“P-P-Professor?” Potter gasped, staring, shocked, down into the hat.
“Yes, Harry, it’s me,” Dumbledore replied calmly.
The sound of his voice startled Potter. “But…how?”
“Do you remember when, I believe it was in your second year, that you and Mr. Weasley hid in Hagrid’s cottage?” Dumbledore asked.
“Yes…” Potter was having trouble using more than one-syllable words.
“I seem to recall saying that I would only truly be gone from Hogwarts when none there were loyal to me.”
“Yeah, I remember that…” he was recovering a bit now.
“So here I am,” he said simply. “Well, not in Hogwarts, persay, but alive-in some form.”
“How?” Potter breathed, amazed.
“It’s a very complicated charm. I don’t suggest you try it. If not performed correctly, the side effects can be disastrous.”
“Does Voldemort know you’re here? In his Horcrux?”
“No, I was able to conceal myself from him fairly easily,” Dumbledore replied. “He’s getting a bit careless.”
“But-when did this happen? Is he making more Horcruxes?”
“Goodness. Calm down, Harry. Focus on the task at hand.”
“And what task is that?”
“Destroying this Horcrux, of course.”
“What? I can’t! Professor, I can’t do that! You’d just be gone again. I won’t.”
“You must,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “But you’re right. You cannot.”
“I…uh…what? What do you mean?”
“Getting rid of me is not the obstacle here,” Dumbledore said. “I should be gone. This is not natural, and it’s not right for me to stay like this.”
“I disagree,” Potter muttered, “but then what’s the obstacle?”
Dumbledore’s eyes looked up to the silver mist. “That.”
“The mist.” A pit of nausea curled in Potter’s stomach. “What does it do, exactly?”
“Well, it’s quite an alarming thing, actually, a very intricate charm-”
“Professor.” Already Potter felt sick to his stomach. “What does it do?”
“Put plainly, it takes away your magic.”
“My magic? As in, I can’t do any spells anymore?” He wondered vaguely if his friends, outside the cellar, could hear him. “That’s not possible.”
“It is, I promise. Try a spell, anything, and see what happens,” Dumbledore suggested.
Tentatively Potter placed the hat on its side so Dumbledore’s face was still peering out. Then he lifted his wand. “Lumos!”
Nothing happened. Nothing at all.
Paralyzing terror swept through Potter’s mind, immobilizing him. “This can’t be happening,” he murmured. “Is there any way I can get my magic back?”
Dumbledore sighed. “There is one.”
“What?” Potter asked eagerly.
“There can be a-a transferring of power, if you will,” Dumbledore explained. “In other words, somebody could give you their powers. That exchange isn’t terribly complicated; I’m sure Miss Granger would be up to it.”
“I can’t make someone sacrifice their powers for me,” Potter said.
“You have to,” Dumbledore said. “You are, as you know, the only person capable of defeating Voldemort.”
“So if somebody gives me their powers…can they get magic back?”
“No,” Dumbledore said bluntly. “They will not be able to.”
Potter banged his fist against the wall, defeated. “I can’t ask my friends to do that for me!”
Dumbledore smiled gently, the old twinkle in his eye returning. “I’m sure they will offer. You won’t have to ask.”
“But I can’t,” said Potter helplessly. “I’d feel guilty forever.”
“That’s something you’d have to live with, then,” reasoned Dumbledore. “I think you’d survive.” Was there a hint of annoyance in his voice?
“Okay, fine.” Potter picked up the hat, cradling it under his arm. “Let’s go, then. I can’t destroy the hat myself. Ron or Hermione will have to do it.” He hesitated. “Will it hurt you?”
Dumbledore smiled again. “Probably. But I’ll live.” He gave a chuckle. “Well, actually, I guess I won’t.” Then his expression grew stern. “Remember, Harry, once I’m gone, you cannot waste any time. Get magic. And go defeat Voldemort.”
Potter swallowed, then met Dumbledore’s gaze, determined. “I will,” he promised. “Count on it.”
“That’s the Harry I remember,” Dumbledore approved. “Now let’s go and see who is willing to give you their powers.”
* * * * * * * * *
Potter took a deep breath, then launched into an explanation. Malfoy, Granger, and the Weasleys were sitting on the couch before him, waiting impatiently for him to tell them what had happened in Snape’s cellar. Dumbledore, in the Hat, was lying on Ginny’s lap. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, as if to say, Go ahead, tell them!
“Well…the mist is…bad,” he said.
“Shocker,” said Malfoy sarcastically. “Come on, Potter, out with it!”
“Okay, look. I had to do Side-Along Apparation for a reason,” Potter said. “And it’s because when I walked through that mist, it took away my magic.”
Confusion broke out, as he’d expected.
“What do you mean?”
“How?”
“What about Dumbledore?”
“Can you get it back?”
“Please, listen, everyone,” Potter said. They quieted at once. “Dumbledore says there’s only one way I can get my magic back-if somebody gives me their powers. But the catch is, whoever does that can never get it back.”
He surveyed the group, dreading their answers. They were silent-he could tell that they were all, probably with the exception of Malfoy (because why would Malfoy make that kind of sacrifice for him?), considering life without magic.
He sighed heavily. “It’s okay, guys. I’ll find somebody else. You don’t have to do it.”
Granger was already crying, and even Ginny looked teary-eyed. Weasley’s expression was grave. “Harry,” he said in a low voice, “I’ll do it, it’s okay, you need magic more than I do”I was never very good at it anyway””
“No.” Potter was firm. “No, I’ll need your help.”
Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. If Potter needs Weasley, he’ll need Granger, and the other Weasleys…which leaves me.
Surprisingly, he considered it. Life without magic…ouch. No, Potter can find somebody else. He tried to push it to the back of his mind, to forget about it.
But the thought just wouldn’t leave him alone.
* * * * * * * * * *
The next day, the atmosphere in Grimmauld Place was, well, grim. Granger, Weasley, and Ginny had all offered their magic to Potter, as he’d known they would. Of course they would. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t live with that on his conscience for the rest of his life.
He’d locked himself in the attic of the house with the Hat, and was pacing furiously, trying to think. Dumbledore was watching him. He’d started out patient, but with each passing second, he was growing more and more restless.
“Harry,” he said gently. Potter didn’t hear. “HARRY! Stop pacing, please. You’re making me dizzy.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I just have to think.”
“You are running out of time.” Dumbledore’s voice held no more vestiges of patience. “Take somebody’s magic. I realize this is difficult for you, but you have to do it.”
Just then there was a soft knock at the door. “Who is it?” Potter called wearily.
“Me,” a voice called. Not a voice Potter had been expecting.
The door opened. Draco Malfoy walked in.
Potter closed his eyes and sighed. “Malfoy, this had better be important, because I swear, it it’s something stupid””
“It’s important.” Malfoy’s voice was quiet and soft, very unlike his normal arrogant drawl.
“Oh.” Potter was a bit taken aback. “What?”
“The magic…” he trailed off, cleared his throat, and started again. “The magic. I can, um, you see, if you wanted, my magic, I could…”
The words were jumbled, but to Potter, the meaning was clear.
“Your magic?” he asked incredulously. “You’re offering me your magic?”
Malfoy nodded, staring at the floor. A red blush crawled up his cheeks.
Potter was now very taken aback. He would have never expected Malfoy to do something like this.
“Okay,” he said. “Uh. Thanks. A lot.”
“Well, I, um, what I mean, is””
“Oh, stop stuttering,” Dumbledore cut in. “What you mean is quite clear. I quite appreciate the gesture, and I’m sure Harry does, too. Thank you very much, Malfoy. Now, if you would please destroy me already…”
“Now?” asked Potter.
“Yes, now. No time like the present,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “Now, Mr. Malfoy, please. One last little spell. A simple ‘Reducto’ should do the job. As I mentioned to Mr. Potter, Voldemort’s getting a bit careless. This is a rather shabbily made Horcrux, I must say.”
Malfoy raised his wand. Something inside him stirred. This could be the last spell I ever do, he realized. At least it’s for a good cause.
“Reducto!”
Malfoy’s last spell was a good, strong one. It reduced the Hat to ash. As the ash crumbled to the ground in a small pile, green vapors rose out of it, dissipating with a slight hissing sound. Among the green vapors were small silver wisps. Potter instinctively knew that that silver was Dumbledore, and that he was truly gone now.
With a quick Evanesco, Malfoy cleared away the ash. Then, resignedly, he turned to Potter.
“Okay, Potter…let’s do this little…thing.”
The two of them resolutely walked out of the attic to go find Granger, neither of them quite knowing what was about to take place, but they both knew that whatever it was, at least it would help get rid of Voldemort once and for all.