Nothing is mine.

Harry has a lovely chat with Dumbledore after his little extra-curricular outing

While Only One Remembers

The quiet tick and whir of all manner of curious spinning silver objects filled the Headmaster's Office with a light thrum, like the distant hum of dragonfly wings across the Black Lake; their turning cogs and whirling hands flashed in the light of the small fire flickering in the corner. Fawkes watched them from his perch with one lazy black eye, cocking his head back and forth between each glinting arm as they caught the light, and, in the moments between, peering at Harry with a penetrating stare. His feathers glowed like they were spun from fire, burning gold and orange and yellow and red, shimmering with magic like dancing flames, and small bright sparks drifted from him like embers tossed high above a night bonfire, floating past his crimson crest-feathers to fade away into the air.

'Fascinating creatures, phoenixes,' Professor Dumbledore murmured from behind his desk. 'Even having been blessed with Fawkes's companionship for so many years, I know so little about him. He comes and goes as pleases, and understands me perfectly when he wishes but not at all when he does not.'

'How long has he been with you?' Harry asked.

'Oh, a rather long time now, so long that even a man of my own not immodest age cannot quite believe the number on his lips.' A sharp gleam entered Dumbledore's bright blue eyes. 'But, while we speak of phoenixes, Harry; I have heard rumours that your Patronus is also a phoenix? Did the change occur over the summer?'

'It did.'

'Most curious.' He dipped his fingers into the small bowl of sweets on his desk, untwisting the clear wrapper of a bright yellow one. 'Did a phoenix appear to you? I looked over the official record of your hearing at the Ministry of Magic, but there was no mention of one.'

'Should one have?

Professor Dumbledore slipped the sweet into his mouth and the clear wrapper faded into nothing upon his palm. 'My patronus was a swan, once upon a time. A proud bird; it was a most fitting creature for myself as a younger man, Harry, for I had not yet learnt many of life's greatest lessons. Some decades later, as the path of my greatest and dearest friend diverged from my own, Fawkes came to me in a moment of despair and doubt, and from that moment it was a phoenix. I believe that one must have truly felt the magic of a phoenix — had it mark them — to cast a patronus capable of such potent inspiration.'

'Fawkes did save me in second year,' Harry asserted. 'Perhaps, after Voldemort did his creepy resurrection ritual with my blood, that did something?'

'It is possible,' Professor Dumbledore mused. 'Such magic is sometimes beyond the grasp of our understanding.' He swapped his sweet from one cheek to the other and smiled. 'I'm sure, though, Harry, you must have a great many questions for me after this evening's events. Please, do ask.'

'Yes.' Harry tried to think of some. 'Are you allowed to be back here, sir?'

'Oh, while I appreciate your concern, Harry, I have little fear of Cornelius's misplaced attempts at justice. For much of this year, to the Wizengamot and to those who advise the ICW, Cornelius has strongly argued that it was your late godfather who was at the root of the trouble. Without wishing to be insensitive, this is not an argument he can make any longer; he will be busy running damage control and then, in all likelihood, out of office before he has time to make trouble for anyone else.' Professor Dumbledore released a quiet sigh. 'You have my sympathy for your loss, Harry.'

Harry smiled to himself. 'Nothing is lost, Professor.'

'Perhaps old age has lent me comfort with the idea of death, but I find I quite agree with you,' Professor Dumbledore said, running his fingers through his long silver beard. 'Who knows to which shores we depart after our time here is done? But I believe it is better to let those we love go with a fond farewell than cling to the pain of their passing.'

'Nothing hurts,' Harry said. 'He wouldn't want me to mope around; he's probably happier being free and part of everything else than he was stuck in that house.' He imagined Sirius, running free through a carpet of tulips beneath arching boughs bearing a breathtaking expanse of leaves that shone in the sun like emeralds. 'Much happier.'

'Yes—' a gentle smile spread across Professor Dumbledore's face '—yes, I daresay he is.'

Harry eyed the bowl of sweets. 'Can Voldemort get the prophecy then?'

'Thanks to your timely, if, perhaps, rather risky, venture, there is no way he can ever retrieve it now.' Professor Dumbledore pushed the bowl across the desk. 'Do help yourself, Harry. You will be saving this old man from his vices.'

'Thanks.' Harry grabbed a red one. 'Are these blood pops?'

'A pear drop; I have a weakness for muggle confectionery, something I discovered in my youth and have indulged ever since.'

He unwrapped it and poked it past his lips; a light, sweet taste filled his mouth, with just a tang of pear. 'I think I prefer the blood pops, they're sharper. But, speaking of blood, did someone, er… clean up Umbridge? I'd hate to think some poor first year will accidently splash through her on the way to breakfast tomorrow morning; they'll think Hermione's caught another Muggle-born again.'

Professor Dumbledore's lips flattened a fraction. 'Her remains have been recovered after her unfortunate accident, yes, Harry.' He lifted his half-moon spectacles from his nose and set them down on the desk. 'I would like to share something with you now, Harry, something I believe you are now old enough to hear.'

'Is it a prophecy?' Harry laughed to himself. 'Sorry, I broke the glass orb over Lucius Malfoy's head and didn't get to hear it.'

'That was not your most sincere apology, Harry.'

'That's probably because I didn't mean it in the slightest, it was very funny. And it made Bellatrix laugh, which is quite possibly the only reason she decided to play with her food and not to just slice me up before you all got there.' He stabbed at the air with his flat hand. 'Turns out, whatever it was she said she is is really dangerous.'

'Agwydkleze, I would imagine; it means first-class auror and they are, without exception, powerful individuals capable of very dangerous magic,' Professor Dumbledore said. 'But they are not the most pressing concern we have.' He folded his hands on the desk. 'I happen to know the words of the prophecy off by heart, Harry, but I can show you the memory of it if you prefer.'

'No, that's fine,' he said. 'I'm sure it's something creepy and disturbing to do with Voldemort.'

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,' Professor Dumbledore murmured. '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.'

'Huh.' Harry frowned. 'But then why did Voldemort want it so badly? It's already happened.'

Professor Dumbledore rested his chin on the tips of his folded hands. 'I do not believe this prophecy solely refers to the night upon which you were marked by that scar, Harry. I believe that on that night he did, of course, mark you as his equal, but that one day in the future, you will vanquish him. To that end, I will spend this coming summer in pursuit of crucial items so that he can be vanquished before it is too late.'

'He thinks that's already done. He went off to die so he could come back and convince everyone he was a saviour, and he did it, so why does he care about the prophecy?'

'Is this something you… saw?'

'Not really. He told me himself.'

'He told you about that prophecy?' Professor Dumbledore's forehead creased. 'I cannot imagine Tom would reveal something that could be construed as a weakness. He would surely not talk about it at all. I believe the only ones who know what it says are him, myself, the follower of his who overheard Professor Trelawney speaking it to me that night at the pub, and now you.'

'It's actually quite hard to stop him talking,' Harry said. 'It's all he does. Always monologuing on. I can barely get a word in. And half the time he goes off into weird Welsh that I know absolutely none of.'

'Brythonic, I would imagine, Harry.'

'Yes. That's it.' He laughed. 'The one without all the vowels. I actually quite like the sound of it, but not when it's Voldemort speaking it.'

'Has Tom spoken of anything else?' Professor Dumbledore asked.

'It's mostly all aileni yn marvoleth, some disturbing red crayon time, and a lot of talking about how he's going to save the dying magical world.' Harry stole another sweet, a yellow one. 'He did tell me to ask you about the ICW to see if you'd lie to me.'

'No doubt he hopes to turn you against me, or at least convince you to doubt my motivations.' Professor Dumbledore sighed. 'The ICW, Harry, is not a cheerful subject of conversation, nor is it a short conversation.'

'That's okay, sir, at this point I'm so late for bed I might as well just defer sleeping until tomorrow anyway. I can't have any more weird dreams this way, too.'

'Well, we ought to start at the beginning, then. I am not sure how much you have heard of this subject; the sharing of it has been… made difficult… and as a result it is hard to learn about it without the subject suffering some distortion from the few sources of knowledge available.' Professor Dumbledore polished his palms together, a sombre gleam in his blue eyes. 'The ICW, the International Cabal of Wychfolke to give it its full title, was founded thousands of years ago. At some point, during what is believed to be the Bronze Age, and for reasons that have either been lost or deliberately obscured, it came to be believed that the greatest magic in our world was fading. To find a solution for this, the greatest wizards and witches of the time came together to try and prevent it. Some suggest that as a result of their efforts they were gifted a prophecy, one that they spread to the furthest corners of their reach in the hope of its fulfilment. But the ICW states that what actually happened was that they determined this threat of fading magic to be a falsehood.'

'Is that true?'

'If I am to be perfectly honest with you, Harry, the ICW is more likely to have altered the story of its own founding than not; it is entirely possible they were founded under completely different circumstances — probably ones that would not be considered so altruistic. However, be that as it may, they were founded. They were given authority over any and all magicals, and, as those who have tasted such supreme power are wont to do, they would not relinquish it.'

'Oh.'

'A most succinct summary of how I would suspect those that advocated for the ICW's formation only to find themselves at its mercy felt, Harry.' Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes shone with brief humour. 'Over time, the ICW has profoundly changed from a council working for the good of the magical world, assuming that ever was true, to one that works almost entirely for its own good. Personally, I have always believed that in the earlier centuries of its existence, it likely remained cohesive, acting against those that would challenge its authority and expanding its dominion, but there must have come a point when rivals within the ICW began to be perceived as a greater threat to each other than those without. Since then, the ICW has fought itself even as it continued to expand across the world; like the serpent devouring its own tail, its members struggle ceaselessly with one another for greater power and recognition, rising and falling over the centuries, but never risking the ICW's position itself. Indeed, most of the families, having securely founded themselves, continued to accrue more and more power, entering into a perpetual arms race with one another. You might have heard the saying that power corrupts, Harry; well, the ICW has had a lot of power for a very very long time..'

'It's very strange to hear you agree with Voldemort, sir.'

'I have agreed with more terrifying wizards than Tom in my time, Harry.' A flicker of regret passed through Professor Dumbledore's eyes. 'But where we differ, of course, is in our decision to act. To avoid unnecessary challenges to their power in an era that values free will and democracy, the ICW has created ministries such as our own here in Britain, and left much of the running of nations to them for the last few centuries. Their own power struggles have grown more subtle so as to maintain this convenient facade. I would be hesitant indeed to risk returning to past times where the ICW ruled with an absolute fist.'

'What about that prophecy, sir? The one with the saviour.'

'The prophecy…' Professor Dumbledore's forehead wrinkled and deep shadows stretched across his face. 'Most know it in some form or another, particularly in Britain where there is a long history of rebelling against the authority of the ICW and a deep-rooted belief in that prophecy. The ICW fears it being true partially because it suggests change, and change might cost them their power and wealth, and partially because it remains one of very few things that could rally enough wizards and witches to its cause to genuinely challenge their dominance. They have tried to eradicate it for so many years in so many ways that it has grown difficult to tell what is fact and what is fiction; indeed, I do not think anyone can really tell the truth of it until the saviour it foretells arrives.'

Harry laughed to himself. 'I think some people believe he has.'

'They do indeed. Tom's open call to arms under the banner of that prophecy may undo in the space of a few years almost a lifetime of my work.' A long sigh escaped Professor Dumbledore. 'I have, since my defeat of Gellert Grindelwald — who also attempted to throw off the rule of the ICW, believing them to be responsible for the deaths of his family when he was a child — been fortunate enough to have their ear and trust, and much of my efforts have been spent in encouraging the ICW to allow local ministries to take over more and more of the responsibility of running things. I have had some success, but only because there was no threat to the true power of the ICW itself, and the decentralisation and delegation of much of the work was naturally appealing.'

'So Daphne's right. The Ministry and the Wizengamot are just a smokescreen.'

'I think that is, perhaps, an uncharitable assessment, Harry,' Professor Dumbledore replied. 'They were certainly created with that partially in mind, but to become an effective screen, they have had to be able to act as if they are truly governing. And so, in effect, have become almost what people would like them to be.'

'But the ICW still controls them.'

'When the ICW wishes to, it can impose its own will upon them,' he said. 'But, Harry, you must understand that the difference in power between the ICW and the rest of the world is insurmountable. Each family upon the ICW has vast wealth acquired from generations of tithes and taxes upon their lands, and they can all call upon fiercely loyal retainer forces that far outnumber and outclass most ordinary wizards and witches. Without a miracle, the ICW will always be able to impose its own will by force if it wants to.'

'Guess we'd better hope for a miracle.'

'I think it wiser to hope that, over time, the ICW grows so comfortable in its power that it passes more and more responsibility away and that it never wants to. Let the ICW live in luxury upon Atlantis and leave the rest of the world to its own devices.'

'Atlantis, sir?'

'A Greek city of famous beauty, ripped from its roots by the ICW and placed in a secret location for them alone,' Professor Dumbledore explained. 'The families that the ICW consists of all live there, though they have vast estates and many retainers across the lands they consider their own. Members of the ICW have duties to enact, tithes to pay to the high council for various purposes of the ICW and much more. Failure to uphold those duties or complete assignments given by the high council leads to humiliation and harsh penalties.'

'I see.' Harry twisted the wrapper off the yellow sweet and stuck it in his mouth, wincing from the stab of sour lemon. 'So, the ICW have all the power, do whatever they want, and we just hope they don't do anything bad?'

'In simple terms, Harry, I am afraid so.'

'And Voldemort is probably going to make them do something bad by going around murdering their retainers and claiming to be the saviour who might overthrow them.' He frowned. 'That doesn't seem very fair on everyone else.'

Professor Dumbledore nodded, his face long and solemn. 'I am growing concerned that after the foundation of the ministries and a couple of centuries of their success, the families upon the ICW are growing restless with their lot again. It is likely that Emyr Pendragon's father secretly sponsored Grindelwald knowing that the conflict there would weaken his long rivals, the Volsungs. And the Volsungs replied in kind during Tom's first rise to power. As a result, Tom was given the chance he needed to seize power and gather a following. I cannot tell whether he truly considers himself the saviour or if it is merely an act to gain followers, but his aims are likely identical in either case. He must gather the strength to defeat Maerdrid and the Graal-Kynak, and displace the Pendragon family. The ICW may simply welcome him into the fold, for to give Pendragon's lands to another existing member would upset the delicate balance of power between them and lead to conflict, weakening their grip.'

'Doesn't sound much fun,' Harry said, crunching on his sweet and filling his mouth with sour lemon flavour. 'But you think it's going to be fine, because I'll vanquish him before anything bad happens.' He laughed under his breath. 'I'm going to have to learn some new spells, but probably not the intestine braiding one Bellatrix suggested.'

'Tom must be stopped before he provokes Maerdrid or his Emyr Pendragon into a forceful retaliation and reminds the ICW that, as convenient as their facade is, they can rule with a clenched fist if they want.'

Harry thought of his dreams, of her, waiting in the snow with that terribly sharp smile, of that breathtaking green place with its carpet of flowers, small, dark stream, and how it brimmed with magic. 'But what if that prophecy is right, sir?'

'I cannot say with full certainty that it is not,' Professor Dumbledore admitted. 'Prophecies are most delicate, difficult things. Even the smallest predictions are not always as we expect, and those of us sensitive to magic are often assailed with many strange dreams or feelings. The one I shared with you, Harry, I witnessed first hand, and am inclined to trust as true having seen it unfold before my own eyes. But the one Voldemort wants to fulfil was first spoken thousands of years ago, if spoken at all — there are those that believe the ICW seeded the prophecy among their enemies so that those who might oppose them would wait for a saviour who would have to do the impossible to fulfil the signs, and therefore wait until it was too late to overcome the power of the ICW — and still no saviour has come.'

'That would be very devious.' Harry grinned. 'Extremely Slytherin.'

'Deviousness is not a trait unique to Slytherin, Harry, and I must ask you to exercise a modicum of cunning yourself, and not speak of what we have discussed too loudly.' Professor Dumbledore stood up. 'I will be away this summer, but I have made arrangements for our most capable member of the Order of the Phoenix to watch over you until I come to collect you at the end of August.'

'Collect me?'

'There is a former professor we must convince back to Hogwarts, Harry; I am certain that he knows something of vital importance for our endeavours to defeat Tom, but we will speak of this in the future.'

'Something to worry about later.' Harry pushed his chair back and stole another lemon sweet from the bowl. 'Night, sir!'

'Good night, Harry,' Professor Dumbledore replied. 'Sleep well.'

'Hopefully,' he said, strolling out and down the spiral stairs. 'It's that or more weird dreams. The Voldemort ones aren't so bad, I suppose. Or the green ones. Some of the rest are just confusing, though.'

Daphne stood in the centre of the corridor before the gargoyle, her blue eyes cold and sharp as hoarfrost. 'Potter.' She hooked the rogue lock of blonde hair back behind her ear with her little finger, looking him up and down. 'You made it back.'

The butterflies stirred their wings somewhere in the top of Harry's chest. 'Daphne—'

She turned on her heel and swept off, vanishing into the shadows of the castle.

'Well,' he muttered. 'At least Astoria can finally relax, I guess.'

Harry stood there as the butterflies crawled back into the deepest part of his stomach, waiting for the pang of loss to hit, for some sort of grief, regret, or remorse.

Nothing did.

A smile came instead; it spread wide across his face, wider and wider, and laughter bubbled up past the retreating butterflies, welling up like dark water spilling through some slim crack across its frozen surface.

'I suppose she did say it wouldn't end well. It's not so bad.' He chuckled as the gargoyle slid shut behind him and crunched on his last sour, lemon-flavoured sweet. 'Nothing is lost; all is but changed.'

AN: Loads and loads more of this story and others via the linktree!

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