Chapter 18
Dumbledore stood in his office, his hands folded across his back. He was deep in contemplation regarding the current state of the wizarding world.
Voldemort had returned: There was no doubt about it. But contrary to his expectations, he had not taken any action against the general public. His choice to revive himself through Yor Forger’s pregnancy was a bizarre choice, made purely to take advantage of the Forger family’s close relationship with Harry Potter. He had thought that he could weaponize the relationship to his advantage, but had severely underestimated just how much Harry had preferred living in the Wizarding World. He had been, right from the onset, unable to forge a relationship with Harry Potter. They had never even met.
True, that was mostly due to his own influence… for the past year he had pushed Sirius to distance himself and Harry from the Forgers, and now that Ginny Weasley had made her move the relationship was sure to end. It was essential for his plans to succeed that Harry must distance himself from Anya Forger.
It was time. Harry needed to learn the truth about Voldemort.
The knock came at the door, as expected. Dumbledore turned and smiled.
“Enter.”
Harry Potter stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Good evening, Professor.”
He seemed quite a bit happier than Dumbledore at last seen him. Clearly Ginny Weasley was making him very happy.
“I take it that you are well?” Dumbledore inquired.
‘Yes, Sir.” Harry said. “Um. What did you want to talk about… Professor?”
Doubtless he assumed that he was in some kind of trouble. He had, up until now, kept Harry rather in the dark concerning his destiny. He had been waiting for the ideal moment, but with things the way they were there he would have to proceed, against his better judgement.
“Please, Harry. Have a seat.”
He sat in the wooden chair, staring up at him with wide green eyes. It struck Dumbledore then just how small he looked.
“It is time I told you about your relationship with Lord Voldemort.” Dumbledore began. “I have been thinking for quite some time that it is high time you learned, and understood, just why Voldemort felt the need to hunt you down as a baby.”
Harry stared at him expectantly. Dumbledore was pleased to see that his eyes were steely and determined. He was not a child anymore. He had been right to tell him now.
“You see.” Dumbledore began. “Shortly before your birth, a prophecy was made concerning you, and your relationship with Lord Voldemort.”
He turned to the Pensieve and waved his wand. Out of the milky white liquid, rose the image of Professor Trelawney.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
Dumbledore allowed her to finish her prophecy before waving his wand again and settling the memory down back down into the Pensieve. Harry stared.
“So… that’s why…” He murmured, seeming not quite himself. Dumbledore watched him intently, his eyes focused intently on him.
“Voldemort was after you.” He said, his voice gentle. “Your parents were only in the way.”
It was time to break the news.
“And he has returned.”
Harry looked at him, his mouth wide in shock.
“He has?”
“Indeed.” Dumbledore said. “He has chosen to reincarnate himself in the body of a baby. A baby I am sure you know. Tom Forger.”
Harry gave a start.
“Tom…?”
“Yes.” Dumbledore said, his voice heavy. “Anya Forger’s younger brother.”
“No!”
Dumbledore nodded, appreciating the gravity of the situation. Harry looked at him. “Does Anya know?”
“She does.” Dumbledore said, his voice heavy. “And her family. You see, Harry… The Forgers have always been working for Lord Voldemort.”
“Always?”
“Yes.” Dumbledore said. “By using a muggle family to become close to you, Voldemort has been able to penetrate nearly every form of protection I could provide for you. He was, perhaps, not keen on the idea of reincarnating himself through birth, but all the same… the Forgers have been under his thumb from the very beginning.”
His expression became sad.
“And that includes your girlfriend, Anya Forger.”
Harry blinked.
“Girlfriend…?” He repeated. “She’s just… some girl I know.”
“Ah, I forgot.” Dumbledore said. “Miss Weasley has caught your attention as of late. But as you can see… that is perhaps for the best. You must cut your ties with the Forgers, Harry. They are dangerous.”
He watched Harry carefully, to see how he reacted. Despite the intense love potions that Ginny Weasley had been force feeding him every day at breakfast, it was clear that he was fighting his intense love and affection for the Forger Family. Dumbledore found it admirable. If only more wizards realized the joys of mingling with muggles.
But Anya Forger had become too dangerous. With the assistance of Lord Voldemort, the only man who had even come close to toppling the Empire he had built after defeating Grindelwald, Anya Forger was a very real threat. Her resourcefulness and wit matched his own, and her unique talents and family situation had forced him to consider her a real danger to his long term plans. To establish himself as the martyr of the Wizarding World. Who upon his death would be more beloved than Christ.
Yes… Anya Forger was trouble, all right. But she was one Oblivation away from becoming completely irrelevant. If it had not been for Harry himself, she would never have discovered the Wizarding World, or realized that his interest in Harry Potter could be considered overbearing, even sinister.
But with Ginny Weasley pulling the two apart, it was only a matter of time until Harry began to realize that he and Anya Forger were on separate sides. And when that happened, Anya would lose her only real weapon against him. Her intimate relationship with Harry.
From there it would a simple matter of having her memory altered, and she would undoubtedly go on to cause all manner of trouble for muggle governments around the world.
Harry seemed to be very deep in thought. Dumbledore could hardly blame him. This was an awful lot of information for such a pure, simple mind to grasp. He waited for a moment longer before continuing his explanation.
“Lord Voldemort, by choosing to reincarnate himself as Tom Forger, hoped that he would be able to use your relationship with Anya to become closer to you. To understand you. In the hope of obtaining the knowledge he would need to destroy you.”
Harry hesitated. He seemed to be struggling to decide what to say next.
“But he has done nothing.” Harry said. “Anya loves her brother. She’s told me.”
“Her love is misplaced.” Dumbledore said. “Her trust in her family has led to her downfall.”
“Your overconfidence has led to yours.”
BAM.
Dumbledore reeled. His eyes widened as he clutched at his chest. The bullet had torn straight through his robes and into his chest. He reeled, placing his hands on his chest as Harry stood up.
He realized what had happened before Harry’s hand reached up and pulled off his face. Harry’s face ripped apart to reveal Anya Forger, glaring intently at him through her bright green eyes.
“Surprise.” She said, her voice icy cold. Fawkes let out an unearthly screech and flew forward, talons raised, but Anya adjusted her gun and shot him too, sending him careening to the ground in a burst of flames.
A baby chick poked its head out of the ashes as Anya turned to face him.
“Well Albus.” She said. “That was quite the enlightening conversation.”
Dumbledore glared at her. His blue eyes had suddenly gone ice cold. It was clear to him that he had severely underestimated this young woman.
“How did you get here?”
“Grimmauld Place.” Anya said, a little carelessly, as she flicked some of the sparks from Fawke’s flames from her shoulders. “Sirius showed me how Floo Powder works in case I wanted to someday visit Harry at school.”
Dumbledore bared his teeth.
“He should have stayed in Azkaban.”
“Yes, Sirius has been a rather large thorn in your side, hasn’t he?” Anya said. “He has more control over Harry than you do. It’s why you testified that he was Harry’s parents Secret Keeper to the Ministry of Magic. You wanted him out of the way.”
Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed.
“How do you know this?”
“Oh, I have my ways.” Anya said airily. “Your mind may be closed to me, but your memories…” She waved the gun over to the pensieve.
For the briefest of moments Dumbledore had no idea what she meant. He stared at the Pensieve for a moment, trying to comprehend what she meant. He recoiled in horror.
“N-no…” He breathed. “You… could read my pensieve?”
“Yes.” Anya said. “The instant you summoned that image of Trelawney, I was able to see into your thoughts for the first time. Thoughts, feelings, and ideas that you would never, ever share with anyone. I saw how you miserable you were outside of school. I saw your descent into political extremism, how you sought to become a tyrant. How you betrayed your friend Gellert Grindelwald in order to seize the power he had accumulated in Germany. I saw how you groomed Tom Riddle from a young age to hate muggles, and manipulated him to create a political agenda that was in direct conflict with yours. He became violent, and you used this violence to justify your worldview… and created an artificial savior, one that would establish your philosophy forevermore into mainstream discourse. Harry Potter.”
Dumbledore had gone completely still. Only his eyes were still full of life.
“If this is true.” He said. “Then you know what the next step of my plan is. You are aware that when I die, the public will be made aware it was Voldemort’s doing. I will become a martyr, remembered as fondly as Merlin himself in our world. Harry Potter himself looks up to and admires me… when he defeats Voldemort, he will credit his success with my mentorship. In life he will be hailed as a hero, but in death it will be I who history remembers as the man who unified the wizarding world.”
Anya tapped her gun against the desk.
“You’re forgetting one little thing, Albus.” She said, her voice sickeningly sweet.
“And what is that?”
She raised the gun.
“I care about Harry more than you do.”
She fired. The bullet slammed into Dumbledore’s head and sent him falling to the floor. He was dead.
Anya Forger smiled to herself as she made her way back down the stairs, redonning her Harry Potter mask as she did. Her mind was still whirling with the sheer amount of information that Dumbledore had kept hidden from Harry for years… Horcruxes, Tom Riddle’s diary, and even the true identities of her own parents.
Doubtless she had done the right thing, but a lingering question kept surfacing in her mind… what next? Would Voldemort be able to return to power? Would Harry be forced to fight him? Would he be forced to… die? The possibility, going by what she had gleaned from the Chessmaster’s memories, seemed very likely. But she was determined to not let it happen.
One of her enemies was now out of the game. Now there was only one major threat to Harry’s well being… Voldemort himself.