A Final Word (or Several)
Harry catches Dumbledore as the headmaster is retreating back inside. He has some questions, Harry says and Dumbledore is happy to answer him, even in a public setting.
About ten minutes into the conversation, Harry finds himself incredibly frustrated and then something Dumbledore says implies that none of the things that happened during the tournament truly happened at all.
“So what, it was all in my head?” Harry asks.
“'Of course it was happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” Dumbledore says, a mischievous smile on his lips.
“What?” Harry says, his voice cracking.
“Sorry,” Dumbledore says, twirling his beard, “I suppose that insight may not be the most prudent at the moment.”
“What happened? Is it not really May?”
“No, it is Harry. Voldemort cast deep wounds on this world, on the ancient magic. And we were victorious but it was more wounded than I had suspected. You and your classmates fell into a strange state,” Dumbledore says, his eyes scanning the sky as he thinks of how to explain the situation.
“Yes, yes. Where were we?”
“In a strange dimension. I truly do not know more, Harry. It is not for us to know. But, ah, the feelings – well all feelings are always in our head but of course that doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”
Harry scoffs. “Right.” He’s about to turn away when something stops him. It’s Snape off to the side trying not to be included in a conversation. And something about seeing Snape in that moment sets Harry off.
“Are you surprised, professor?” Harry asks.
“About?”
“That Draco loves me so much? That I love him just as much?”
Dumbledore’s expression changes and Harry, annoyed as he is, feels his chest warm. Dumbledore is going to answer him honestly. He might even really listen to what Harry has to say in return.
“Yes, I am, truthfully. I did not expect Mr. Malfoy to fall in love during his time at Hogwarts. Much less with you. No offense intended. You two never seemed to see eye to eye.”
“That’s true, Albus,” Harry says, trying to channel whatever nerves Draco had found in the hospital wing with Snape, however long ago that actually was. Dumbledore too does not seem offended. “We treated each other horribly. Except, only he ever really got in trouble for it, powerful Death Eater father or not, except when Umbridge was around, of course.”
Dumbledore’s eyes remain tightly focused on Harry. And now that Harry finally has Dumbledore’s attention, everything comes spilling out.
“Did you know that Umbridge made me scar my hand?” Harry raises his hand up to Dumbledore’s eye level. Dumbledore faintly traces the scar and nods.
“I did, Harry,” Dumbledore says, his tone soft.
“I got in trouble for things I didn’t even do that year. But I guess that’s fair, since I never really got punished much before that at Hogwarts.”
“It was not right what Umbridge did to you,” Dumbledore says and it occurs to Harry that Dumbledore never dialogues with him like this. He either monologues to Harry or lets Harry ramble to him while nodding sagely. Harry thinks he may be making Dumbledore feel uncomfortable, guilty even. Perhaps he still could look up to his old mentor, if he is capable of actually apologizing.
“Technically, I did it to myself but I agree. Anyway, death curse and teacher lead torture aside, Draco’s scarred up far worse than I am. The Dark Mark, sure, that’s a curse that will haunt him forever. Did you think he really wanted to do it? That he understood what he was signing up for?” Harry waits for Dumbledore to respond.
“I know that it is unwise for anyone to refuse Voldemort in any way.”
“Was unwise, the bastard’s dead now. Disrespect freely. I killed him, remember?”
Dumbledore simply nods.
“Anyway, you are basically my hero. So I made you an army. And I was stealing Snape’s notes on potion making for … well that’s not important. Snape wrote the sectumsempra spell in there. ‘For enemies’ and Draco was an enemy. Because I grew up dividing people into enemies and allies. And people to protect, of course. Can’t forget all the people I had to protect.
“The point is, I used that spell on Draco and he almost died. But Snape saved him because it was Snape’s spell and so he knew the counter-curse. Snape isn’t a very nice person. I think you might be aware of that, yes?”
Again, Dumbledore nods but he also adds, “Severus is complicated.”
“Yes, yes. In love with my muggle-born mother, huge hard on for pureblood supremacy, a lot of complicated emotions to juggle. Anyway, you gave him a chance. Because he was useful, right? He offered you information.
“Did you know that I love Draco so much my patronus turned into a dragon? Just like Snape’s for my mother. Even under all that hate, Snape was still capable of feeling love. Pure enough to cast a patronus for the one he loved. My love is also pure. I bet my father’s rolling in his grave, considering I just compared myself to Snape favorably. And because we no longer share a patronus. My dad’s dead, you know.
“The point is, Draco wasn’t useful. Not for what you needed at the time anyway. Not that you knew about. But Draco is complicated. Raised by and around Death Eaters, relied on them for providing all his needs. Had a huge hard on for not being tortured. In love with me, for some reason. Why not?
“And I told him I didn’t even want to be his friend because he was a right prat to Ron. But of course, nobody taught Draco how to make friends. I guess nobody taught me either, considering how my Aunt and Uncle abused me. You know, had I become Draco’s friend, I might have tried to join Voldemort.”
Dumbledore’s eyes go wide at this statement.
“I don’t see why you find that surprising. Voldemort hated muggles. Muggles hated me, at least all the ones I was allowed around. The wizarding world loved me instantly and showered me in gifts. It’s not that hard to go from that to me growing up to think muggles are bad. I guess that would have made me even more like him, no? Half-blood, raised without love. Did I ever remind you of Tom? Did you ever worry I’d be like him?”
“No,” Dumbledore says and Harry believes him. Harry notes that Dumbledore flinches at the name ‘Tom.’
“You don’t like when I call him Tom, do you? Do you feel guilty for not stopping him when he was at Hogwarts? You shouldn’t. You can’t tell if someone is incapable of good when they're still a kid. Because it’s nearly impossible to be irredeemably corrupted that young. But Tom was always an over-achiever, wasn’t he? You kept trying. You were right to keep trying, professor.
“But you knew about Draco’s situation. You told me. Not on purpose but it was part of the memories you shared when you wrote me telling me to go kill myself,” Harry says that last bit a little too proudly. He’s crossing the line here but it’s intentional.
“Harry, I never wanted you to die. I am so glad you are here,” Dumbledore tells him.
“I get that it was all for the greater good and I’m glad you did it. Thank-you. I’m not mad at you for that. But that is what you did, you sent a 15 year old a letter telling him to go kill himself. Do you have any idea how weird it is to thank someone for telling you to go kill yourself after having successfully killed yourself?”
“I can’t say that I do,” Dumbledore muses, and Harry can see Dumbledore’s mask returning. Harry presses on.
“You thought there was still good in Tom but there wasn’t. Draco was nothing more to you than a throw away line in your offering to prove Snape was on our side, in case you kicked the bucket. You thought Draco’s only good was born of cowardice but there was so much good there. So much so that after everything he went through, he couldn’t turn evil to save his life. So much love in him that he couldn’t stop loving me to save his own life. Painfully. He was willing to suffer for it.
“He loved me so much that he lied to Bellatrix under risk of death by torture if she found out. And she was the one who taught him how to invade minds. She was quite good at it. She’s dead too, now. And you know, the alternative was to tell the truth, hand me over and let Voldemort kill me. Which he was supposedly all about, according to everyone. But thanks to Draco, I died at the right time.
Dumbledore’s eyes begin twinkling, this time with tears.
“Which, by the way, is what we were asking of Draco this year, weren’t we? To survive until it was the right time for him to die? We even threw a party to celebrate. Draco told Pansy that he was happy to do it. I spied on him. Turns out, I’m a right prat too. Anyway, I heard him say it. He was so happy for the chance to die for a good reason.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore breathes out.
“Draco never asked for help at Hogwarts because no one ever told him it would be found to those who asked. But anybody – any adult with insider knowledge, would have seen it written all over his face.”
Harry can see that Dumbledore might be about to end the conversation so Harry decides that he has one last thing to say to his mentor today.
“Say you’re sorry,” Harry says, “Say you’re sorry about Draco. For failing the boy I am in love with. I saved the whole damn world for you. I died for you. You owe me.”
“Harry, I truly am sorry. For everything,” Dumbledore begins.
“No, be sorry for Draco. For five seconds, care about him as though he were useful to you. For me.”
“I am sorry for not being the person that Draco needed when I was the most qualified person for the job. I will always regret that and I will do better for my students, Harry.”
Harry breathed out.
“Thanks,” he says as he walks away, “it means a lot to hear that from you. I look up to you so much.”
And Dumbledore is sorry. The worst part is once again seeing Lily Evan’s pained eyes as he listens to James Potter’s world renounced sass speak of love, young love, that both parties are so willing die for.
A young love that knows what it truly means to be so willing.
Harry feels the tension leave his body as he walks back to where Ron, Hermione and Draco wait for him. This summer will be hectic and stressful. There is a lot to catch-up on and learn and they also have to make up for the class time they missed. Harry finds himself looking forward to it all regardless.
In Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts, there are many close calls with death. But that isn’t anything new.
It’s everything else that’s new.
In that sixth year, Harry falls in love. Because for the first time, he allows himself to.