Chapter 10: Dumbledore's Dying?
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It was a few days later and Bill, Sirius, Kingsley and Tonks were there in Grimmauld Place ready to go and raid Little Hangleton for the last horcrux, bar Nagini. Moody had gotten the one from the Room of Requirements just the day before, with the help of the Hogwarts house elves. The Ravenclaw ghost had been helpful in identifying what it was, but other than that was of little use. Ole Mad-eye had hunted it down among the junk and brought it back to this house and they decided to go after this one tonight.
They were laying out what to do and how to get there when Moody came stomping in. He sat down at the table and announce, "Don't bloody bother, it's not there." He grabbed his flask from his hip and took a swig.
"What do you mean 'it's not there'?" Bill asked, having verified the horcrux's location just the day before. He had wanted to make sure they had the correct spot before they went on tonight's raid. He would have gotten it then, but it was a job for more than one person. There was a compulsion charm on the horcrux that required a two-man team a best.
"I mean, I was just there, and someone has come and taken it," Mad-eye stated, rubbing his prosthetic eye. "The wards were torn to shreds and the horcrux is gone. I don't know who took it." He had a good idea though, and he was going to have words with his friend. Dumbledore had overstepped his bounds this time. He had been told to leave this alone. They had this in control and were going to deal with it. Damn that man, why couldn't he listen.
"Bloody buggering hell," Tonks said, slumping in her chair. She had taken time off from her other job for this. She was supposed to be hunting down information on Umbridge, but thought this was more important. She was sure her boss would think the same. Now someone had gone and mucked it all up. Shite. A night lost. How was she going to explain this? She had nothing to show for her work. Oh well, it was going to be fine. It wasn't her fault.
"Right, well, this is the last thing we needed," Sirius stated, running a hand through his hair. He didn't care who got it, as long as they had proof that it wasn't Voldemort.
"Too right," Kingsley said, looking at Moody like he had some answers. "Was it the Dark Lord?"
"No, I think we have Dumbledore to thank," Mad-eye stated, lifting his flask in a toasting manner.
"Why do you think that?" Sirius asked, groaning over the fact that he thought the man was right.
"The way the wards were taken down. If it had been the Dark Lord, then they would have been taken down differently. These were ripped down by an amateur. No, it was Dumbledore. He wanted to come, we told him no. Albus doesn't take being told no well," Alastor stated in a knowing fashion. He knew that all too well. No one told Albus no and got away with it. The old man saw to that. He would do it anyway and just ask forgiveness later and usually receive it. Not this time though, at least Alastor didn't think so.
"You're right about that," Sirius said, rubbing his nose in a frustrated way. "Albus not like being told no, that is," he reiterated. He too knew that well. He was one of the few people that liked to tell the old man no on many occasions.
"Well, what do we do?" Tonks asked, not sure if this was a good thing or not. Dumbledore wasn't the enemy, was he?
"We find out what he's done with it," Bill insisted. He on the other hand didn't trust that the headmaster did have good intentions with the horcrux. The man was not a curse breaker and didn't know how to safely obtain one. For all the man was brilliant, he was just a headmaster. Well, that was not completely true, he was the head of the ICW and the Wizengamot. However, those positions didn't give him any more insights into curse breaking. What the fuck was the man thinking?
"I'll talk to him," Moody stated, growling under his breath at the audacity of his friend at doing this. He knew the man was stubborn, but he didn't have the capacity to do this.
"You'd better. We need to make sure that that horcrux is gone," Sirius stated. "I don't care that he got it first, just that it's gone."
"Too right," Kingsley said, getting up and pouring himself a firewhiskey. He didn't care who got it, just that it was taken care of.
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The next day, Mad-eye went to Hogwarts and confronted Dumbledore in his office. He found the man being tended to by Severus Snape. Albus's hand was shriveled up and blackened. He looked like he was one foot in the grave. "Great Merlin, Dumbledore, what did you do? Never mind, don't answer that. What curse did you trip yesterday?" he asked, looking at the mummified hand with his magical eye. He already knew the answer, but wanted to see if the old man would tell him the truth.
Dumbledore gave a weak smile, his eyes twinkling even in the face of his obvious pain. "It is a complex and dark magic, Alastor. One that I could not avoid as I attempted to destroy the horcrux." He acted as if they had not planned on doing just that and that it was his burden alone. Blast that man.
Snape scowled, his hands deftly applying a salve to the withered hand. "He was reckless, as usual," he muttered, though there was a hint of worry in his tone that betrayed his usual cold demeanor. He needed the man alive to help protect the boy. Not that it was a great burden, but he needed his help in that capacity. Not only that, but it is said that the Dark Lord was afraid of Dumbledore. As long as the headmaster is alive then Voldemort will not strike the castle. The children will be safe.
"Reckless or not, we need to ensure that the horcrux is truly gone," Moody insisted, his magical eye narrowing as it scrutinized the headmaster's injuries. "This is far too important to leave to chance." It was his sole reason for this talk, though he would like to know if his friend was in pain. He knew the man was dying.
"It is done," Dumbledore assured, his voice firm despite his weakened state. "The horcrux has been destroyed. But the curse it bore was potent, and it will take time for me to recover fully," he said, lying through his teeth. He was dying and he knew it. He had less than a year to live. Snape told him that last night when he came back to Hogwarts. He had thought for sure that he was going to die last night, but Severus had saved him and prolonged his life for a year. Now he only had that amount of time to get the things he needed to get done, done.
Moody's expression softened slightly, though his concern was far from alleviated. "You should have let us handle it, Albus. You're not invincible. We told you this. You are not a curse breaker. We had a team set up to handle it. We are most wroth with you," he added, glaring at his friend.
Dumbledore chuckled softly, a sound that was both weary and warm. "No, I am not. But sometimes, we must bear the burdens ourselves to protect those we care about. This was one such burden." He had gotten what he wanted, the Deathly Hallow. Now he had two, he only needed to get Harry's cloak, though he didn't think he'd have the time. He might just leave the legacy to Harry. Perhaps in a trinket that would set the boy up to get them all at the right time. He didn't need the burden to be handed to him at such a young age. Maybe when he was older.
"I'll leave you to it. I'm taking you at your word that the horcrux is gone. I know you would not lie to me about that," Moody said, knowing he lied about getting better. He knew the Withering Curse when he saw it. There was no coming back from that. He'd have to tell the others. "I'll just be on my way," he said, getting up to leave.
"Alastor," Albus said, stopping him from leaving. He needed him to pass on a message.
"Yes, Albus," Moody said, standing with his hand on the knob.
"Tell Harry that I am sorry," was the request.
"Tell him yourself. I am not your messenger," Moody stated, though there was no heat in that statement. He just knew it would not be well received.
"I fear he may not speak to me," Albus stated, sighing a frustrated sigh.
"That is not my fault," Moody said, then he too sighed. "I'll tell him, for all the good it will do."
"Thank you, Alastor," Dumbledore stated, and then he turned back to Snape, who sneered at both men for their touching scene.
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"So, Dumbledore is dying," Harry said, rubbing his chin in thought. He wasn't quite sure how he thought about that. On one hand he was happy the man would be out of his life. On the other hand, it really just didn't matter. Albus Dumbledore was not that important. Moody had passed on the message that the old man was sorry, though not what for. Harry didn't care. Dumbledore could spout apologies all day long, they would not mean anything. It was just the headmaster's way of getting what he wanted.
"Yep," Sirius said, he too was torn. Albus had been a role model in his life for a long time. He had been there for him all throughout his school years. Sure, not so much during his adult years, but when he was a teenager, yeah, the man had stood by his side. On the other hand, he had left him to rot in prison all these years. So, there was that.
"This is terrible," Hermione stated, weeping openly. She was just too kindhearted a person that anyone's death was just a tragedy. She had looked up to Dumbledore her entire academic career. She had gone into Gryffindor to be like him. He had been her idol. She didn't idolize him now, but she didn't want to see him dead.
"Well, I'm not going to shed a tear for him," Harry decided. He did look at his best friend and smile. She was still crying over the old man.
"Me neither," Sirius said, looking at the weeping Hermione, and grinning.
"I can't help it," she protested, wiping away her tears. She knew they were laughing at her and her feminine ways. Well, they could just stuff it. She was a woman, and she would cry if she wanted too.
"It's alright, Hermione, someone has to cry for the old man," Harry said, knowing full well and good that most of the wizarding world would be crying for the bastard. They didn't know how manipulative the man was.
"It's just so sad. I mean to get brought down trying to stop Voldemort," she said, swiping at more tears. "That has to mean something, right?" she asked, looking at the two men in her life.
"That could have been me, you know," Sirius stated, puffing out his chest.
"Don't even joke about that," Harry said, poking said chest. He didn't even want to think about what could have happened if the team had come across that curse. Then again, they had Bill.
"What kind of funeral do you think they'll give Dumbledore? I mean I know he's not dead yet, but I'm curious," Hermione asked Sirius, who knew more about wizarding funerals. She had read about them, of course, but it would be nice to hear about what a pureblood would think.
"Well, Dumbledore is a legend in his own right. I imagine it would be a grand affair, filled with all the pomp and circumstance the wizarding world can muster," Sirius replied thoughtfully. Though he was loath to admit it, the man was important. "There'll likely be representatives from every corner of the wizarding world, paying their respects. Hogwarts will probably host it, given his long association with the school. Hell, they'll probably bury him there, come to think of it." He rubbed his goatee in thought. He didn't like the idea, but the more he thought about it, the more it bore fruit. It sounded like something the wizarding world would do for their hero. And Albus Dumbledore was a long-time hero.
"I don't understand, there aren't any other headmasters buried there," Harry said, looking around like the answer would present itself. It did not, it was quiet as a mouse. He looked back to Sirius, who just shrugged.
"None of them lasted as long as Dumbledore did," his godfather stated, looking just as put out as his godson. He didn't like it either, but that was just the way wizards were. "You have to understand, Harry, Dumbledore has been a household name for over eighty years," he explained, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.
Hermione nodded, her eyes still glistening with tears. "You're probably right. He did so much for the school and the magical community at large. Say what you will about him, he did do a lot."
"Yeah, well, let's not start planning a funeral when the man's still breathing," Harry said, a hint of impatience in his voice. It was the last thing he wanted to be talking about. Though he didn't want to argue the point, he really couldn't think of the many things that the old man did for the community.
"True," Sirius agreed. "But one thing's for sure, it would be one of the largest gatherings we've seen in a long time. People will come to honor him, regardless of what we think of him personally." He grimaced at the thought of all those people weeping and worshiping at the grave of Dumbledore.
Hermione managed to smile a small smile. "I suppose you're right. It will be a time for everyone to reflect on what he meant to them and the contributions he made. Or didn't make, as the case may be," she amended given the company she was in. She knew the old man had failed when it came to these two men.
"Still won't change anything for me," Harry muttered under his breath, but he didn't press the matter further. He wasn't going to go whether it was here or at Hogwarts. He was going to hide that day and not come out until it was over.
"Thanks for answering me, Sirius. I never know what's going to happen with these things," Hermione said, finally drying up her tears.
"Not a problem, Hermione. I always have time to answer your questions," the dogman said, giving her a friendly grin.
"Hey, how come you never have time to answer my questions?" Harry teased, knowing full well that Sirius answered every question he ever asked. Well, unless it was about sex, then the man got red. He'd answer them, after a few minutes stuttering, but it was hysterical to watch. His dad had told him to do that.
"She's prettier than you, brat," Sirius said, sticking his tongue out at him.
"Well, you got me there," Harry conceded. He had to admit that his sister-like friend was much prettier than him.
"Oh, you two," Hermione said, smacking them on the shoulder.
"When are the twins due home?" Harry asked, noting that it was going on dinner. If he was correct, they were late.
"They should have been home an hour ago," Sirius noted, glancing at his watch.
"Oh, dear," Hermione said, worrying her hands.
"I'll go and floo their shop," Harry said, getting up and going to the floo in the kitchen. He took the powder and added it to the flame, when it turned green, he stuck his head in the fire and yelled, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes." Then he hollered "Fred, where are you?"
"I'm right here, Harry," George said, looking at him queerly. "Why are you yelling?" he asked.
"No, you're George. But you'll do. Why aren't you two home yet? We're worried sick. There's a war going on, you know," he told the twin, giving him an exasperated look. "We don't have a clock like your mum's. We don't know if you're just working or not," he reminded him.
"Oops, sorry," George said, looking at the clock on the wall. "We got caught up. Be home in a tick," he promised. "Fred! We worked late again," he yelled into the shop to where his brother was working on a new prank.
"Shite," came the voice from the workshop as something exploded. "Shite," was heard again. "Be right out!" Fred called through the door.
"We'll be there soon," George stated, cutting out the connection.
Harry pulled his head from the fire; glad the twins were okay. He shouldn't have worried so much, Voldemort hadn't done much of anything, and he knew why. The man was going after the prophecy. Harry already knew what the prophecy was. What it said, what it meant, and how much it related to him. He thought the whole thing was hooey, but Voldemort and Dumbledore put a lot of clout into it.
He knew he was going to get sucked into this war some way or another. He was going to do his best not to, however… old men and their games. Now he had to deal with the politicians and their games as well. Speaking of which, "How is Fudge going to take Dumbledore's death?" he asked Sirius as he conjured a fireball to play with. He was feeling antsy.
"I don't think the old man is going to let the public know he's dying," Sirius stated. "You know how he is. Keeping things close to his chest until the last minute. I'll bet we would have never known about the horcruxes if you hadn't told us," he said, nodding gravely.
"You're right. He'll probably die right there in that golden chair of his, and everyone will think it was of old age," Harry said thoughtfully.
"No, he'll orchestrate it to be a martyr's death," Hermione said with some insight. She might have admired the old man, but she knew him well.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. He could see the old man coming up with some elaborate scheme to die tragically for the masses. He'd make someone the hero doing it too. Harry just hoped the man kept him out of it.