the previous night had left an indelible mark on their collective consciousness, and Jean-Sebastian knew that the time for passive observation had passed.
After Harry's unsettling vision had sent him back to his bed, Jean-Sebastian wasted no time. He swiftly initiated a Floo call to Sirius at his residence in France, and with the aid of the private Floo connection discreetly embedded in the mansion, Sirius emerged in England. The trio convened, exchanging worried glances and hushed words as they delved into the intricacies of the situation that had woven itself around Harry like an insidious web.
As the night unfolded, discussions flowed deep into the early hours, the trio unanimously agreeing that their best chance for understanding lay in seeking Dumbledore's counsel. It was a decision tinged with both urgency and apprehension. Dumbledore, with his inscrutable wisdom, held the key to the answers they desperately sought.
Morning light found them prepared to embark on a journey to Hogwarts, the venerable school that had been a cornerstone in the lives of many. Yet, as they readied themselves, Jean-Sebastian's mind was a tempest of concerns and inquiries. How would Dumbledore receive their inquiries? The Headmaster was known for his guarded secrets, and prying them from him required finesse.
A particular fragment of the previous evening's conversation lingered in Jean-Sebastian's thoughts, echoing Sirius's weary warning. "You know Dumbledore will not give up his secrets lightly," Sirius had remarked, weariness etched across his face as he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. It was a sobering reminder of the challenges that lay ahead, a formidable adversary in the form of the venerable Headmaster.
The French Ambassador couldn't shake the feeling that their quest for answers would demand more than mere determination. It required a delicate dance of words, a strategic approach to unlock the vault of Dumbledore's knowledge. The mansion's grandeur seemed to dim in comparison to the weight of the task ahead, and Jean-Sebastian steeled himself for the intricate negotiations that awaited them at Hogwarts.
Jean-Sebastian's gaze bore into Sirius, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and disbelief. "He would attempt to conceal such a critical matter from us, Harry's guardians?" The question hung in the air, weighted with a sense of betrayal that gnawed at the French Ambassador's resolve.
Sirius, ever nonchalant, replied with a casual shrug, "It's just the way he operates. During the first war with Voldemort, he held his cards close to his vest."
A furrow formed on Jean-Sebastian's brow. "You mean to say you would fight for a man who didn't trust you with the knowledge crucial for effective combat?"
Sirius, while not challenging Jean-Sebastian's assertion, sought to provide some context. "Dumbledore was the only one taking real action. It was a dark time. Trust was a luxury we couldn't afford. You never knew who might be secretly aligned with Voldemort, and the Ministry was losing ground. Dumbledore shared information strategically, helping us combat the Death Eaters, but the most crucial secrets, he kept to himself."
Jean-Sebastian pondered Sirius's words, his disapproval evident. A staunch advocate for transparency, he found the idea of withholding vital information unfathomable. The belief that people needed to know the full extent of what they were fighting against and for was ingrained in his principles.
The weight of the decision ahead pressed upon him. Perhaps, he mused, it would be wiser to relocate his family, including Harry, back to France for their protection. The events of the previous evening had intensified the urgency of such considerations. He resolved to postpone any conclusive decisions until after their conversation with Dumbledore, but the prospect of the Headmaster's reluctance to divulge critical details loomed large in his mind, pushing him closer to a pivotal choice.
The grandeur of the Ambassador's Mansion seemed to pale against the looming uncertainties, and Jean-Sebastian steeled himself for the potential fallout of their meeting with the enigmatic Headmaster at Hogwarts.
Sirius interjected, his voice cutting through the tense air, "You mustn't mistake Dumbledore for evil, or believe that he purposefully hides information others desperately need. His reticence, at times, can be infuriating, but I believe there's a method to his madness. He keeps certain things to himself because they're paramount to our cause, safeguarding our efforts and preventing the enemy from gaining an upper hand. It's just that sometimes, he takes it to extremes."
Jean-Sebastian's response was resolute, his tone unwavering. "Well, he'd better be ready to share with us."
A low, ominous tone entered Apolline's voice as she declared, "If he doesn't, he'll have me to contend with."
The gravity of the situation began to settle in for Jean-Sebastian. Dumbledore had fought against the encroaching darkness for a substantial part of his life, emerging victorious more often than not. Yet, the Ambassador struggled to reconcile the necessity of secrecy with his own principles. The mantle of leadership he bore, with followers who had relocated from France, placed their trust in him. The weight of responsibility extended beyond his immediate family to those under his employ at the manor.
In particular, Harry's well-being occupied a prominent place in Jean-Sebastian's concerns. The young man had proven himself admirable, and the French Ambassador was genuinely invested in securing the best possible future for him. If Dumbledore harbored secrets that could impact Harry's fate, Jean-Sebastian asserted his right to know. He refused to allow Dumbledore to cling to secrets like a desperate man at sea clinging to a branch. Effectively combating the encroaching darkness demanded an open exchange of all pertinent information.
Amidst these thoughts, a pang of guilt crept into Jean-Sebastian's consciousness. He acknowledged the inconsistency in his own actions, having kept the prophecy from Harry—a promise of openness made only to be shrouded in secrecy. The need for rectification weighed heavily on his mind. As they approached their rendezvous with Dumbledore, Jean-Sebastian resolved to ensure transparency, not only for the sake of Harry but for the collective well-being of those who had placed their trust in him.
After a brief Floo call, Jean-Sebastian and Sirius materialized in Dumbledore's office. The decision to leave Apolline at home had been a strategic one—Jean-Sebastian, aware of his wife's fiery Veela temper, doubted her ability to remain composed in the face of the revelations he anticipated from Dumbledore.
"Jean-Sebastian, Sirius," Dumbledore greeted them as they emerged from the Floo network. The venerable Headmaster bore the unmistakable signs of a sleepless night, and Jean-Sebastian suspected the weight of the news Harry had conveyed to him, coupled with Dumbledore's efforts to contain the situation, had taken its toll. "I cannot say that I'm surprised to see you here this morning."
"Nor should you be," Jean-Sebastian retorted. "Sirius and I are deeply troubled by the situation with Harry. We need to know what is happening. The location Harry described in his vision sounded eerily like the Hall of Prophecy. Can we assume that his dream is related to the prophecy you mentioned last summer?"
Dumbledore nodded, his gaze holding a depth of weariness. "I suspect it is. Nagini appears to have been a scout, stumbling upon Arthur by chance."
Jean-Sebastian's mind whirred with questions, his concern for Harry mingling with a simmering frustration. "Why the secrecy, Dumbledore? This involves not only Harry but all those who have stood by me, my family, and those under my employ. We need to understand the full extent of the threat. Keeping us in the dark jeopardizes our ability to protect ourselves and those we care about."
Sirius, though no stranger to Dumbledore's penchant for secrecy, added his voice to Jean-Sebastian's plea. "We're not asking for unnecessary details, but the basic information is vital. Harry deserves to know, and so do we."
The atmosphere in Dumbledore's office crackled with tension as the trio stood at the precipice of revelations that would shape their understanding of the challenges ahead. The delicate dance between transparency and guarded wisdom hung palpably in the air.
Sirius couldn't contain his curiosity. "But why was Arthur there in the first place?"
Dumbledore met Sirius's inquiry with a measured response. "Members of the Order have been keeping a watchful eye on the hall. While I wasn't aware of Arthur's specific visit last night, it seems he was working late, trying to complete some tasks before the holidays. Checking on the Hall of Prophecy seemed like a prudent, routine measure to ensure nothing was awry. It was a simple twist of fate that Nagini happened to be there at the same time."
A shared glance between Sirius and Jean-Sebastian spoke volumes. "He's after the prophecy?" Sirius pressed.
"I can only assume," Dumbledore affirmed. "Realizing he lacks the complete text, Voldemort seems determined to acquire it. Given Harry's history of defying him, Voldemort may find it challenging to accept that a mere teenager has repeatedly thwarted his plans."
Jean-Sebastian's concern deepened. "Is the prophecy in immediate danger? Should we bring Harry to retrieve it?"
Dumbledore's response held a note of caution. "I would advise against that for now. Nagini appears to have served as an advance scout, and the protective enchantments surrounding the prophecy orbs are ancient and formidable. It will take time for Voldemort to circumvent them. Besides, bringing Harry to the Hall of Prophecy could draw unwanted attention, especially from certain elements within the Ministry who remain unaware of the prophecy. It's in our best interest to keep it that way, at least for the time being."
As the trio grappled with the complexity of their situation, the delicate balance between action and restraint became ever more apparent. The revelation that Voldemort sought the prophecy intensified their need for vigilance and strategic planning, laying the groundwork for the challenges that awaited them in the shadows.
The unspoken understanding lingered in the air as Dumbledore delicately alluded to the need to keep the existence of the prophecy concealed, particularly from individuals like Fudge. Jean-Sebastian couldn't fault the Headmaster's logic—keeping certain truths guarded was essential. While the prophecy remained a looming concern, it wasn't the crux of the matter that had brought them here.
"Very well," conceded Jean-Sebastian, casting a sidelong glance at Sirius, who nodded in agreement. "That wasn't our primary concern this morning, although we appreciate being kept informed about the prophecy. Our focus lies on a more pressing issue. Harry not only dreamt the attack but has seen Voldemort in his dreams on multiple occasions. We need an explanation for this troubling phenomenon."
Dumbledore, a master of evasive rhetoric, offered a general perspective. "It's not unheard of for powerful wizards to catch glimpses of future events. Harry may possess a slight gift of prescience, allowing him to witness what he did."
Jean-Sebastian, growing impatient with Dumbledore's carefully chosen words, cut through the ambiguity. "You're correct, but that doesn't align with what happened in this case. Harry explicitly stated that he not only witnessed the attack but saw it from Nagini's perspective. There was a time when he struggled to distinguish himself from the snake. That goes beyond mere prescience, Dumbledore, and his other encounters with Voldemort don't fit into your explanation either."
The urgency in Jean-Sebastian's voice echoed his growing concern for Harry's well-being. The enigma surrounding Harry's dreams and their connection to Voldemort demanded a clearer, more satisfactory explanation—one that Dumbledore seemed hesitant to provide. As the air in the room thickened with unresolved tension, the truth they sought remained elusive.
The weariness etched on Dumbledore's face became more pronounced as he sighed, acknowledging the inevitability of the discussion he was reluctant to have. Leaning back in his chair, he wearily rubbed his eyes, replacing his half-moon glasses before meeting their expectant gazes.
"It seems that Harry has a... connection, for lack of a better term, to Voldemort," Dumbledore admitted, choosing his words carefully.
Sirius seized on a specific detail. "And what does the snake have to do with it?"
"Nagini is Voldemort's familiar," Dumbledore explained, "and as such, if Harry has a connection with the dark lord, then logically, that connection extends to the familiar."
There was a discernible hesitation in Dumbledore's response, a subtle nuance that Jean-Sebastian, with a sense of suspicion, recognized. Not one to be easily deterred, he pressed for more information. "Would you care to speculate on exactly what this connection is?"
Dumbledore, in his characteristic evasiveness, offered a vague reply. "I'm not certain it would be prudent to do so at this time."
Jean-Sebastian's patience waned, and he shot a pointed glare at the Headmaster. He could sense that Sirius shared the same frustration. "Headmaster," Jean-Sebastian began, his tone deliberate and determined, "Sirius and I are entrusted with Harry's welfare, and we cannot fulfill those responsibilities effectively with incomplete information. If you know something, I insist you tell us."
The room hung in tense anticipation as Jean-Sebastian, unyielding in his pursuit of answers, confronted Dumbledore with the expectation of transparency. The revelations surrounding Harry's connection to Voldemort demanded a level of clarity that Dumbledore seemed hesitant to provide.
The unexpected look from Dumbledore spoke volumes, a blend of frustration and a hint of resignation. It was apparent that Jean-Sebastian and Sirius had, in their own way, compelled the venerable wizard to share his secrets. Dumbledore, accustomed to holding his cards close, now found himself navigating uncharted territory with individuals who refused to blindly follow.
Drawing his wand from the depths of his robes, Dumbledore cast a series of spells in quick succession. Jean-Sebastian observed with a measure of awe as a complex web of privacy charms, imperturbable spells, and protective wards enveloped the room. It was a testament to the gravity of the information about to be shared—the Headmaster was taking extraordinary precautions.
"I can tell you what I know," Dumbledore began, his tone resolute, "but much of it remains speculative at this point. If my suspicions are correct, this knowledge could be the linchpin between victory and defeat. If Voldemort were to uncover what I suspect, countering his actions would become significantly more challenging. I need absolute assurance that you will not disclose this information to anyone."
Jean-Sebastian turned to Sirius, gauging his acceptance of the condition, before returning his attention to the Headmaster. With a measured nod, he provided the assurance, but not without a caveat.
"I will agree with you given one condition," Jean-Sebastian asserted, noting the Headmaster's stern disapproval—an expression unfamiliar to someone unaccustomed to contradiction.
Dumbledore, unyielding in his stance, declared, "If I do not accept your terms, then I will not share anything with you. This matter is that important, and it is already against my better judgment to be telling you of it, let alone anyone else."
Sirius, breaking his silence up to that point, interjected, "Harry needs to know, Albus. And before you start on how he's still just a child and cannot be burdened with the responsibility, keep in mind that he has not been a child for a very long time. He's much more mature than either James or I was at his age, and his experiences and other recent events have greatly accelerated his growth."
The belligerence drained from Dumbledore, leaving behind an appearance of weariness and age. "I was afraid you would insist on this."
Dumbledore settled into his chair, his gaze seemingly fixed on nothing. Jean-Sebastian sensed the weight of consideration and the internal turmoil the Headmaster was grappling with. The gravity of the situation was apparent, and he sympathized with Dumbledore's caution. Despite the lack of information about the impending revelation, Jean-Sebastian felt an unwavering conviction—Harry needed to be privy to whatever knowledge Dumbledore was withholding.
As the room hung in tense anticipation, the intricate dance of trust and secrecy continued, reaching a crucial juncture that would shape the destiny of those involved.
Jean-Sebastian exchanged a glance with Sirius, who remained silent but shook his head slightly. Respectful of Sirius's insight into Dumbledore, Jean-Sebastian deferred, allowing the older man to process his thoughts.
At last, Dumbledore seemed to reach a resolution, though his demeanor reflected his reluctance. With solemn gravity, he refocused his attention on them. "I will share what I know, and I agree that Harry should be informed. However, once you understand the information, you may align with my view that it's best kept from him."
"We'll see," Jean-Sebastian replied firmly, unconvinced. "But I doubt it."
Dumbledore continued, his expression grave. "You are aware that anything you disclose to Harry will likely be shared with your daughter and Miss Granger?"
"I suspect as much," Jean-Sebastian admitted. "Yet, I believe Fleur can keep it to herself, and Miss Granger strikes me as a clever young woman devoted entirely to Harry. If his well-being depends on secrecy, I trust both of them implicitly to maintain it."
Sirius chimed in with a laugh of agreement. "Absolutely. Hermione's loyalty to Harry is unwavering. If there are any secrets that could harm him, she'll guard them as fiercely as you or I. And judging from Harry's letters, his bond with Fleur seems to be approaching the same level. You've got nothing to worry about with either of them."
The trust in Fleur and Hermione's discretion regarding Harry's welfare resonated within the room. Despite Dumbledore's apprehensions, Jean-Sebastian and Sirius were resolute in their faith in the loyalty and discretion of these two young women, who were as devoted to Harry as anyone could be. The conversation, shrouded in secrecy, ventured deeper into realms that would soon shape the fate of those entwined in the unfolding events.
A frown creased Jean-Sebastian's brow as he considered Sirius's words. They uncomfortably echoed some observations he had made of Harry and Hermione during the previous summer and occasional glimpses since their departure for Hogwarts. The closeness between the two had been evident from the start, particularly when Sirius had broached the subject of the betrothal. Jean-Sebastian couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more to their relationship than mere friendship.
His mind briefly revisited the conversation with Sirius about Harry's romantic attachments. While Sirius had assured him that Harry was unattached, Jean-Sebastian had found the response somewhat too dismissive. The feeling lingered as he observed Harry's interactions with the young witch. Was there an undercurrent of something more than friendship between them?
Yet, Jean-Sebastian decided that it ultimately didn't matter. Harry was more than capable of navigating his own path in life. While marriage to Fleur brought its own unique challenges, and Jean-Sebastian was acutely aware of them, he understood that Harry might choose a different course, especially if there were genuine feelings involved. It was not his place to interfere—Harry was trustworthy, and Fleur was more than mature enough to handle her own affairs.
Despite this resolve, Jean-Sebastian couldn't deny a curiosity about what might be transpiring between Harry and Hermione. He suspected there was one person who could provide some insight—a certain intelligent and observant witch.
"Understood," Dumbledore replied in response to Sirius's statements. "However, it is imperative that we keep this information confidential. Jean-Sebastian, I trust you will share this with your wife, but beyond that, no one else should be privy to this revelation. Is that clear?"
Securing the required assurance, Dumbledore shifted into a more serious demeanor. "Now, it's crucial to acknowledge that I lack concrete evidence, and acquiring such proof may prove challenging. Nonetheless, I've identified a series of circumstances that align with my suspicions."
Dumbledore took a moment, inhaling deeply before fixing each person with an intense gaze. "I propose that Harry's scar isn't just an ordinary mark. Instead, I suspect that on the night his parents were murdered, Voldemort unintentionally created a Horcrux, and it became lodged behind Harry's scar."
"Mon dieu!" Jean-Sebastian exclaimed, perfectly mirroring Sirius's reaction of, "Merlin!"
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I assume both of you are familiar with the concept of a Horcrux?" He paused, inviting any questions or comments before proceeding with his detailed explanation. "A Horcrux is a dark magical object in which a wizard can hide a portion of their soul to achieve immortality. In Harry's case, I believe Voldemort, in a moment of desperation, inadvertently turned him into such a vessel."
"A soul anchor," Jean-Sebastian responded thoughtfully. "It's a method employed by dark wizards attempting to cheat death. They imbue a portion of their soul into an object, preventing their own soul from moving on when they die. To achieve this, they must commit the most heinous act—cold-blooded murder."
Sirius's expression contorted in horror as Jean-Sebastian concluded his explanation. "Are you serious?" he exclaimed. "I stumbled upon some references to Horcruxes in the Black family library, knew it had to do with soul magic and was particularly foul, but I had no idea it was this reprehensible."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, fixing on Sirius with an intense stare. "References to Horcruxes in your family's library?" he inquired, his voice laced with urgency.
"References, yes," Sirius admitted, a touch of discomfort in his voice. "But to the best of my knowledge, nothing more than that. My family has embraced the dark arts for centuries, but I can't say for sure if any actual Horcruxes were created."
Dumbledore's tone grew resolute. "Whatever the case, they must be destroyed. Knowledge of this dark magic must be eradicated to prevent others from delving into its malevolent depths."
Sirius nodded in agreement, a grim determination settling over the group as they faced the ominous task ahead.
Sirius raised his hands in a gesture of agreement. "I'm with you, Dumbledore. Last year, while I was there, I sifted through the books for something to occupy my time. Anything related to dark magic or that seemed cursed, I set aside and secured under the family wards. It should suffice until we can conduct a more thorough investigation."
"Agreed," Dumbledore responded, before redirecting his focus to the pressing issue. "I find it rather surprising that both of you are familiar with Horcruxes."
"I served as the Director of France's DMLE for a time," Jean-Sebastian explained. "Knowledge of dangerous magics, such as Horcruxes, was part of the job."
Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "However, I trust you both to recognize the gravity of the situation and the necessity of keeping this information confidential."
Jean-Sebastian's initial agreement gave way to a growing sense of anger. "I understand the need for secrecy," he began, "but I can't help but wonder why you never disclosed this to Harry."
Dumbledore's tone hardened. "What was I to say, Jean-Sebastian? I couldn't exactly inform him that I suspected he harbored a fragment of a madman's soul when he first arrived at Hogwarts at the age of eleven. Moreover, I cannot be certain, and I did not want to burden him, particularly when I am still uncertain about how to remove the Horcrux."
"I suppose not," Jean-Sebastian reluctantly agreed, acknowledging the complexity of the situation. While he understood the Headmaster's initial decision, circumstances had evolved, and Harry now seemed better equipped to bear the burden. Moreover, the young man deserved to be informed about something that would undoubtedly shape the course of his life. "But you do believe it can be removed."
"Every magic can be countered, Jean-Sebastian," Dumbledore rumbled, adopting his professorial demeanor. "You, of all people, should know this. While I have not discovered a specific method yet, the absence of evidence does not imply its nonexistence. Since the suspicion arose, I have immersed myself in the study of every dark magic book and esoteric treatise on the soul available. I've followed every lead, and recently, I received a tip on several promising books that I hope will shed light on a possible counter-spell."
"So, Harry is a Horcrux, and until he's free of it, Voldemort cannot be killed," Sirius summarized the grim reality. "Well, that's just bloody great."
"That's actually a fallacy," Jean-Sebastian interjected. Observing Sirius's puzzled expression, he clarified, "Nothing prevents Voldemort from being killed; it's just that he cannot move on until the Horcrux is eliminated."
"That may be even worse," Sirius responded glumly.
"Unfortunately, Sirius, I believe it is much worse than that," Dumbledore asserted.
"Worse?" Sirius exclaimed incredulously. "How can it be any worse?"
"Simply put, I don't believe that Harry's scar is the only Horcrux the dark lord created," Dumbledore revealed quietly.
As Jean-Sebastian and Sirius exchanged anxious glances, the Headmaster reached into a drawer on the side of his desk, producing a small key. With a deliberate motion, he unlocked the drawer and retrieved a small, black diary, placing it on the desk between them. The diary looked worn and charred, with warped pages and a conspicuous hole in its center, as if it had been subjected to intense heat or dark magic. An unsettling aura seemed to emanate from the damaged book, akin to the distant stench of a decaying animal left out in the hot summer sun.
Jean-Sebastian spoke softly, almost reverently, "This is a Horcrux?"
"Was a Horcrux," Dumbledore corrected. "This is the diary that Harry destroyed in his second year, after he killed the basilisk. I believe this diary was the first Horcrux created by Voldemort during his years at Hogwarts."
Jean-Sebastian immediately grasped the weight of the revelation. "Mon dieu! How many of these abominations did he create?"
"Of course, my estimations are based on guesswork and conjecture," Dumbledore replied. "But considering what I know of the dark lord and his proficiency in Arithmancy, I speculate that he would have chosen a number with significance."
"Meaning three, seven, or thirteen," Jean-Sebastian mused, nodding in understanding.
"Correct," Dumbledore affirmed.
Hold on a moment," Sirius interjected. "How could he make so many? Creating a Horcrux splits the soul. After the first, he would only have half a soul, a quarter after the second, an eighth after the third, and so on. How could he split it so many times?"
"Ah, and that is where most would be misled," Dumbledore responded. "Unfortunately, your assumption is another fallacy. The true nature of the soul remains uncertain, and I won't delve into tangents now. However, even if a piece of the soul is detached, it doesn't necessarily split in exactly half. My research suggests that the soul shatters into many smaller fragments, and one of these is drawn off to create the Horcrux, leaving the rest within the body. Over time, these fragments may reunite, but the soul, now missing a piece, renders the creator a little less human with each subsequent Horcrux."
Given the gravity of the situation and Dumbledore's revelations, Jean-Sebastian realized there might be no limit to the number of Horcruxes Voldemort could have created, apart from his relentless pursuit of "immortality." "So, he could have made many."
"I don't think so," Dumbledore responded thoughtfully. "While I cannot ascertain the extent of Voldemort's knowledge regarding Horcruxes, he may share Sirius's belief about the soul's consumption in the creation process. At the very least, I believe he would exercise caution in creating too many, considering the profound impact even a single Horcrux has on a person. The creator could become almost unrecognizable as human and potentially completely insane. Voldemort fears death but desires immortality without sacrificing his sanity."
"Three or seven, then?" Sirius inquired.
Dumbledore nodded. "My estimation is seven, including the portion that still resides in his body. If it were three, with Harry and the diary, there would be no more. However, I suspect he has used various enchanted items of great significance to create his Horcruxes, almost like trophies. I am in the process of seeking confirmation on this theory but lack more concrete information to share at this time. At the very least, I suspect Nagini, his familiar, is also a Horcrux. He seems to exert much more control over the snake than he would if it were merely a simple companion."
"But that could explain why Harry was able to dream of the snake," Jean-Sebastian exclaimed. "If they both have Horcruxes in them..."
"That is indeed possible," Dumbledore conceded. "However, the specifics are somewhat immaterial at this point."
"So, what do you plan to do?" Jean-Sebastian inquired, ready to offer his full assistance to Dumbledore's intentions.
"I will persist in the search for Voldemort's Horcruxes and destroy them as I uncover them," Dumbledore explained. "In the interim, though, we have other critical tasks ahead. Convincing the Minister of the dark lord's threat and mobilizing the Ministry for war are at the top of the priority list."
"Like we have any hope of achieving that," Sirius grumbled under his breath, a sentiment Jean-Sebastian privately shared.
"Fudge's obstructionism poses challenges, but we must persevere if we are to counter the Dark Lord," said Dumbledore. "Yet, of more immediate importance is securing the secret of the Horcruxes. Harry's connection with Voldemort is a potentially dangerous security vulnerability that must be closed for him to safely possess this knowledge. I do not believe the Dark Lord is currently aware of this connection, but should he discover it and realize that we are aware of his Horcruxes, the consequences could be disastrous."
"Occlumency?"
"In a word, yes. If Harry dedicates himself, he should become proficient quickly enough to resist all but a concentrated frontal assault, and even that would only be possible in close proximity. I can arrange for him to begin training with Severus once he returns to the castle after the New Year."
"Albus, are you barmy?" Sirius demanded. "Snape hates Harry with a passion, a sentiment reciprocated in equal measure, I might add, and rightly so."
"I am well aware of the animosity between them, Sirius, but I believe Severus is more than capable of handling this task. If I instruct him to do so, I believe he will set aside personal feelings and fulfill my request. He desires Voldemort's defeat as much as we do, I assure you."
"No," Jean-Sebastian countered. "Sirius is right, and I will not allow this man any more authority over Harry than he already has."
"Jean-Sebastian, I understand your reservations about Severus and his relationship with Harry," Dumbledore said in a soothing tone. "However, Severus is highly skilled and fully capable of teaching him. I cannot personally undertake this task, as I have numerous other responsibilities. Severus is truly the best choice for this."
"Not the only choice," Jean-Sebastian firmly disagreed. It was time to assert his stance—Snape could not be allowed to instruct Harry in such a delicate and critical matter. "Fleur can teach him. She has been learning Occlumency for several years now and is quite skilled. I began teaching her before she attended school. I will speak to her and ask her to teach Harry when he returns to Hogwarts."
Even Dumbledore had to concede that this was a superior plan. Regardless of whatever hold he had over Severus Snape, it logically made more sense for Harry to learn from someone he trusted. They reached an agreement that Jean-Sebastian would approach Fleur to enlist her help, and they would begin the training when they returned to school in the New Year.
"Then I believe we have our plan," Dumbledore stated.
"We do," Jean-Sebastian responded before fixing Dumbledore with a knowing look. "When did you intend to inform Harry?"
"I believe it would be better to wait until after Christmas," Dumbledore responded somewhat reluctantly. Jean-Sebastian sensed that he had hoped the discussion had changed their minds about the need to inform Harry. Still, he had to give the man credit for not obstructing them any further. "This will be Harry's first Christmas with your family, and I would prefer to wait until after to burden him with this so that we do not ruin his enjoyment of the holidays."
That decision, to wait until after Christmas, reassured Jean-Sebastian that, despite any past mistakes, Dumbledore genuinely had Harry's best interests at heart. He concurred that waiting an extra ten days or so posed no significant harm and let the matter drop. Soon after, he and Sirius took their leave, Flooing back to the Ambassador's Manor, and Sirius subsequently returning to Chateau Delacour. Weary, Jean-Sebastian settled into the chair at his desk, contemplating all he had learned that morning. The situation had abruptly become more complicated, and though his instincts urged him to leave England behind and protect his family, honor, loyalty to Harry, and common sense dictated that he stay the course.
Step into the world of PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n! Experience where tales unfold, magic ignites, and the future takes shape.
For exclusive support and early access to upcoming chapters, join us at PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n.
Note: Get the scoop a day before anyone else! Updates release on P.a.t.r.e.o.n before they hit FanFiction. Join us for free to read ahead!