Chapter 19: Acceptance
“And then he just threw you out of his office?”
“Yes,” Harry seethed.
“He told you the prophecy had everything to do with you, and then he made you leave?” Hermione asked again, as though she was having difficulty imagining that Snape could be so conniving.
“So “ what do you know about the prophecy?” Ron asked anxiously.
“He’s supposed to protect me,” Harry said shortly, pushing his aggravation aside as he carefully replayed what he had seen in Snape’s mind. “That’s what Dumbledore said anyway…”
“Wait “ Dumbledore?” Hermione repeated quizzically. “Dumbledore “ was in Snape’s thoughts? You didn’t mention that before…”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because he knows the prophecy…”
“What makes you think he’ll tell me?”
“It’s worth a try,” Ron said fairly.
He hated it when they were like this. He wasn’t a child; he could get along without their persistent pestering.
“Look “ I don’t care about Snape’s bloody prophecy. What happened to finding out about Voldemort?” he said edgily.
“Right,” Hermione replied, once again flummoxed with that particular problem.
“Well…” Ron ventured with trepidation. “You could always ask Dumbledore about that, too.”
Harry shot him a glowering look of cynicism.
“Dumbledore has proven in the past that he isn’t willing to tell me anything about what I have to do to kill Voldemort…”
“Which has nothing to do with why he never died - ” Ron said defensively.
“It’s got everything to do with it!”
“Would you stop being so stubborn and just go see him?” Hermione appealed.
Harry gave a grousing mumble. He had not been to see Dumbledore since term had started. He had not seen any reason to. There was no advice to seek, and nothing that the old man could have given him any comforting words of wisdom over.
And underneath it all, Harry had not truly forgiven Dumbledore for the events that had taken place over the past two years. Risks that had been taken, lives that had been lost - all as a result of Dumbledore’s choices. Necessary choices, maybe; and perhaps they were wise, too, but all Harry knew was that part of him felt embittered in respect to it all. And not towards the silver-haired wizard, so much as towards himself, and others, for placing so much faith in a man who was still inevitably human.
“I’ll think about it,” he muttered.
Hermione and Ron shared a concerned look, but conceded. After all, it was better than a downright refusal.
Wednesday morning, Harry found himself lying in his four poster bed, staring blankly out at the world. It was the day after his conversation with Snape, and two days after his revelation about the possibility of Voldemort immortality. It was times like these he always wished desperately for a Pensieve. Anything to make sense of the hurricane of thought that consumed him.
He heard Ron stir in his bed, followed by a tired groan.
“Everyone’s up, already,” Harry said across the room.
“That’s nice,” his freckled-faced roommate murmured from beneath his covers.
“Ron, I want to talk to you “ about Aurora,” Harry pushed.
Ron sat up slowly and propped himself up to squint sleepily at Harry.
“What about her?” he yawned.
“What you said about her possibly knowing Sirius…”
“Yeah. I think she knew him. Just… judging from some stuff I saw in one of my visions. But… I couldn’t really tell you anything more,” he said apologetically.
Harry rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, something he found might have become a habit from all the years his scar had spent prickling, sending him deep into thought.
“I’m sure I’ll learn more, soon,” Ron tried helpfully.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s not important, anyway,” Harry said, pulling his hand from his face and looking earnestly at his best friend. “Perhaps it’s time you stop. I don’t like you keeping this from Hermione… you two are under enough stress as it is.”
“Hermione doesn’t have to be involved in every little aspect of my life,” Ron said bitterly. “As much as she thinks that’s the way things should be.”
“This is not a little aspect, Ron.”
“Harry “ I want to help you, and I want to know who this woman is for my own sake, too! If I tell Hermione about it, she won’t let me do it “ I don’t want her bloody controlling me all the time,” his words trailed off into a mumble as he looped his tie around his neck.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.
“I don’t even know how to properly tie this, myself,” Ron said hopelessly. Giving up, he turned to Harry with a pleadingly worrisome expression painted across his features. “Look, mate “ I know what it feels like to always have someone nagging at you, or trying to tell you how to live your life… but I really think you should go talk with Dumbledore.”
“Yeah, yeah… I know,” Harry agreed. “Perhaps I’ll go right after breakfast…”
“But... won’t you miss your first class?” Ron asked, picking up his book bag as they headed to leave.
“I have Potions.”
“Oh. Well then, yeah. Right after breakfast. Nice plan.”
After a plateful of sausages and much ‘discussion’ with Hermione, who was torn between her frustrations that Harry was to miss Potions and her delight that he was going to go see Dumbledore, the young man with the messy black hair was seen leaving the Great Hall anxiously, heading straight for the headmaster’s office.
“Honeydukes.” He gave the stone gargoyle the password which Ron and Hermione had provided for him, and quickly made his way into the main room, where he found Dumbledore sitting calmly at his desk perusing the Daily Prophet.
“Good morning, Harry,” he said in pleasant surprise. “What can I do for you in this fine morning?”
“I…er… just wanted to talk,” Harry answered.
“Ah… I see,” Dumbledore replied, folding up his paper and placing it the side. “What is on your mind?”
“Where should I begin?” Harry said sardonically.
“I find that when my thoughts are unorganised, it is best to just start speaking and let them find their own way out,” Dumbledore with a patient smile, though he looked upon his student with worry.
“Last night I went to see Snape “”
“Professor Snape, Harry.”
“ “ Professor Snape. Yeah, sorry. Well, er… yeah, I went to see him because… I wanted to ask him about…something.”
“What was it you wanted to ask him about?” the aged wizard asked, perceiving the young man’s struggle with his thoughts.
“Voldemort,” Harry mumbled. He hadn’t wanted to discuss this part quite yet and there was a slight look of curious astonishment on Dumbledore’s face at this confession.
“Voldemort?” he repeated.
“Yes.. see “ I was working on this little theory on why he didn’t die,” Harry said, no longer looking Dumbledore in the eye. “And… I went to Sn “ Professor Snape, to see if he could… er… confirm some of it.”
Dumbledore did not chastise him for his investigation of Voldemort, but nodded, prompting him to continue.
“Well, when I was with Professor Snape “ he wasn’t being a lot of help, so I thought I’d… see what I could… find out myself.”
“By means of Legilemency,” Dumbledore understood.
“Yes, Professor,” Harry acknowledged.
“I will assume that you were successful in penetrating Professor Snape’s thoughts, and that what you saw is the reason you are here this morning. Am I correct?”
“Well, part of the reason. But, yes… that’s right.”
“Very well then, what is it you saw, Harry?”
“Something about a prophecy. About Professor Snape… protecting me.”
“Did you ask Professor Snape about what you saw?”
“Yes, Professor. He… threw me out of his office.”
A tiny grin tugged at the side of Dumbledore’s otherwise serious countenance.
“Well, Harry, if you came to ask me about the details of the prophecy, I’m afraid I must tell you that it is not my place to divulge such information “ just as I have not told anyone the details of the prophecy that concerns you.”
“Oh. Well, that makes sense,” Harry said, slightly let down.
“However, since you are already aware of its existence, I do feel there is something about this prophecy that you are entitled to know, and which I can tell you of…”
Harry looked questioningly at Dumbledore, wondering what he could possible tell him about the prophecy that didn’t involve the message itself.
“The prophecy was made to Professor Snape at the end of last year, just before you and your fellow classmates were abducted to the Death Eaters’ headquarters. The Seer who prophesied to him was Miss Weasley.”
Harry’s green eyes grew wide, and his mouth opened to speak, but he found it impossible to conjure words. He had witnessed as Ginny foretold her first prophecy, but never did he assume their might have been another instance of her Seeing abilities in the short time that she had remained of their world.
“It seems,” Dumbledore said sadly, “that Miss Weasley was only just coming into her powers before she passed. It is an incredible tragedy; I image she possessed extraordinary clairvoyant talent.”
They were quiet a moment; Harry did not know how to react, while Dumbledore decided to give him a chance to let the knowledge sink in before continuing.
“I trust you will relay what I have told you to Mr. Weasley?” he asked eventually.
Harry merely nodded.
“Well then, I would like to return to something you said earlier, Harry.” Dumbledore proceeded austerely. “About Voldemort, and what it was you were seeking confirmation about.”
“Yes, that’s actually another part of why I came to you.”
“What, if you don’t mind my asking, is this theory you have formed?”
“I think that Voldemort was already dead… before the night he killed my parents. That… somehow, he used magic that made him immortal.”
“Very wise, Harry,” Dumbledore said reluctantly. “Your theory is a very accurate interpretation of the truth.”
“So “ you know, then?” Harry asked in disbelief. “Why Voldemort never died the night he came to Godric’s Hollow?”
“I must admit so,” Dumbledore answered slowly. “My knowledge is actually one of the many reasons I trust Professor Snape. You see, he had spent so many years in service of Voldemort, that he knew many of his secrets; secrets, which upon his desertion of his dark master, he entrusted to me. Of course, I did not want to tell you, because “ I must warn you, Harry “ there are parts of this mystery that you truly must unlock for yourself, otherwise, things will not be as they should.”
“I don’t understand…”
“You won’t understand. Not until much has passed. But… for now, I suppose I should explain to you what I can.”
Harry nodded, pushing aside his confusion in his eagerness to learn the truth that lingered so close.
“You are right; Voldemort did pass into death long before the night you destroyed his body. He long studied the Dark Arts, aspects of it unheard of by common wizards, and in his studies he put together pieces that provided what he believed to be the answer to immortality.
“Voldemort brought death upon himself. He was so blinded by his greed for eternal life, he sacrificed the only true life he ever had, and ever would have. The preparations had already been made, however, to bring him back into tangible existence.
“As I believe you already know, Harry, a wizard, upon his death, can decide to pass on to the next world, or remain among those still living but only as a shadow of their former self. Such a choice is made out of fear, and Voldemort possessed that fear. The fear that he would be no more. And so, Voldemort chose to end his mortal life knowing that, in his fear of death, he could stay on as a ghost.
“He then used a series of potions and spells, all of Dark Magic, to anchor his spirit to this world and join it with a physical body. He was not, like most, a spirit with a body, but a ghost with a body. And so Voldemort became what he believed to be immortal. A killing curse kills only the body, not the spirit, but because his tangible spirit forged with a body that was not truly alive, such a curse would not truly destroy him.
“Unfortunately, not all his calculations were entirely correct; he did not foresee that his body would be destroyed, along with the physical forms of his spirit, and he would be left in the form with which he roamed the earth many years after his fall.”
Harry felt his mind whirl as the truth he had longed for finally became clear. One question immediately begged to be asked.
“What about his new body? Is that the same?”
“Ay, there’s the rub, Harry,” Dumbledore answered proudly. “For the body he has now is not the same as the one he created long ago to impersonate life. This body is alive, and from what you told me, is very much one with his spirit. He is once again mortal flesh, and is one again vulnerable to mortal death.”
Harry felt relief wash over every inch of his being, but it evaporated slightly as Dumbledore continued.
“There is one condition, however. You see, some of the precautions he took against mortal death are still in place, and will have to be dealt with.”
“And what precautions are they?” Harry asked anxiously.
“Phoenix feathers are essential to all magic dealing with rebirth and immortality,” Dumbledore explained carefully. “You and I both know that the tail feather of Fawkes resides within Voldemort’s wand “ and so it is that very feather that helped secure Voldemort’s protection from death; it is that very feather that allowed him to be reborn that night in the graveyard.
“You see Harry, if Voldemort is killed tomorrow or any day after, he will simply be reduced to his spirit form again. From there he can rise once again “ or any number of times for that matter.”
“But you said he was vulnerable to a mortal death…” Harry said, overwhelmed by the disorder in his thoughts.
“Vulnerable, yes. It will, however, still take some doing. If I or any other person ended Voldemort’s physical life, he could simply return again. However, there is one wand that can vanquish him forever… it is the wand that is twin to Voldemort’s, the wand that also contains the tail feather of the same phoenix that began this. It is your wand, Harry.”
Harry swallowed hard has he felt fear overtake him. The finality of Dumbledore’s statement reminded him of the true meaning of his burden. It truly was up to Harry to destroy Voldemort.
“So, that’s the only way about it, then?” he asked. “My wand… has to kill him.”
Dumbledore nodded slowly, watching the troubled young man with great sorrow and pity.
“There isn’t another way?” Harry asked.
“You will be the end of him, Harry,” Dumbledore said carefully. “I cannot say if there is another way, only what I told you before: you will know what to do when the time comes. And only after that will you understand why I cannot impart upon you all my knowledge.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Harry thought in aggravation.
“Harry, I know I am fallible “ but I must ask you to trust me.”
The burdened hero looked at the sincerity of the wise man’s eyes behind his half-moon spectacles, and felt rejuvenated in his faith for the mentor. Blinking back tears of fear and frustration, he slowly nodded his acceptance that one day he would understand.