CHAPTER 24: THE COMPLETE DISUNITY OF THE POTTERS
The snow was falling heavily across the English landscape, as was customary in this season. For days now, a fierce storm had blanketed the land, making it highly unlikely for anyone unfortunate enough to attempt to brave it to find their way through the constant blizzard. It gripped the chests and chilled the blood of the rare individuals daring enough to face it. Apart from the sound of the cold wind sweeping across the surrounding moors and weaving through the bare branches of the numerous trees in the region, nothing else could be heard for miles around. Not even the slightest noise indicating that, despite the hostile weather, life persisted and continued to flow more or less tranquilly. Nottinghamshire was no exception to this rule, but nonetheless, a man ventured forth, disturbing the relative calm with a deafening "pop" echoing through the valleys lined with surrounding trails.
Wrapped in a thick, dark cloak from head to toe, his face obscured for the moment under a hood, revealing nothing but a long white beard cascading down to his waist. However, a negative aura emanated from him the moment his feet touched the snow. The powdery flakes seemed to swirl around him without touching, as if a force field protected him from the tiny snowflakes—or perhaps it was the effect of the prevailing ill-temper surrounding him, causing them to melt before touching the ground.
The man stood still for a few moments, gazing at the lovely manor visible a few dozen meters away from him, perhaps mesmerized by the picturesque view of this secluded part of the United Kingdom. Without further ado, he strode toward it with determination, indifferent to the suddenly rising wind that had dislodged his hood. His long hair and beard were now swept by the blizzard, his figure slightly stooped by time and age, the lenses of his half-moon glasses fogged, his vision blurred. Nevertheless, Dumbledore forged a path to the barrier demarcating the small estate he intended to visit, particularly to pay a visit to the two remaining inhabitants of this beautiful house.
Yet his visit was far from a courtesy call, completely unexpected, and the expression he bore as he ventured through the snow could have been enough to melt it: Cold, tense, devoid of the slightest ounce of sympathy or amiability that was ordinarily associated with him. The headmaster of Hogwarts made absolutely no effort to mask the anger that had settled within him for some weeks now. His work had been significantly affected, and it had become rare to see Dumbledore sharing meals with the students or engaging in discussions with them or the Hogwarts teaching staff about the latest school events. Even staff meetings had been postponed, yet no one had deemed it necessary to inform him that by delaying these encounters, Dumbledore risked seeing his office overwhelmed by the weight of administrative tasks.
After all, everyone was now aware of his little machinations against the Potter family and, more generally, the various misdemeanors he had committed to conceal from everyone the misdeeds he had accomplished. Consequently, the relationship he had with the other professors and employees of Hogwarts had become strained, if not outright execrable. Likewise, he must have felt the suspicious and, on occasion, mocking glances from the students he crossed paths with in the school corridors. And all this in just three weeks and a few days. He had long since stopped keeping track of the precise hours separating him from the Wizengamot hearing that had completely shattered the public image he once had. But the mere memory of that fateful day was enough to evoke feelings one would never have expected to see in a man like him. It was not uncommon for him to vent his frustrations on his otherwise precious office objects when it wasn't simply on one of the portraits of the former Hogwarts directors. Anyway, he had long lost their respect, and he had nothing to lose by completely alienating them.
However, what he had so far overlooked was how James and Matthew had perceived this unfortunate affair and the repercussions it had on them and their small family life. In truth, since the hearing, Dumbledore had seen James only once, and it was very briefly in the Ministry of Magic's hall. On that day, James seemed preoccupied, his eyes clouded as if for the first time in his life, he seemed to realize the weight of his actions and the impact they could have on his daily life. James had also noticed him, but unlike his usual self, he merely passed by without reacting, not even stopping to greet him or inquire about news. Instead, he had royally avoided him.
"I don't have time..." he had simply said while passing by, not looking at him as Dumbledore was about to address him.
His behavior had particularly troubled Dumbledore, and while bewilderment was initially the dominant feeling within him, Dumbledore quickly began to have concerns about this new facet of their relationship. The Hogwarts headmaster had hoped that James wouldn't reconsider his support for the cause he championed, and he inwardly prayed that James would continue to believe in him and his principles, even if it meant once again crossing the boundaries of what was tolerable in the maneuvers used to achieve his ends. James' support was crucial to him, but it was primarily a matter of money: Although having spent a significant portion of his fortune on insignificant trivialities since his new status as the head of the Potter household, Matthew's father still possessed a substantial wealth that Dumbledore intended to continue using.
But more important than the father's money and loyalty was the state in which the son found himself. If Matthew, as usual, followed his father in everything and mirrored his personality on James', then the worst was to be feared. The last few months had already been particularly trying for him, and his character had suffered. From the boy who was admittedly egocentric, boastful, unpleasant, and downright odious towards others, Matthew had turned into a withdrawn and silent little boy, only showing signs of life when someone showed interest in him. The rest of the time, he stayed in his room, with nobody knowing what was going on with him. His mother's departure, as James had said, had been terrible for him, and a probable sense of guilt had arisen, along with a reconsideration of his behavior towards her and the rest of his family.
Dumbledore had tried to get him to confess what had been troubling him for so long, but his protege stubbornly shut himself off in a silence that ultimately irritated Dumbledore even more than if he had confessed his little nine-year-old troubles. Therefore, his condition did not improve at all over the passing months, and the hearing probably only confirmed to Matthew that he had not lived in a stable environment lately and that a profound reevaluation was necessary. And if that was the case, then Dumbledore might have a much less willing student to follow him in whatever he wished to undertake, and his training to effectively combat Voldemort was certainly not going to proceed as smoothly as it had been until now.
In other words, Dumbledore was in a fix, and if, as he imagined, Voldemort targeted his top priority upon his return—namely, the one who had incapacitated him for many years, dealing a serious blow to the morale of many who saw him as a savior—then he needed to redouble his efforts to present to him on that day a young man powerful enough to definitively defeat him. The future depended on it, and especially his personal future, because regardless of the final outcome of this battle, in the end, there could only be one winner—him.
"That's why I have to go and inquire about a kid's feelings now," he grumbled with a sour voice, pushing the door of the manor courtyard. "I hope this visit won't turn out to be futile..."
His thoughts then drifted to the latest events, and as always, Dumbledore felt a stab in the heart akin to a dagger piercing his chest. Indeed, it was difficult not to think back to the last Wizengamot meeting where he finally learned the outcome of the trial that had been brought against him, without feeling deep aversion for the entire assembly and a burning sense of betrayal. How could they have dared to condemn him!? He, the venerable wizard, vanquisher of Grindelwald and staunch fighter against Voldemort? Hadn't he saved the magical community from darkness for the past fifty years? Hadn't he allowed wizards and witches to continue their peaceful lives through measures aiming for lasting and certain peace? Where was their gratitude now?! So many questions he asked himself, and only one answer came to mind each time: They were all ungrateful. As for the consequences, he still had a lump in his throat just thinking about Cornelius' smug smile at the announcement of all his convictions.
The Wizengamot meeting, which could now more aptly be compared to a public airing of his recent troubles and which Dumbledore readily labeled as an "unjustifiable debacle," had indeed been disastrous for him, both personally and in terms of the political and social aspects of his once-dominant position in the magical community. Nothing had been spared, and if today his name was tarnished by these scandals in all the country's newspapers, Dumbledore was still satisfied about one thing: No one knew about his ritual against Rosie, nor about the multiple spells of submission and hypnosis used on people in his circle like Sirius and Severus, nor about all his illegal actions predating Matthew's birth. The subsequent convictions had ultimately spared him from a more or less extended stay in Azkaban.
However, his honorary position as head of the Wizengamot had been stripped from him. His colleagues found it inconceivable to have a convicted man in the highest echelons of the government, and his presence was now unwelcome within the four walls of that assembly, which posed enormous problems regarding the influence he had in upcoming votes. He was also heavily fined for his numerous transgressions, and while James, after once again managing to manipulate him, would be willing to pay a portion of these fines from his own resources, Dumbledore took it upon himself to pay a small portion directly and without the consent of the main individuals involved, drawing from Hogwarts' coffers. Failure to pay within the deadlines set by the minister and his government would have assured him a swift entry into the dreaded wizards' prison, and Dumbledore would rather engage in embezzlement than spend time there.
"I'm currently the only barrier against Voldemort, so it's entirely justified for me to ensure the safety of my students and their loved ones by any means necessary to offload this debt... It's for the greater good after all, and it would be very difficult for me to act against Voldemort and his followers while locked up in a cell," was the readily found reasoning to self-persuade himself that he was acting in everyone's interest.
Being the headmaster of a school, even a prestigious one like Hogwarts, did not allow one to live without worrying about future expenses. But no one was surprised by how quickly Dumbledore rid himself of most of the debts weighing on him, perhaps erroneously believing that the old headmaster possessed a substantial fortune. His fortune was, in truth, paltry, and while his position at Hogwarts was fairly well-paid, the financial contributions from James to the Order of the Phoenix, which he had occasionally used, did not provide him with a prince's lifestyle, far from it. The school's money was a windfall for him, and ultimately, it might never be known that a significant portion of his reserves had been used without any qualms by a man seeking only his personal salvation.
Further sanctions were imposed on him, and as the mystery surrounding Lily's disappearance continued to thicken despite the numerous interrogations that had taken place, doubts about his and James' guilt intensified as well. It took very little for both of them to end up in Azkaban, and deep down, he was still surprised that they hadn't gone there. The crime was as perfect as it could be when he thought about it: No body, no witness, no motives... But first, there had to be a crime, and secondly, James' feeble explanations hadn't disturbed the Wizengamot members as much. If only he had kept quiet, the possibility of their accusers leaning towards voluntary disappearance would have been even greater!
Instead, the magical community was now convinced that something suspicious had happened inside the Potter Manor and that both Dumbledore and James were hiding very heavy secrets they were unwilling to divulge. Their salvation was only possible due to the impossibility of their accusers using Veritaserum on them. But the flip side was now this "persona non grata" status that would stick to them for a long time. Now, it remained to be seen how James had received this verdict and, above all, what his feelings were now regarding their collaboration. That was at least what Dumbledore slightly apprehended as he now arrived on the manor's porch, and after a heavy sigh, he decided to quickly announce his presence to James.
Three knocks on the door were enough to be heard because it was a notably tired James Potter who opened it a few seconds later. With drawn features and even more unruly hair than usual, he didn't seem to have slept much in the past few days, unless it was the alcohol, judging by the glass in his hand, that had made him like this. Dumbledore also noted that unlike his usual self, James didn't seem particularly pleased to see him, and if normally he welcomed him warmly, inviting him in as soon as he laid eyes on him, today was different. It was after long seconds of eye contact that he reluctantly shifted to let him in.
The first thing that struck Dumbledore upon entering was the oppressive atmosphere of the manor, as if no one had aired out the different rooms for days, instead allowing the fireplace to spread its warmth into every nook and cranny of the residence. The curtains of the windows had almost all been drawn, making the already unsettling ambiance—if it was still possible—even more concerning for the mental health of the two people living here. As he observed upon entering the living room, James had apparently consumed almost all the bottles of wine, rum, mead, and even vodka, which until then had been considered a medicine to be consumed cautiously, in his manor.
"Please, have a seat," he grumbled, gesturing with a nod towards one of the armchairs.
Dumbledore did not hesitate to take a seat but was unsure about the next steps. Should he further intoxicate James so that, in his state of drunkenness, he would reveal everything troubling him? Or should he, on the contrary, attempt to moderate his alcohol consumption by offering him a less risky drink? The better choice would have been the latter, especially for the balance and safety of the young boy still living here. However, James didn't give him the opportunity to pull out his wand to conjure any beverage, as he managed to find, amidst the empty bottles, a dreg of reddish liquid that he promptly emptied into his glass. A smile momentarily crossed his face as he drank the contents, but it disappeared as soon as he recalled the sad situation he found himself in.
"James, you know it's not good for you to drink so much," Dumbledore attempted, vanishing all the bottles nearby with a wave of his wand.
"Maybe, but it's the only remedy I find to forget, even for a moment, what's currently happening," he grumbled, glaring furiously at an imaginary point above the fireplace. "And as for your kind advice about what I do in my house, needless to say, I'll apply them with much less enthusiasm than before. After all, if we're in this situation, it's partly your fault, and even I can't deny that."
The headmaster and former student now locked eyes, initiating a silent battle to determine who would gain the upper hand and make the other confess their pivotal role in the current unfortunate events. Dumbledore was quite unsettled by this turn of events. He had always believed that James would provide unwavering support, regardless of the situation they faced together or individually. Witnessing the person he considered more of a wallet on legs than a friend defy him and challenge his authority sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. Alcohol might have had a role in this feeble attempt at rebellion, but as everyone knew, it brought out a person's deepest and darkest thoughts, the ones usually kept buried and only revealed in rare circumstances. So, James now had a rather negative opinion of him, and if the son usually mirrored his father's feelings, Dumbledore feared he might face the increasing likelihood of losing the two most important pieces in his game, on top of his current problems. He quickly decided to align himself with this situation's indications, the one that might allow him to limit the damage and keep his assets with him: The card of weakness.
"Maybe," he finally conceded, wearing a pained expression. "I overlooked certain factors in the decisions I made in the past, and things as trivial as your other two children and your wife ultimately turned out to be the main reasons explaining our failures. Know, James, that I won't make the same mistakes in the future, and both you and Matthew remain my main concern for the years to come. Let's not forget that our goal is primarily to prepare your son for Voldemort's return and the war looming on the horizon. And for that, we must put ourselves in the best positions to compete against him. This obviously implies being able, when the time comes, to rally all the forces of our country to our cause, whether physical or political."
"But how do you expect to achieve such a result!?" James insisted, jumping up. "Nobody trusts us anymore! I couldn't even ask a single person at the Ministry to lend me a sheet of parchment!"
"You'll see that when the time comes, people are much easier to manipulate once their attention is diverted," Dumbledore indicated, ignoring the fact that James himself had become nothing more than a puppet to him.
"I sincerely hope so," he grumbled, casting a fleeting glance at the portrait of Lily, torn and damaged in several places due to his temper tantrums. "Oh, forgive me, I forgot my duties as a host... Would you like something to drink?"
"No need to trouble yourself, James," he replied, conjuring two glasses and a bottle containing an amber-colored drink. "I believe you yourself should drink something more... wholesome for your well-being."
Without hesitation, James immediately uncorked the bottle and began pouring for both himself and his former headmaster, occasionally spilling some on the table due to the effects of the beverages he had already consumed. Both remained silent for a few seconds, momentarily forgetting the other's presence as they basked in the warmth radiating from the newly rekindled fireplace.
"I can't believe everyone now knows Lily's gone!" he suddenly raged, gripping his glass so tightly that cracks began appearing on it. "Everything's ruined now! Our reputation, our fame, the influence of our name alone on people... Absolutely everything! Our image in the public eye is completely tarnished after this!"
"What concerns me more is knowing who the mysterious informer was that told the Minister about your wife's disappearance and the means employed to conceal it," Dumbledore calmly voiced, although internally, he was just as angry as the man before him.
"That's the problem: Very few people knew, and those who were brought into the loop could be counted on one hand!"
"That's where you're mistaken, James. The number of suspects is much greater than you can imagine."
"What do you mean? I did as you asked: I only informed Sirius about Lily's departure so that we could think of the best possible solution..."
Dumbledore still doubted that Sirius was the most sensible person to contact for this kind of problem. Furthermore, considering him intelligent enough to conceal a disappearance was laughable. But he suppressed the urge to openly laugh at James's foolishness. Instead, he calmly placed the glass of pumpkin juice he had consumed back on the table in front of him and then clasped his hands over his stomach, fixing a stoic gaze on Matthew's father.
"Yes, Sirius was aware, and given your bond, I am convinced he would sooner die than betray your trust, James. I was also informed by yourself about this sad affair, and Matthew learned about it in a very sorrowful manner as well. Adding to the list, Severus, we have a total of five people who were made privy to this..."
"It's Snape!" James cut in triumphantly. "I should have known! That slimy serpent wouldn't miss a chance to pull a dirty trick on me and—"
"It can't be Severus," Dumbledore corrected him. "I placed a binding spell on him that prevents him from directly communicating to anyone the secrets I share with him unless that person initiates the topic through a specific keyword. So Severus can discuss anything I bring up, but I don't have to constantly remove the spell. Someone would have had to mention Lily's disappearance for him to discuss it, but as I enumerated earlier, the only people aware wouldn't bother discussing it with him in public."
"Okay... But then, who could it be?"
"The primary involved parties, obviously," the headmaster replied.
"You... You mean Lily or one of her children?" James asked, furrowing his brow.
"Perhaps even all three," he supposed, not even pausing at the fact that James hadn't used the word 'our' to refer to the other two children he had with his wife. "It's hard to ascertain at the moment the identity of our little informant, but I suspect, rightly so, that they must be very close to your wife, if not her herself."
"The wretch..." he grumbled, slamming his half-empty glass back on the table.
Its contents spilled onto the surface, and two drops even landed on the headmaster's gaunt cheek, though neither man paid it much attention. Instead, James preferred to focus on the snow falling more vigorously outside, clearly seeing the flakes dying against the panes of his windows.
"We can assume she did this to get back at us for our last retrieval attempt. But it could also be a vendetta from one of her closest friends to whom she might have explained what happened to her. Unfortunately, we probably won't know for a long time, if ever. But I'm convinced the answer lies close to your wife," Dumbledore remarked.
"Well, when I see her again, you can be sure she'll pay for what she's done," James informed, clenching his fists. "She doesn't seem to realize the impact of her actions on Matthew's future! Now that everyone knows she's disappeared, people will gossip freely, and all the trust they had in us is irrevocably shattered! I'm at the point where I have to lock Matthew up in our manor all day to prevent him from hearing everything they're saying about us! Who will take seriously the son of a woman whose disappearance was mysteriously hidden by her own husband for months?"
"I am aware of the difficulties you're facing now, James, and believe me, I'll do everything in my power to assist you and get you out of this mess. It would also be advisable to send a... forceful message to your wife, so to speak... Make her understand, one way or another, that opposing us has its consequences. She'd only draw disadvantages from it, and it's time she realizes that."
"I see," muttered James, relaxing slightly. "Lily places great importance on her relationships with her closest friends," he continued conversationally. "I think we should hit that angle to reach her, since we can't use the children."
"It seems we're thinking along the same lines then," Dumbledore affirmed with a slight smile. "I already have a few potential targets that might suit us, but first, I need to lay the groundwork for our next plan before we can hope to take action."
James simply nodded, understanding the implication and what this plan could mean for the person involved. But the fate of that person interested him no more than the menu of his next meal.
"Do you happen to have news of Remus, James?" Dumbledore suddenly asked in an indifferent tone.
"Remus?" he repeated, looking surprised. "Well... Truth be told, I haven't spoken to him in... for months," he admitted, absentmindedly scratching his head. "To be honest with you, I haven't even thought about him during that time; I don't even know what's become of him... But why this question?"
"For reasons concerning the Order, obviously," he answered evasively. "He's the only one capable of establishing close contacts with the werewolf packs scattered throughout our world. I fear his sudden absence might cause a lot of damage to the fragile ties we've managed to build with them... It would be regrettable if these people joined Voldemort at a time when we're so close to ensuring they'd stay neutral if our conflict were to arise soon..."
"I understand... Would you like me to write to him? I think he'd be very happy to hear from me, especially about Matthew! I could tell him that you absolutely need his services, and—"
"That's kind of you, James, but I've already tried to contact him myself. However, I was surprised to find that not a single one of my letters reached him, and even Fawkes is unable to approach him. It's as if... he simply disappeared too..."
"You mean he's d-dead?" James immediately asked.
"Merlin, I hope not! Nevertheless, the fact that he, like Lily, is unreachable troubles me... The possibility that they might be together is far-fetched but possible..."
James initially appeared perplexed by Dumbledore's words, but an idea quickly took root in his mind, as if the very obviousness of it had suddenly struck him. According to him, if Lily and Remus persisted in hiding, there could only be one possible explanation: his wife and his friend must have been having an affair. His blood boiled, and as his face also began to redden vividly, James simply shattered his glass, ignoring the shards embedding themselves in his skin.
"THE TRAITOR!" he exclaimed, losing control much to Dumbledore's surprise. "I should have known!"
"What do you mean?" the headmaster asked politely, though curiosity gnawed at him.
"It's so obvious! If she left, it wasn't to save herself, it was to go be with that bastard! Him! My own friend! I can't believe it!"
"Don't jump to conclusions too quickly, James," he awkwardly attempted to calm him. "We don't know yet—"
"The fact that he suddenly disappeared," James interrupted, pacing the room, "That neither he nor she can be found, that he didn't try to contact me or give any sign to the Order... I bet that bastard is now living happily with that witch!"
Perhaps the alcohol didn't help clear his thoughts, but Dumbledore found a certain logic in his former student's words. Even he had never considered the possibility of Remus having an affair with Lily, nor had he imagined that this otherwise upright and loyal man could betray him in such a way... He suppressed the urge to laugh at how a simple, innocent question had swiftly sparked this in James. Given his current state, Dumbledore was convinced he could further manipulate and exploit his anger for his own ends.
However, his amusement faded when he noticed James dashing towards the entrance of the manor, grabbing his coat and putting it on hastily, unconcerned that it was poorly buttoned or that his hand was bleeding profusely.
"Where are you going, James?" Dumbledore asked, joining him in the vestibule.
"To Remus'!" he said sharply, grabbing a hat. "I'm certain that scumbag and his two brats are there! Just wait until I get my hands on them! She will pay for what she dared to do! And as for Remus... compared to me, Voldemort will seem like an angel!"
"But—" Dumbledore muttered as James opened the door and hurried outside. "Wait, James, don't go! Please, you can't just leave like this!"
Despite his pleas, James didn't turn back once, never showing a hint of hesitation in his course. Instead, as soon as he crossed the boundary of the courtyard, he Apparated away, leaving behind a director bewildered by his behavior.
"Merlin, sometimes I curse the foolishness of that idiot," he grumbled once he regained composure. "Gryffindors are often seen as people who act without thinking, and this man is the perfect embodiment of that! I didn't even have time to tell him that Remus' apartment had already been searched!"
Only the echo of his voice answered him, and as a sign of James' current foul mood, the front door slammed shut violently in the cold wind outside. Dumbledore found himself once again in the dimness of the house, cold and isolated, devoid of any signs of life...
This last thought abruptly made him look up at the ceiling, above which, calm and surprisingly silent, a nine-year-old boy who had long been the focus of all his attention was present. How could he have forgotten? How could he have overlooked, when he was just a few meters away, the existence of the boy who would be his best weapon against Voldemort? It must be said, the absence of any signs of life in the manor, aside from James, hadn't allowed him to consider this more seriously. Besides James, the house seemed dreadfully grim. Dumbledore even surprised himself by thinking that it was clearly not the environment in which a young boy should live and grow, but reality hit him sharply, just as he suppressed the urge to smack himself for worrying about such trivial matters.
"Homonum Revelio," he murmured quickly, pointing his wand straight ahead.
A swift glimpse into the different rooms of the manor revealed that all the house-elves were confined to the cellars, likely by their own choice to avoid getting too close to their master. Another source of magic, just above him, was also felt, and Dumbledore recognized it as the magical signature of his student. It was truly disheartening to sense the weak power emanating from Matthew, something he regretted bitterly every time he used this spell to locate him.
With a sigh, he decided to quickly climb the stairs to the upper floor of the manor, indifferent to the fact that he rarely ventured into this part of the house and, especially in the absence of the owner, exploring here seemed like an intrusive curiosity, akin to an invasion of privacy. But Dumbledore was now unconcerned with these inconsequentialities, and the thought never crossed his mind. After all, he wasn't there to rummage through his former student's drawers in search of any object. No, his sole objective lay in one of the rooms of the manor, and it was in front of the door to that room that he found himself a few moments later.
As before, Dumbledore announced his presence with three light knocks on the door. A faint and distant "come in" answered him, or at least that's what he thought he heard, as he didn't hesitate to quickly enter his student's lair and witness for himself this room in which he had often passed by without truly taking notice.
What immediately struck him were the size and appearance of it: his bedroom was gigantic, far too large for a boy of his age, and just like the rest of the house, the dominant colors were red and gold, a clear display of the Potter family's attachment to Godric Gryffindor's house. However, it had only been three generations since this family had been sorted into Gryffindor at Hogwarts, as the tradition until then had been to be sorted into Ravenclaw, but Matthew's father seemed oblivious to this, or perhaps he didn't care. From floor to ceiling, from the dresser to the bed sheets, everything bore the same colors, and Dumbledore even found it in bad taste. It was like stepping into a room where a massacre had taken place, and it wasn't hard to imagine that the red adorning the walls and carpet was actually blood.
A demarcation was nevertheless visible in the middle of the room, as if a wall had been destroyed before being crudely covered by a thick layer of paint. Having never had dealings with Harry, Dumbledore didn't for a moment imagine that the other half of the room had once been the eldest Potter son's bedroom and simply assumed it was yet another whim of James' desire for the best for Matthew. Besides, not a single detail hinted at the existence of another boy in the room, and all the memories linking the Potters to Harry had been removed from the room, leaving behind a mountain of toys and objects belonging to his younger brother. Matthew now had so much space that despite the pervasive mess, oddly left as it was by the house-elves, the room still appeared clean and neat, as if every detail had been carefully placed to give the impression of a child's room.
The occupant of the room, long indifferent to the room's decor, had his back turned to Dumbledore, seemingly observing the landscape beyond the window. The headmaster had no trouble using Legilimency against his student, and, in his own admission, delving into Matthew's memories and analyzing his emotions was as easy as opening a drawer. However, Dumbledore was surprised to encounter sudden difficulty as he delved into his mind, as the myriad feelings traversing Matthew's mind created a veritable jumble from which it was impossible to extract any information. Instead, the only thing he could clearly perceive from this brief intrusion was that the young boy before him was particularly prone to very negative emotions, with melancholy being the most predominant.
Dumbledore judged it urgent to set things right before everything he had built collapsed into pieces. The first thing to do was to ensure that his student, or rather his weapon, reverted to the perfect subordinate, the essential pawn in his game that would take him far beyond what the average person could hope to dream.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you?" he asked, disregarding what Matthew might think anyway.
"Mh…" simply responded Matthew without turning away from the window, his eyes fixed on an imaginary point he apparently had no intention of abandoning.
Taking this response as an invitation, Dumbledore didn't hesitate to enter the room and immediately head toward his young protege's bed. The following seconds passed in a tense atmosphere, and evidently, Matthew had no intention of initiating a conversation with the man who had, until now, acted as his surrogate grandfather. Dumbledore contented himself with feigning admiration for the room's decor, even lingering over the pile of dirty clothes near the wardrobe while casting a side glance at the young boy seated next to him.
"It's a very beautiful room you have here," he finally declared to break the silence. "I had never seen it until now, and I must admit, the person who decorated it has a remarkable talent for bringing a room to life."
"It was mom who decorated it," informed Matthew in a dull voice, while Dumbledore repressed the urge to sigh in frustration at this admission. "Dad chose the colors to respect Godric Gryffindor's noble crest, but mom took care of buying and arranging the furniture to spare him the more technical aspects."
"At least she's good at something…" muttered Dumbledore to himself, unheard by Matthew. "I also had a room of this color when I was your age, but the decoration was really different, if I may say so! Tastes in furnishing have changed significantly over a century…"
However, the headmaster fell silent when he noticed that his apprentice wasn't paying the slightest attention, perhaps occupied once again with admiring the decor outside the manor, or simply disinterested in the topic he was addressing. Discussing decoration and woodwork was certainly not the best way to capture the attention of a nine-year-old boy, but Dumbledore immediately sought another approach to dispel this awkward moment.
"You seem preoccupied today," he said, preferring to immediately address the topic that concerned him. "Is something bothering you?"
"Not really, sir," replied Matthew, shrugging his shoulders.
"You know you can tell me anything, Matthew," he assured, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I'm your friend, aren't I? And friends tell each other absolutely everything, even their most intimate secrets… Isn't it me who covered for you when you accidentally broke your grandmother's tureen?"
"Yes, that's true," he agreed. "But I did it unintentionally! My foot got caught in the table's leg, and everything fell to the ground…"
"Don't worry, I didn't come here to judge you for your past actions," he reassured warmly. "What's done is done, and we can't change it now."
"What do you want, Professor Dumbledore?" suddenly asked Matthew. "I doubt you came here to talk to me about my mistakes…"
Though taken aback by his sudden question, Dumbledore didn't let it show, and his carefully prepared speech would now allow him to definitively control his disciple. Perhaps the future was being decided today, a future he hoped would be as clear as spring water for him, and no matter how despicable it might seem to use a young boy for some, he was ready to do anything to achieve his goals. This discussion, in any case, would have significant repercussions for the looming war.
"Matthew, I need to talk to you about something very important," he began with a feigned saddened tone. "You see, I would have preferred to keep this to myself for a long time to spare you from too much suffering, but unfortunately, I can't lie to you any longer, especially when the situation in which we all find ourselves weighs heavily on you. I've just discussed this with your father, and he also agrees that we should reveal certain things to you…"
"What do you mean?" he asked curiously.
"I want to talk to you about your mother and the reasons why she's not with you anymore…"
"I know why she's not here," interrupted Matthew with a sad air.
"Really?" inquired Dumbledore, thinking it might be easier for him to come up with a convincing excuse to tell his young disciple and bring him back onto the path he had set for him.
"Yes… Mom left with Rosie and Harry because… Because I was very mean to her…" he explained, with tremors audible in his voice. "I've never been good to her, to tell you the truth, always demanding something… Always wanting to be in charge and thinking only of myself… Always picking on others and taking advantage of dad's leniency to get my way… Mom was the only one who opposed me in a way. She was the only authority figure in this house who prevented me from going too far in my actions… I used to see her as a mean person who prevented me from doing what I wanted, but now I realize she did that for my own good, like… like a mother, right? I really messed up with mom, and now she… She's gone…"
Dumbledore feared that to his greatest misfortune, Matthew would collapse before his eyes and begin to whine like any child his age. Fortunately, he merely shed his first tears in silence, never uttering the immense pain he had accumulated for months. Perhaps his disciple had more control over his emotions than he thought, but unfortunately, the same couldn't be said about his magic.
"Matthew, that's absolutely not the reason your mother decided to leave your home, and I never want to hear you say again that you misbehaved towards her when she was with you."
"But maybe if I were nicer to her, she would come back, and we could be a family again…" he persisted, looking at Dumbledore, his eyes glistening with tears.
"No, Matthew. You acted as any little boy should act toward the woman who brought him into this world, and sadly, our society doesn't leave room for good sentiments toward women. A man must be firm and uncompromising with them, and your mother failed to understand that. For her, men and women should be on equal footing, should respect each other in the same way, and be as weak as she was because of the feelings they have. By being firm with you, she thought you would eventually absorb these stupid ideas, molding you into the little boy she dreamed of having for herself. Our society, like that of Muggles, is based on a patriarchal model where the man, not only the head of the family but also its leader, and his wife owes him obedience and respect. To challenge this principle is to question the entire foundation of our society, to make the balance on which our ancestors and ourselves have grown and evolved collapse, in a way destroying what makes us individuals, what differentiates us from the people on the opposite side. Your brother was too weak to understand this, and that's why he quickly became the insignificant little being your father preferred to conceal for his safety and reputation."
"But what about the magic he could use without a wand?" he asked, looking confused.
"Simply luck," Dumbledore affirmed. "Sometimes a child can perform such feats when they've stored magic in their core for a long time without being able to control it, commonly known as accidental magic. Your brother was no more powerful than a Squib, and at one year old, you were already capable of surpassing him where he couldn't show anything: Your victory against Voldemort is proof of your superiority over him. That's why your father almost kept his existence hidden from the world. But let's not dwell on such insignificant details and get to the purpose of my presence here."
Fully aware that he had now captured all the hoped-for attention, Dumbledore allowed a dramatic pause before striking the innocence of Matthew definitively.
"It's hard for me to admit this to you, Matthew, but I think it's time you learned it from me rather than continuing to be swayed by false illusions."
"What do you mean?" he asked in a small voice.
Dumbledore took a deep breath, supposedly to give the impression to Matthew that he was trying to summon the courage to reveal a terrible secret concerning his mother, but in truth, he was merely adding drama to the scene unfolding, in which he was one of the main actors, to further lull his protege's suspicion. The effect was convincing, and no one could deny seeing that Dumbledore was a very good actor.
"If I'm so keen on talking to you about the woman who gave birth to you, it's because soon, you'll realize that the image you have of her is mistaken. Your mother… Your mother never loved you, Matthew," he stated bluntly, looking him straight in the eyes.
"W-what?" he mumbled incredulously, eyes widening in horror.
"I'm sorry to break this to you like this, Matthew, but you needed to know," Dumbledore continued. "Lily doesn't love you; she only loves the glory that followed you since your victory against Voldemort. Your mother is, in reality, a very vile woman who cares only about her personal comfort and the opportunities your position could offer her. To her, you're merely a trophy she could flaunt for her own pleasure to reap the best benefits."
"But no… th-that's not like her…"
"And yet," Dumbledore cut in, raising his hand to silence him, "you've only known your mother within the intimacy of your home and the familial framework of this manor. Beyond these walls, you'll see for yourself that people have a very negative opinion of her, and her disappearance moves very few. Lily was a despicable woman that very few people could stand, to be honest. We did everything to shield you from this side of her personality, but recent events now force us to confess this sad truth. She was merely playing a role here, that of the supposedly loving mother who cared for the well-being of her prodigious son, and we realized it too late, blinded by her false kindness and benevolence..."
Dumbledore paused for a few seconds, allowing himself to admire the result of his false revelations through Matthew's horrified gaze.
"Her self-centeredness led her to see only her own interests before those of others," he continued in the same grave and solemn tone with which he could make anyone believe anything, "and her various manipulations in the shadows were solely to help her achieve her goals. You can't even imagine what she was capable of doing to tilt the odds in her favor, and there's plenty of evidence to confirm it. I can't reveal to you all the horrors that your father and I have heard from her mouth when she thought she was alone and safe from prying eyes, but for your own good, it's better that you don't know."
"It's not possible," stammered Matthew as he buried his head in his arms. "I can't believe you…"
"Matthew, I know it's difficult for you to absorb all these truths, but believe me: I'm only telling you this for your own good! I would have preferred to protect you from all this for much longer, but this latest attack from your own mother against your father, and therefore against you, has been the last straw. Slandering you and your father to the Minister and the entire Wizengamot will have terrible repercussions on your future, and I can't accept that. I care deeply about your interests, certainly much more than Lily did, and I can't stand by while she's been dragging you down for weeks now…"
"YOU'RE LYING!" he suddenly exclaimed as tears streamed down his cheeks, his voice breaking. "I KNOW SHE LOVED ME! SHE TOLD ME!"
"Then why hasn't she contacted you?" argued Dumbledore. "Why has she never tried to write to you or let you know where she is? Why did she run away, taking your brother and sister with her, and leaving you behind?"
Unable to understand in what dangerous position Lily was, Matthew was obviously unable to answer these questions, as Dumbledore had astutely supposed. Playing with a child's perception of events was somewhat amusing to him, as he could make the child believe anything he wanted, which he did without hesitation:
"The answer is simple, Matthew: You are no longer of any use to her. She didn't like the person you were, but only what you could provide her. As soon as you started to oppose her, she finally realized she couldn't control you anymore and preferred to flee rather than admit defeat. As you grew older, she would have ended up staying in your shadow without the possibility of taking the spotlight, yet she could have enjoyed an enviable and respectable position. But unlike your father, Lily didn't understand that it was better for her to have that position rather than trying to use you to build her own reputation. She would have gained more by staying by your side, but unfortunately for her, she chose the wrong path and dragged two members of your family with her."
Dumbledore didn't need to use Legilimency to notice at a single glance that his speech hit home: the continuous flow of tears on Matthew's face was proof enough. Satisfied with how things were unfolding, he even allowed himself to deliver the final blow where a nine-year-old's feelings would hurt the most, to definitively destroy the little remaining love Matthew had for his mother.
"Matthew," he continued despite his protege's loud sniffles, "Do you know why your mother took your brother and sister with her?"
"I-I don't know..." stammered Matthew between sobs.
"Because she preferred them over you," he replied harshly, though internally he rejoiced. "Do you even realize that among the three of you, you were always the one she scolded? The one she continuously berated despite your status as the savior of the world? Your brother made just as many, if not more, mistakes than you, yet she always found excuses for his behavior. But you see, the truth is that she always had a preference for them, and deep down, you know that what I'm telling you is true. You have nothing more to expect from this woman, believe me. For years, she has been belittling you, speaking ill of you all the time, and cursing the very day of your birth! The recent events are just the consequences of her destructive policy towards you! That letter, that infamous letter that happened to fall on Cornelius Fudge's desk... What kind of monster could say such horrors about their own flesh and blood? I'm not even sure that the Death Eaters have as much cruelty in them to act in such a way towards their own children..."
Dumbledore wasn't sure if Matthew had listened to the entirety of his monologue, but the goal was achieved: the relationship between his student and his mother would never be the same again, and consequently, this woman would never have any influence over her son if she were to reappear in his life. Who would follow a woman who had despised and voluntarily abandoned him during his childhood? The seed of doubt was now deeply planted in Matthew's mind, and Dumbledore eagerly awaited the first fruits of his labor. As for the female presence that Matthew would still need for his development and well-being, the headmaster of Hogwarts already had a small idea of who would perfectly fit that role, but it remained to be seen if she would accept, which he doubted for a moment.
"Well, I think it's best for you to be alone for a while now, so you can process what I've just told you..." he said after a few long seconds, getting up. "I just hope that you understand the importance of my words and draw appropriate conclusions for your situation. And if you ever need advice, don't hesitate to come and see me, Matthew: My door will always be open to you."
And without further ado, Dumbledore quickly left the room, ignoring Matthew's desperate pleas and calls to his mother. His cries and screams could easily be heard from the other side of the door as soon as he closed it, but to avoid alarming James when he returned, risking contradicting the statements he had just made to Matthew about his mother, Dumbledore deemed it wise to cast a Silencing Charm on the door. With his wand raised, he silently uttered the incantation for the spell, and a thin beam of light shot out to hit the door.
It seemed to tremble slightly, then everything became completely calm. Whether Matthew played on the other side or simply slept, it would make no difference, and conversely, no one could hear his cries of pain and grief anymore. Satisfied, Dumbledore put away his wand, then after one last perfunctory smile toward Matthew's room, he turned on his heel and headed for the staircase leading to the ground floor, now indifferent to the state in which his disciple found himself.
"Ah, children," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm glad I never had any. Besides demanding and crying, they bring nothing good. At least now he can fully concentrate on his studies and use all the soon-to-come hatred against his mother to progress. I look forward to their next meeting..."
And that meeting might come sooner than he thought...
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