Hubris
Harry sat next to Neville during breakfast. During all meals, really, when he wasn’t hiding in the kitchens. Luna sometimes joined them as a buffer. Since his forced revelation, Harry Potter has a boyfriend had been big news. Theories and rumors ran wild. He’d overhear things like can’t believe Potter’s a poof, and Harry Poofter, and didn’t realize he was a pansy, among many other flattering comments.
If he hadn’t been who he was, subject to years of vicious gossip, attacks, bullying, smear campaigns…If he hadn’t been so inured to the opinions of others, he didn’t know how he’d put up with it. It wasn’t that many people, but it was bad enough he had to hear it at all. Most people just kept trying to guess who his mysterious boyfriend was.
Theo was keeping his head down, but he always kept his head down.
“I wish you would tell us,” Hermione said for the umpteenth time. She was sitting across from Harry and Neville. Harry was just trying to get through the meal. Again.
“He doesn’t have to tell you, Hermione,” Neville said, sounding exhausted by her. “Can’t you just leave it alone?”
“I don’t understand why you don’t trust us,” she went on. “You haven’t talked in ages about your lessons with—” she cut herself off, glancing at Neville.
“Nev knows I’m having lessons with Dumbledore,” Harry said. “Kind of hard to hide with all the notes he gives other people to bring me.”
“Right, well, you haven’t mentioned those at all. We don’t even know what he’s been teaching you.”
“Hermione,” Harry said, picking up his tea. “I can’t tell you. I can tell you that there’s been a…breakthrough of sorts. I’m making good progress.”
She smiled at him. “That’s great! Does your boyfriend know? He’s the one I met, right?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, Hermione, we’ve been through this.”
“Hermione, honestly,” Neville said. “Please, drop it. You’re on his case every day.”
“Someone has to be,” Ron muttered nearby. “Tells his boyfriend everything but not us.”
“Oh, piss off,” Harry said. “Do you know how dangerous it would be for him? If I went around bragging about him—which I would love to do, by the way, he’s a bloody genius! You think his life is worth less than you being placated? Come off it, Ron.”
Ron shoved himself away from the table and walked off angrily. “Git,” Harry muttered into his cup. He looked up and saw Hermione watching him with worried eyes. “What? Are you going to say he’s jealous again?”
Hermione hesitated, then said, “Actually, yes. We thought we were your best friends.” Then she stood up and left as well.
“Don’t listen to them,” Neville said. “You’re right, it’s more dangerous for the people closest to you. They’re targets too, even if they don’t realize it yet. Anyone who associates with you is.”
“I know,” Harry said. “He’ll do anything to get to me.”
Harry sat in the common room, not wanting to be run out no matter how much he’d prefer to be elsewhere. He stared out of the window, looking over the grounds, a half-complete Herbology essay set aside.
“Harry, I want to talk to you.”
Hermione sat down across from him. Harry cast a muffliato around them.
“Where did you learn that spell?” she asked. “What does it do?”
“It makes a sort of buzzing sound to people listening in, like a conversation they can’t quite hear. I’ve learned a lot of spells,” he finished, looking out of the window again. “It was something an old student created. I found a book of theirs. Don’t worry, I tested it all, reverse engineered some of them. I’m sure I have the arithmantic charts somewhere…”
Hermione’s eyebrows had shot up, but she waved her hand. “We can talk about that later. I feel like this is fifth year all over again. You’re doing things we—Ron and I—don’t know about.”
“I am,” Harry admitted. “There are things I don’t want to tell anyone.”
“Like being gay?”
Harry laughed a little. “No, I don’t care about that so much as who I’m dating. He…” Harry didn’t know how to explain it without revealing too much. “If it helps, Dumbledore knows who he is. So does Sirius.”
“That’s good,” she said. “It’s good you do have people you can talk to, even if it’s not us…”
“I killed someone when I was eleven years old,” Harry said abruptly. “I knew what I was doing. I knew what would happen when I grabbed Quirrell. I held his face and I watched him burn alive, watched him turn into dust.”
“Harry—”
“Do you know what that’s like, Hermione? To have to live with killing one of your professors with your bare hands? When you were eleven?”
“No,” she said quietly. “I don’t.”
“Everyone expects me to kill Voldemort,” Harry continued. “Everyone expects me to murder a man. Are you willing to do that? Are you willing to look someone in the eyes and watch them die?”
“There are other ways,” Hermione said. “You’ve talked about it in Defense! There are ways to deal with people without injuring them, or killing them!”
“I almost killed Malfoy a few weeks ago,” Harry admitted. Hermione put a hand over her mouth. “I used a spell that sticks your tongue to the roof of your mouth, but I put too much magic in it. He started suffocating. I did it because he was trying to use crucio on me after I found him crying in a bathroom.”
Harry turned to look at her. “I don’t have the option of bringing Voldemort in quietly or whatever it is you’re thinking. I wasn’t fully honest when I told you and Ron about the prophecy. It says one of us must kill the other. Either I die, or he dies. There is no way out of that. He’s not going to stop trying to kill me, Hermione, or anyone who stands against him. He’s terrified of death, of the possibility that I can defeat him. He’ll go after you, Ron, Sirius, my boyfriend, our families. Anyone. No one is safe. Sirius told me I had to think about the kind of magic I could use, and the kind of magic I would be willing to use. I suggest you do the same.”
After a while, Hermione got up to leave.
Harry sighed, then picked up his essay.
“Harry?”
“Yeah?” he said, looking up. A lower year boy was handing him a scroll. “Thanks.”
Harry unrolled the parchment, seeing it was a note from Dumbledore asking him to come to his office as soon as possible. Frowning, Harry gathered up his things to take to his dormitory. The urgency in the note rattled him. He put his school things away and found his journal, letting Theo know what was going on.
He walked to the headmaster’s office, ducking a still irate Peeves, but stopped when he heard a crash and a scream. He got his wand out and ran forward, slowing down when he got to a corner. He looked around and saw Trelawney sprawled on the floor with broken sherry bottles. Harry hurried over over to help her up, fixing the bottles and checking her for wounds.
“Are you alright, professor?”
As she started to talk about ill omens, he noticed a tapestry of dancing trolls.
“Were you trying to get into the Room of Requirement?”
“Oh, I got in all right,” Trelawney said, glaring at the wall. “But there was somebody already in there.”
“There was?”
Trelawney had heard someone whooping with glee, before being blinded and thrown out of the room. It could only have been Malfoy completing his repairs of the Vanishing Cabinet. This was bad.
“We should tell Dumbledore,” Harry said.
“The headmaster has intimated that he would prefer fewer visits from me,” she said coldly.
“I was just on my way,” Harry said. “I’m sure he’ll listen this time.”
As they walked, Trelawney complained. About portents, about Firenze, about why Dumbledore let her teach if he thought she was a joke, about her job interview…
“...And I remember I was starting to feel a little odd, I had not eaten much that day… but then…but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!”
Everything stopped.
“Snape,” Harry repeated. “Snape overheard the…your interview.”
“Yes! There was a commotion…”
Harry listened to the story of Trelawney losing time while making the prophecy, Snape listening in and getting dragged out by Aberforth, about Dumbledore hiring her on the spot.
Snape, the man who had contributed to how difficult his time at Hogwarts had been, who had been friends with his mother, delivered the prophecy to the man who killed her. Snape couldn’t have known who it would refer to—neither could Voldemort, not unless he assumed approaching meant will be born—but he must have known after the fact. Snape had a hand in the deaths of Harry’s parents, and still treated him like...
Harry took a breath. “We’re here, professor.”
Harry gave the password to the gargoyle, and they rode up the stairs to Dumbledore’s office. He knocked politely on the door, and entered when Dumbledore called out.
Dumbledore stood next to the window with a traveling cloak in his arms, gazing across the grounds set ablaze by the setting sun. Fawkes sat on his perch, smoldering, watching them with keen black eyes.
“Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me.”
“Professor Trelawney heard something interesting in the Room of Hidden Things,” Harry said. “Could you tell him what you told me, professor?”
Harry stood back as Trelawny hiccuped and repeated her story, adding in the impending calamity and disaster. She left disgruntled when Dumbledore dismissed her again.
“You know what this means,” Harry said to him. “She isn’t actually a fraud. Malfoy has fixed the Vanishing Cabinet. Someone in that room attacked her. There needs to be people here. Aurors, the Order, the other professors, I don’t care!”
“I believe I have found a horcrux,” Dumbledore said.
“Yes, I inferred that,” Harry said irritably. “I want proof that this school will be protected in your absence.”
“Do you think that I have once left the school unprotected during my absences this year?” Dumbledore said. “I have not. Tonight, when I leave, there will again be additional protection in place. Please do not suggest that I do not take the safety of my students seriously, Harry.”
Harry clenched his teeth together. He was living proof that at least one student’s well-being was unimportant, however much Dumbledore bloviated.
Harry eyed Dumbledore shrewdly. In the past the castle had been attacked when Dumbledore was gone. Was this planned? He couldn’t see how they’d know Malfoy would finish the Vanishing Cabinet today…
“This will be exceedingly dangerous, Harry,” Dumbledore said.
Harry breathed noisily. He hadn’t told Dumbledore about the diadem yet. He didn’t want to be judged by the man, or hand the withered artifact to him.
“I understand,” Harry said shortly.
He was angry. Angry at learning about Snape and all its implications, angry at how cavalier Dumbledore was about leaving the castle. Angry how Dumbledore had withheld knowledge of Snape’s starring role in making him an orphan, making him live with the Dursleys, making him the victim of a prophecy that would see him either dead or killing one of the most powerful and ruthless wizards alive.
He would deal with Snape later.
Dumbledore looked closely at him, a crease in his brow.
“What has happened to you?”
“Nothing,” Harry said. “I’m just worried about what’s going to happen tonight.”
Dumbledore waited for more, then said, “Very well, then. Listen. I take you with me on one condition, that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question.”
“I understand.”
“I mean that you must follow even such orders as ‘run,’ ‘hide,’ or ‘go back.’ Do I have your word?”
“You have my word. I don’t think we need an exhaustive list.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Do you recall what I told you when you said you should have been placed in Slytherin?”
Harry thought back. It was right after he had killed the basilisk and pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat. “That I had qualities Salazar Slytherin looked for in his house. Resourcefulness, determination, and a certain disregard for rules?”
“I believe you have taken the latter to its logical extreme, my dear boy. Now, I wish you to go and fetch your invisibility cloak and meet me in the entrance hall in five minutes’ time.”
Harry headed back to Gryffindor Tower. Knowing—suspecting—what Malfoy had done, he didn’t want to leave people unprepared. He had to tell Theo, though he would likely be safe in the dungeons. Hermione and Ron…would they even listen to him?
He saw them as he raced through the common room and into his dormitory. He quickly wrote a note to Theo and called Dobby.
“How can Dobby help Harry Potter?”
“There may be trouble tonight,” Harry said. “Draco Malfoy has done something that might put the school at risk. Can the house-elves help protect the students? Keep an eye out? Especially around the Come and Go Room.”
Dobby had a serious expression. “Dobby will warn them. Dobby will protect Hogwarts!”
“Thank you. Keep yourselves safe too. You know the hidden ways out of the castle if people need to run.”
After Dobby left, Harry found his second wand, his enchanted glasses, a plain robe. He already had his cloak on him. And he got the Marauder’s Map. It was a powerful tool, and other people needed it more.
He went back down to the common room. “Neville, Hermione, Ron, I need to talk to you three.”
“What is it?” Hermione asked. “Harry, are you okay?”
“No,” he said, casting a muffliato around them. “I’m leaving the castle with Dumbledore. He told me there are extra protections, but I don’t know what they are and I don’t trust them.”
“Harry—”
“Listen! I’m supposed to be in the entrance hall. There is a possibility Death Eaters will come into the castle tonight. I don’t have time to explain! I want you to warn people, warn DA, use the coins, I don’t care, but you need to be prepared. They are likely coming in through the seventh floor, near the tapestry of the dancing trolls. There’s a secret room up there. It doesn’t show up on the map.”
“What map?” Ron asked.
Harry spread out the Marauder’s Map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
The map came to life, showing all of the castle, all of its inhabitants.
“Harry, what is this?” Hermione asked.
“The Marauder’s Map, created by my dad and his mates. I want you three to keep an eye on things. To clear the map, you say mischief managed.” Harry checked his watch. “I need to go now. I know I haven’t given you reason to…I know you may not like me lately, but this is life or death. Take the map, keep it safe, keep each other safe.”
He hesitated, then took out the Felix Felicis he always carried. His life was protected by prophecy. Unless he ran into Voldemort that night, Harry wasn’t going to die. He had to believe that.
“Take this,” he said, handing it to Hermione. “Share it.”
“No!”
“I don’t need it, I’ll be with Dumbledore.”
Harry left them, racing to the entrance hall, hoping everything would be okay.
Dumbledore stood by the doors, turning as Harry pelted down the staircase.
“I would like you to wear your cloak, please.” Harry flung it over his head. “Very good. Shall we go?”
Harry followed him outside. “I had a question.”
“Professor Snape told me about your refusal to call him ‘sir,’” Dumbledore said lightly.
“Sirius says I’m an anarchist,” Harry replied. “Then again, he was listening to the Sex Pistols at the time.”
“I’m afraid I am not familiar,” Dumbledore said. “What is your question?”
“Does the stone work?"
Dumbledore didn’t quite stumble. “Which stone are you referring to?”
“The Resurrection Stone, one of the Deathly Hallows.”
“And how did you come to hear about that?”
Harry sighed, annoyed. “You showed me Marvolo Gaunt saying that stone had the Peverell coat of arms. It’s on a grave in Godric’s Hollow. I saw it while visiting my parents’ grave, and I looked into it.”
“Did you,” Dumbledore said quietly.
“So, does it work?”
“I’m not sure, Harry,” he said.
“You didn’t use it? What about your sister and your mother?”
Dumbledore paused to look down in Harry’s general direction.
“I saw their graves too,” Harry explained.
After a moment, Dumbledore said, “Nothing can bring back the dead, Harry.”
Harry noticed he didn’t answer the question.
They passed through the gates flanked by winged boars, up the deserted road to Hogsmeade as darkness fell like an ax. At the Three Broomsticks Madam Rosmerta was throwing someone out, and they continued to the Hog’s Head.
“Your brother owns this place,” Harry pointed out. “Does he hate you because of that fight?”
Dumbledore sighed wearily. “You know a surprising number of things, Harry. We won’t be going in tonight. We’ll be apparating to our destination.”
“Great, where to?”
“A cave near the seaside. Now, place your hand on my arm, I will guide you.”
Harry did so, twisting as they apparated
They landed on an outcrop over dark water, waves breaking against rock, buffeted by chilled air coming off the sea. Above was a clear night sky, reflected in the water below. Behind them was a sere cliff, broken in places where chunks had fallen into the water, deeply shadowed by the night.
“I like it here,” Harry said. “Are we going to the cave Tom tortured those kids in?”
Dumbledore sighed again. “Yes. I imagine he forced them to climb down to terrorize them.”
“That would do it,” Harry said, looking around. “Makes me wonder what was done to terrorize him. People aren’t born monsters, you know.”
“No,” Dumbledore said. “We often create our own worst enemies, as Voldemort did with you.”
“And as Grindelwald did with you?”
Dumbledore gave him another searching look.
“I thought about owling him,” Harry added. “Do they allow visitors at Nurmengard?”
“They do,” Dumbledore said shortly.
Frowning at his tone, Harry followed him to the edge of the rock and began climbing down.
“I would advise against meeting Gellert,” Dumbledore said. “He is not the man I once knew. Lumos. Do you see that?”
Harry looked at a fissure in the cliff. “We have to swim through. Good thing Theo taught me how.”
Harry took off his cloak and tucked it away, watching with some amusement as Dumbledore executed a beautiful dive and swam forward. The cold water stole Harry’s breath, but he had been in the Black Lake and knew once he got moving he would quickly acclimate. As he swam, the fissure became a tunnel, continuing deep into the cliff. How a child discovered this was a mystery. Maybe he had heard rumors in town. It seemed like the kind of place teenagers would dare each other to explore.
They reached a pair of steps that led to a cave, and Harry clambered up them, freezing and soaked to the bone.
“Can we use magic?”
“We may,” Dumbledore said, turning around. “This is just the antechamber…”
Harry cast drying charms on himself, and at Dumbledore since the old man was distracted. He was tracing the wall with his fingers, sensing the magic the cave's enchantments thrummed with. Harry watched Dumbledore point his wand at the wall, and an arch like a doorway was lit up. Harry moved closer to stand next to him, observing.
“Theo is good at things like this,” Harry said. He thought about different ways to unlock things, because this was surely a locked thing. A spell, a password, an incantation, a ritual, a sacrifice. Harry held his tongue, though he suspected it was the last. It was the sort of thing Voldemort would think of, an aversion to so-called dark magic.
“Oh, surely not. So crude,” Dumbledore said after a few minutes.
“Does it want a sacrifice?” Harry asked blithely.
To his credit, Dumbledore didn’t react. “Yes, a payment of blood, if I’m not mistaken.”
“It could be worse,” Harry said. “Much worse. Unless it’s more than blood it takes?”
Dumbledore pulled out a small silver knife and cut his hand, splattering blood across the stones.
“That seems to have done the trick,” Dumbledore said, healing himself. The arch flared up again, revealing a now open doorway.
“He probably would conjure an animal to open it,” Harry said. “Or have brought a muggle or something.”
“Indeed. Now, after me,” Dumbledore said, walking through. Harry trailed behind, curious about the mechanism of the cave. So far it was a much more elaborate set up than the diadem.
“I found the diadem, by the way,” Harry said. They had reached a vast, dark lake of still water. A green light shone from somewhere, reminding Harry of the Chamber of Secrets.
“Harry…”
“I stabbed it with a basilisk fang. I got extras when I was down in the Chamber. What’s in the water?”
“We can discuss the diadem later,” Dumbledore said. “Now, we will walk along the edge of the lake. Do not touch the water, and stay close to me.”
“I found it in the Room of Hidden Things. That was Theo’s idea.”
“It seems Mr. Nott has been a good companion to you,” Dumbledore said amiably. “As you clearly know, I too was once close friends with a charismatic young dark wizard.”
Harry snorted. Theo was the least charismatic person he had ever met. “Yeah, his aunt told us. Theo doesn’t have the motivation to take over the world, he just likes magic.”
“You don’t deny his interest in the dark arts?”
“He has diverse interests,” Harry hedged. “His mother went to Durmstrang. I don’t think it matters what you use, so much as how it’s used. Don’t you agree?”
“To a certain extent,” Dumbledore said. "Aha."
Dumbledore came to a stop. Harry noticed it too. There had to be some way to safely cross the water. A bridge, or a boat. Harry wondered if they could get across on a broom.
"I think I have found the place."
"Yeah," Harry said, narrowing his eyes. "There's something else in the water."
Dumbledore grabbed something invisible, then tapped his hand with his wand, revealing a thick copper chain, aged with verdigris. With another tap of the wand, the chain began drawing up. Eventually a small boat emerged in the same ghastly green shade as the chain.
"This is so convoluted," Harry said. "Can we even both fit?"
“Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it.”
"Do I not count?"
"You are underage, and unqualified. It is unlikely your powers will register compared to mine."
"How comforting. But that does corrobate the muggle theory."
Harry climbed into the boat, squeezing himself so Dumbledore could fit as well. He looked into the water as they traversed the lake, and saw a pale white hand near the surface. He inhaled sharply.
"Inferi. The water is filled with inferi."
"I'm afraid so, Harry. Victims of his, I would suspect."
"Harder to burn when they're soaking wet," Harry said, still looking into the water. The lake was massive. There could be hundreds.
“Nearly there,” Dumbledore said cheerfully.
The boat reached a small island of smooth dark stone. At the center was a basin, set on a pedestal, emitting the green light. As they approached, they saw it was filled with an emerald liquid. Harry watched Dumbledore reach his blackened hand towards it, only to be stopped by an invisible barrier.
Harry listened as Dumbledore explained why the liquid in the basin, an unknown potion, must be drunk. He conjured a crystal goblet with which to do so, and gave Harry the task of forcing the potion down his throat if it came to it.
"Voldemort would not have done this himself," Harry said. "Why not conjure an animal to drink it? Would that be too easy?"
"As you concluded in the antechamber, and from the bodies in the lake, I imagine Voldemort would bring a muggle he had captured to drink this. Now, you remember the condition on which I brought you with me?"
"Of course," Harry said, "but this is a cruel thing to make me do. I would guess this magic requires the intention for the potion to be drunk. If I don’t intend to have you drink it, it won't work." Harry closed his eyes. "I'll make you drink it, but I won't forgive you for this."
"I am sorry, my dear boy." Dumbledore scooped up the potion with the goblet, filling it to the brim. "Your good health, Harry."
He drank another, then another. Halfway through the fourth he staggered forward against the basin.
“I don’t want…Don’t make me…”
"Fuck this," Harry said. "Accio Dumbledore's wand."
Strangely, nothing happened. Guessing there was an anti-summoning jinx on it, Harry patted around Dumbledore's robes until he found the old man's wand.
“...don’t like…want to stop…”
It was an odd, grayish thing made of unfamiliar wood. Not having time to examine the wand, knowing there was no chance this would work if Dumbledore was in his right mind, Harry cast the spell.
"No…"
"Imperio. Keep drinking the potion."
Dumbledore's torture expression slackened, and he finished his goblet and took another scoop. He twitched and moaned, as if caught in some terrible nightmare.
"Nothing bad is happening," Harry said. "You're just thirsty. It's just water. You want to drink it, you told me yourself. Stop talking and drink. Everything is fine."
Harry didn't know if Voldemort would enjoy the screaming or get annoyed by it. If he did, he would probably just silence the victim and let them suffer. Dumbledore let out little shrieks, muttering demands to kill him, the Imperius fighting both the potion and Dumbledore's own will. It was a disturbing thing to watch, and Harry didn't know if it was better or worse than picking up the goblet himself and forcing Dumbledore manually. The result was the same either way.
When the basin was empty, Harry released the spell and Dumbledore fell onto his face. Still using the man's own wand, Harry rolled him over.
"Water," he gasped.
Harry filled the goblet with an aguamenti and helped bring it to his mouth, but the water vanished. Trying to cast it directly into Dumbledore's mouth had the same result.
Harry looked at the still lake around them, half listening to Dumbledore's pleas for water. There was no chance he would be touching that water.
"Dormio."
Dumbledore passed out, which was the best Harry could do for him. Harry walked to the basin and found a gold locket within. He hooked the chain around Dumbledore's wand, and lifted the locket to his face. It wasn't as large as the one Merope wore, and it lacked the Slytherin stylization.
"It's a bloody fake," Harry said, suppressing the urge to laugh. He looked around the cavern, at Dumbledore's collapsed body, at the tiny boat, at the lake filled with inferi.
"Hubris," Harry said to the echoing cavern. "Kreacher?"
With a pop, Kreacher appeared. "Kreacher was just making Master coffee when young Master—"
Kreacher stopped dead. His expression was a rictus of terror.
"Master Regulus," he gasped, then started crying.
"Kreacher!" Harry knelt down to comfort the elf.
His big, watery eyes looked up at Harry. "Why has young Master brought Kreacher to this place? To punish him for his failure?"
"I would never punish you," Harry said firmly, hugging him. "You know that. Dumbledore brought me here to get something. I needed to take us back to Hogsmeade because he is injured."
"Headmaster drank the potion?" Kreacher said in a harsh voice.
Harry frowned at him. "He did. We can talk about what happened here later. It's dangerous." Harry looked at the water again.
"Kreacher knows. Kreacher will take young Master and Headmaster to Hogsmeade."
They landed in front of the Three Broomsticks and Kreacher vanished. Harry had no idea what was going on with the house-elf. Kreacher had obviously recognized the cave, and it had something to do with Regulus, who Harry knew had been a Death Eater. Had he helped Voldemort set up the cave? Was he killed for that knowledge?
Hogsmeade was dead this late at night. Next to him, Dumbledore was laying on the ground, asleep, as still as a corpse. Harry knelt down to check his breathing.
Harry turned to the sound of running footsteps, still holding Dumbledore’s wand. It was Madam Rosmerta, hastening down the street in her slippers and dressing gown.
“I saw you apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn’t think what to—but what’s wrong with Albus?”
“He’s sleeping off an injury. I need to get him back to the castle. What’s the matter?”
“You can’t go up there alone! Don’t you realize...haven’t you seen?”
Harry looked towards Hogwarts, and his entire body went cold. Above the school was the Dark Mark, the skull and the serpent writhing out of its mouth, blazing green in the sky. “Fuck me. How long?"
“Only a few minutes, I was putting the cat out…”
“Rennervate!”
Dumbledore woke with a gasp. “H…Harry?”
“We’re in Hogsmeade, professor, and the school is being attacked.”
Dumbledore struggled to sit up, and Harry lent an arm to help him.
“We need to return to the castle at once.” He was trying to stand, clutching Harry’s shoulder painfully. “Rosmerta…we need transport…brooms…”
Madam Rosmerta looked terrified. “I’ve got a couple behind the bar. Shall I run and fetch—?”
“No, Harry can do it.”
“Accio Rosmerta’s brooms!”
Two brooms burst out of the Three Broomsticks; Harry would worry about property damage later. They waited nearby, hovering.
“Rosmerta, please send a message to the Ministry,” said Dumbledore, as he mounted the broom nearest him. “It might be that nobody within Hogwarts has yet realized anything is wrong…Harry, put on your Invisibility Cloak.”
“Here’s your wand,” Harry said, passing it over. “It fell out when we apparated back.”
Dumbledore glanced at him, but didn’t question this explanation. Harry threw the cloak over himself and climbed onto a broom. Harry kept an eye on Dumbledore as they flew, ready to catch him should he fall, but the headmaster had a look of intense focus, leaning into the broom’s speed, racing towards his castle.
It was a horrible thought, Death Eaters having run of the school. Harry had done what he could to protect his friends, given them the tools he had. He felt a mind numbing fear for Theo, but he was a Death Eater’s son. That would protect him, if nothing else.
The Dark Mark hovered above the Astronomy Tower, and that is where Dumbledore led them, muttering as he undid enchantments that would have barred brooms entry to the grounds. They landed on the ramparts, and Dumbledore clutched his chest with his dead, blackened hand.
“Go and wake Severus,” Dumbledore said faintly but clearly. “Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else, and do not remove your cloak. I shall wait here.”
Harry went for the door, but heard footsteps coming towards them. He looked back at Dumbledore, who waved for him to retreat. Harry got out his wand, his alder wand, and did so. He didn’t know what kind of spells he would need to use.
Someone burst through the door and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”
Dumbledore’s wand flew out of his hand and off the tower, falling to the ground below.
Harry felt himself get petrified, and he tipped back against the wall. The only one who knew where he was would be Dumbledore. For some reason the old man didn’t want him involved. Harry still had his wand in hand, and he fiercely thought of the counter. He wasn’t going to be a sitting duck. He didn’t believe Dumbledore would lose hold of his wand so easily, even after petrifying Harry.
Harry watched Dumbledore, sickly under the garish light of the Dark Mark, and he said, “Good evening, Draco.”
And it immediately became clear what was happening. Dumbledore was going to die.
Malfoy stepped closer, looking around, eyes landing on the two brooms. “Who else is here?”
“A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?”
Malfoy looked back to Dumbledore. “No, I’ve got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight.”
“Well, well. Very good indeed. Did you use the Vanishing Cabinet?”
Malfoy looked at him, stunned. “How did you know?”
Dumbledore smiled at him. “A little bird told me. Now, where are your compatriots? Forgive me, but you seem rather unsupported.”
“They’re having a fight down below. They won’t be long…I came on ahead. I—I’ve got a job to do.”
“Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said softly.
Harry watched them, waiting. If Draco didn’t do this, Harry knew Snape would. He wanted to go find Theo, help his friends, but he was trapped in this bizarre scene, unwilling to leave until it resolved.
“Draco, Draco, you are not a killer…”
Harry sank slowly to the floor, listening as Dumbledore gently tried to talk Malfoy down. Why he didn’t want this teenager to kill when Harry was forced to, Harry didn’t know. Harry’s first kill had been at eleven. At fifteen months, if one believed it had been a toddler that killed Voldemort all those years ago. But, consciously, when he was eleven. Then again at fifteen. He knew some people had died in the Department of Mysteries, or were horribly injured. But Malfoy was the one Dumbledore wanted to spare.
When Malfoy started talking, Harry knew Dumbledore had won. Malfoy explained about fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, how no one else realized—Harry rolled his eyes at that. Dumbledore told Malfoy he knew about his feeble attempts at murder, that Snape had been keeping an eye on him, that Dumbledore trusted Snape. Harry wondered who the fool was in that, Dumbledore or Voldemort. Perhaps Snape was playing them both. To what end?
Rosmerta, as it turned out, had given Katie the necklace. Harry was surprised Draco managed to Imperius her, and worried that his own order to Malfoy had the effect of making him work harder at performing the curse. Rosmerta had also poisoned the mead for Slughorn. Malfoy had picked up some ideas from Hermione, like enchanted coins and using potions, which Filch couldn’t detect. Harry winced at that. It was another reason he had stopped sharing things with Hermione. She had no discretion, like at the Hog’s Head.
Rosmerta had seen them leaving the school, and tipped off Draco. So Dumbledore hadn’t known something would happen tonight. Perhaps that’s why he wanted Harry to fetch Snape, not to kill him but to help with the cave’s potion. The Dark Mark was used to lure Dumbledore to the tower.
The sound of fighting below escalated. Harry closed his eyes, gripping his wand.
“I haven’t got any options!” Malfoy said, pale as a sheet. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!”
“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” Dumbledore said. “Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you.”
The same reason Harry had held back. He may as well have killed Malfoy himself if he interfered. He told what he knew to someone he hoped would act on it, and Dumbledore hadn’t. What were the Malfoys weighed against the safety of the school? What was Harry’s life weighed against their entire world?
“...I can help you, Draco.”
Harry rubbed his scar.
“Come over to the right side, Draco…”
Harry imagined Voldemort making him that offer. What the wraith said his first year.
"Better save your own life and join me...or you'll meet the same end as your parents.... They died begging me for mercy…”
Malfoy gaped at Dumbledore. Harry didn’t know why he didn’t just kill the headmaster. He had a whole year to work up to it. He knew Malfoy was mostly talk, banking on his family’s social status to protect him. What happened to being a willing servant of the Dark Lord?
“But I got this far, didn’t I?” Malfoy said slowly. “They thought I’d die in the attempt, but I’m here, and you’re in my power. I’m the one with the wand. You’re at my mercy.”
“No, Draco,” Dumbledore said quietly. “It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now.”
Malfoy’s wand was shaking. Harry would have laughed in Dumbledore’s face if their places were switched.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and four Death Eaters in black robes pushed past the still gaping Malfoy.
Amycus Carrow, Alecto Carrow, Fenrir Greyback—who Harry would kill purely because he had made Lupin more annoying—and Corban Yaxley. Fenrir professed a fondness for children. Harry wasn’t sure what sick shit he was into, but that Malfoy had opened the school to a proud child predator was revolting, intentional or not.
The Death Eaters tried to goad Malfoy into killing Dumbledore, as somewhere below people tried to break into the Astronomy Tower. But Draco wasn’t going to kill him.
“We’ve got a problem, Snape.”
“Severus…” Dumbledore said softly.
Snape strode out of the darkness, pushing Malfoy out of the way. He had an expression of hatred, of revulsion, as he looked at Dumbledore’s slumped form.
“Severus…please…”
Harry held his breath.
“Avada Kedavra!”
The green light struck Dumbledore in the chest, knocking him over the battlements. He was dead well before he hit the ground.
“Out of here, quickly,” Snape said, grabbing Malfoy’s neck and forcing him to move. The others followed them out, Yaxley last.
Harry petrified him for someone else to deal with, then hurried to the brooms. He mounted one and flew down to Dumbledore’s body, putting away his cloak.
It wasn’t a pleasant sight, though the darkness obscured most of the damage. Dumbledore’s body was broken. There was no other word for it. Crushed by the force of his fall, limbs snapped and twisted. Harry grimaced at the sight, then searched around for his wand. He found it some distance away in the grass and tucked it into his robes. He didn't want some Death Eater taking it for a trophy.
Summoning the broom to his hand, he flew towards the gates.
He waited, hovering in the air. Soon he saw three figures racing towards him. Snape, Malfoy, and a large blond man Harry recognized as Thorfinn Rowle. Harry stunned him and watched him fall to the ground, then quickly disarmed Draco, losing track of where the wand went. He didn’t care. Snape was trying to run and Harry had questions.
He moved just as Snape turned to his location, casting a shield to deflect a hex. He was already exposed.
“Going somewhere?” Harry asked, landing and casting aside the broom. “Run home to mummy, Draco, I have no time for you.”
“Run, Draco,” Snape said, not taking his eyes off Harry. “And what do you intend to do, Potter?”
“I know you planned this with Dumbledore,” Harry said, staring back at him, ignoring the shouting and screaming and flash of spells from the castle. “I have no idea whose side you’re really on, or if you’re on any side at all. I have no illusions that I can beat you in a direct fight. What I want to know is why the fuck you told Voldemort the prophecy, a prophecy that resulted in my mother begging for her life! I saw her die! I remember it! She was your friend!”
Snape looked furious, even more than he did when he had killed Dumbledore.
“You know nothing!” Snape spat at him, reviving Rowle who got up, angry. He stumbled off towards Hagrid’s hut. Malfoy was scrambling around for his wand.
“Do you want to know what it’s like to hear her begging for her life?” Harry shouted at him. “Do you want to know what it’s like to live with that? Or did you get enough of it when your father beat your mother? What was her name, Eileen?”
“How dare you, you insolent—”
“You’re just like your father, aren’t you?” Harry shouted, grinning cruelly. “You’re exactly like him! Bitter, cruel, abusive—”
“Silence!”
“It’s your fault she’s dead!”
Snape’s wand slashed through the air, crashing against Harry’s shield in blinding sparks. “Does that make you feel better? Beating children? Just like your father?”
Hagrid’s hut was burning now, Fang barking up a storm, trapped within the building as Hagrid bellowed in rage.
Snape flung more spells at Harry, trying to get him out of the way. Harry noticed none were lethal, but painful, angry, frantic as the fight moved towards the fleeing Death Eaters streaming past. Draco was gone, Rowle was gone, it was just Snape and Harry backing towards Hagrid's burning hut.
"Go," Harry shouted. "Run like the coward you are!"
"Don't call me a coward!" Snape screamed, slashing his wand viciously.
Harry was too slow, thrown back by the burning lash. He pushed himself up, saw Snape bolt for the gates.
"You may be able to hide your mind from your Dark Lord, but you can't hide it from yourself! Coward!"
Harry stood, panting, watching as Snape twisted and vanished beyond the gates. Hagrid was still shouting for Fang. Harry turned to the hut and began to douse it with water as Hagrid stumbled out, carrying the massive boarhound.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
"I'm fine," Harry said, wiping his eyes. He'd get his answers if he had to rip them out of Snape's mind. "Get you and Fang to Madam Pomfrey, I'll put this out."
"Nothing Dumbledore can't fix," Hagrid said gruffly. "What happened?"
"Malfoy let Death Eaters in the castle," Harry said, directing the water. "I watched them confront Dumbledore. I saw Snape kill him."
Harry heard Hagrid's denials, stopped the hut from burning and stood watching the charred wood smoke. He could imagine it like this had they let Hagrid keep Norberta the Norwegian Ridgeback.
People were coming out of the castle now, in pajamas and dressing gowns, frightened and confused.
"What are they all looking at?" Hagrid asked. He had a head injury. Harry didn't know enough healing magic to help with that. "What's that lying on the grass?"
Harry put his wand away.
"See it, Harry? Right at the foot of the tower? Under where the Mark…blimey…you don't think someone got thrown?"
Harry trailed Hagrid to the front of the crowd. He had already seen it. He had seen it all.
Hagrid fell to his knees, his cries of denial, of grief, echoing against the tower above.
"Harry!"
He turned his head, seeing someone push through the crowd. He was shocked to see who it was.
"Theo?"
Harry had never seen him so discomposed, and was further surprised when he was seized in a hug.
"I thought you were dead."
"I can't die yet," Harry said, hugging back.
"Or injured."
"I'm fine. What are you doing?"
"Your boyfriend disappearing into the night and the Dark Mark appearing above your school puts some things in perspective."
"What perspective?"
"He needs to go to the hospital wing," someone interrupted. Harry looked over and saw Ginny approaching them. "McGonagall's orders. Everyone's there."
Harry followed Ginny through the crowd, holding Theo's hand. "Was anyone else killed?"
"No," Ginny said. "There are some injuries, though. That luck potion really saved us, it was like they couldn't land a hit…"
Ginny fell silent.
They walked into the hospital wing. Neville was asleep on one of the beds. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Tonks, and Lupin were gathered around another bed. Hermione saw Harry and ran over to hug him. Harry had to let go of Theo's hand, but Theo didn't move away. Lupin started forward too.
After gently pushing Hermione away, he walked closer to the other injured person. It was Bill, who looked like he had been put through the shredder.
"Greyback?" Harry asked. "Lucky it wasn't a full moon."
"They are still curse wounds," Theo said quietly. A few people looked at him, confused by his presence. Harry took his hand again.
“Dumbledore might know something that’d work, though,” Ron said. “Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore’s orders, Dumbledore owes him, he can’t leave him in this state—”
“Ron, Dumbledore’s dead,” Ginny said.
"No!" Lupin collapsed in a chair, disbelieving.
“How did he die?” Tonks whispered. “How did it happen?”
"Snape hit him with a Killing Curse and he fell over the battlements." Harry knew it was planned, Snape killing Dumbledore. He had heard Dumbledore asking him to. He knew about the Unbreakable Vow, and Dumbledore's insistence to trust Snape. Whatever Snape was doing, Harry didn't want to compromise it. Know about it, get answers from Snape…
Harry gripped Theo's hand. He has been so…he shouldn't have called him out on the lawn. But Snape was running, and Harry didn't know if he would ever get the chance again. Years of abuse from him, only to find out he'd been the one to tell Voldemort about the prophecy. He owed Harry the truth.
People started crying. Fawkes began to sing. He explained the basics of what happened again to McGonagall. They all began to argue about Snape. Harry bit his tongue. Dumbledore likely foresaw this, the consequences of Snape killing him, Snape's loyalty to Voldemort unquestioned. If he was truly, why had he been so reluctant when Hagrid overheard them in the woods? Did no one realize how manipulative Dumbledore had been?
The story of what happened during the fight washed over him. He pressed into Theo's side, wanting to leave.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came in and he took his chance, leaving the hospital wing with Theo while they were distracted. Harry led him back through the castle and onto the grounds, where people still gathered around Dumbledore's corpse.
"Where are we going?" Theo asked.
"To catch a phoenix."