The Revealing of Lord Voldemort
Flower petals floated in the water that covered the marble floor of the atrium at the Ministry of Magic. They were transfigured shards of glass that had been weaponized when every single window for ten stories had shattered in a single instant - Albus had deflected the curse before he was run through by millions of little blades.
He battled fire with water - conquering a monstrous flaming serpent that had lunged at him eager to strike with burning emblazoned fangs. It was defeated by an aggressive storm that washed out the atrium and cleansed it of dark magic. Albus stood in its center with his wand waving around his head and a look of total control on his face.
“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, as he shot another flash of green light at him.
Albus turned gracefully on the spot to avoid being struck. His magical abilities were extraordinary and unmatched - though he chose to do no lasting harm.
“I do not seek to kill you, Tom,” he answered calmly, casting a shield charm so powerful that his opponent was knocked off balance.
Smiling serenely, Albus took a moment to smooth down his long snowy white beard as the beautiful song of his phoenix bird filled his ears. Fawkes could always be depended upon to appear where he might be of help. He swooped down and around the two opposing wizards. Risen from the ashes, the phoenix’s rebirth cycle of wholeness and goodness contrasted so magnificently when compared to the horror of what Voldemort had become. People were not meant to live forever, but Voldemort’s greatest flaw had always been that he did not understand that there were so many more things worse than death.
“This is not your time to die - nor mine - I’m afraid,” Albus said, swiftly transfiguring the debris from the crumbling infrastructure falling down on him into some gentle warm rain. “It’s coming though. You must know that.”
“Maybe for you,” Voldemort sneered, hurling out another long range of curses that Albus easily blocked.
Back and forth, they dueled. Man to man - if one could overlook how very little humanness seemed to remain in the resurrected body of Lord Voldemort.
If what Albus suspected he knew about Tom Riddle’s path to immortality was correct, then attempting to kill him right now would fail and only serve to weaken Albus in this battle. It had never been his intention to try and conquer the Dark Lord anyway. As the prophecy declared, - and as Albus intended to see through - that role was reserved for Harry Potter.
“The Aurors are nearly here, Tom,” Albus reminded him calmly, which was exactly as planned.
Nymphadora Tonks had been standing guard and alerted the aurors and the Order for help once the Death Eaters had arrived. She had already been evacuated by Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin - following a very close call with Bellatrix Lestrange.
Now, only Albus remained and his only objective was to delay Voldemort’s departure for as long as he could. Soon nobody in the Wizarding World would doubt the truth of Lord Voldemort’s return and that would greatly diminish his opportunity to operate in secrecy.
“We can finish this now,” said Albus, “you already have what you came here to get.”
Avada Kedavra was cast at Albus and he dodged it again. The curse ricocheted off the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Taking down the last standing statues, a goblin and a centaur, into the pile of golden carnage. The noble figure of a wizard with his wand pointed high in the air had already crumbled and the largest piece of him was lying on top of Bellatrix Lestrange, keeping her trapped in place while she clutched the prophecy protectively against her breast like a dearly beloved newborn child.
“Eventually you will understand why I do not wish to kill you,” Albus said evenly, while he danced around Voldemort with a lightness in his step that disguised his many years of life.
His transfigured flowers rose up from the ground and formed a beautiful protective wall that dwindled from wilting petals as they absorbed any spell intended for him.
“The prophecy you so covet - it will explain why your arrogance, grotesque ambition, and - most importantly - your inability to understand love began the course that shall end with your downfall.”
He heard what sounded like more than dozen people apparating all at once but Albus kept his eyes locked on Voldemort. The mission was completed - the duel did not have to continue. Albus had accomplished what he’d come there for and smiled triumphantly.
Voldemort looked around at all the Ministry officials who were seeing him right now with their own eyes after denying him for the better part of a year. It was the inevitable sacrifice Voldemort had been willing to make in order to retrieve the prophecy currently held in Bellatrix’s hands. It would have been unlikely to make it through the Ministry of Magic entirely undetected but Albus had made sure that remaining inconspicuous was impossible.
“I cannot kill you, Tom,” Albus said quietly, “but I believe someday someone will.”
As quick as a snake, Voldemort whipped his wand through the air and the walls and ceiling of the atrium began to crumble and fall in on itself. People were screaming and ducking for cover. Albus moved fast to block the impact - changing rock into powder which sprinkled upon every witness.
Voldemort had used the distraction to free Bellatrix from her confinement underneath the statue. She stumbled through the debris and water strewn floor in her eagerness to reach her master’s side. She pointed her wand directly at Albus and jeered manically, while her other hand continued to clutch at the prophecy Voldemort had entrusted to her. They vanished into a cloud of black smoke and Albus did not interfere, even as the Minister of Magic finally seemed to regain use of his voice and shouted commands.
“Dumbledore, stop him!”
“It is done for now, Cornelius,” Albus said calmly, turning to look away from the spot Voldemort had just stood. He peered over his half moon spectacles at the sea of people all jabbering rapidly and excitedly about what they had just seen.
“Aurors, if you go into the next chamber, you will find three Death Eaters awaiting formal arrest,” Albus said authoritatively, his high heeled buckled boots clinking on the marble tile as he walked through the puddles on the floor.
The captives were imprisoned in a circular dome of Albus’s own configuration. It had been the work of mere minutes to round them up once he had arrived and Albus sincerely doubted that Voldemort would make any attempt to rescue them. He and Bellatrix were probably very far away from London by now - the prophecy in his possession that Voldemort believed would be the key to everything he wanted to know.
The aurors hesitated, apparently seeming to recall now that Voldemort was gone, that Albus too was a wanted man. But Fudge waved his hand at them impatiently, still looking completely dumbfounded, and they compliantly rushed ahead in the direction Albus had indicated. The Headmaster and the Minister were left alone together - with the sole exception of two Ministry advisors.
“The apprehended Death Eaters are Lucius Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, and Rodolphus Lestrange,” Albus said grimly, coming closer.
“Malfoy?” Fudge sputtered, looking much more unsteady on his feet than Albus, who had just fought an impressive battle that perhaps nobody else would have survived to tell the tale of.
“Yes,” Albus said coolly. “You will recall that Harry Potter spoke to you last year about Lucius being present the night Lord Voldemort returned. You also wrongfully accused Sirius Black in January of helping the other two escape from Azkaban. Now you must acknowledge that it was Voldemort all along.”
He ignored the way a chill seemed to spread amongst the group as he spoke Voldemort’s name. Fudge jumped back so abruptly that he nearly slipped on the watery floor. For a few seconds pause, there was silence, thick with the tension of all the unanswered questions people were yearning to ask the man they had spent the better part of a year smearing and discrediting in every conceivable fashion.
Then Fawkes flew down from the arches above, singing his beautiful song as he landed gracefully in the water by Albus’s boot.
“Marvelous, as always, my dear friend,” Albus told his phoenix fondly, reaching down to stroke the bird’s head with a long bony finger. “Thank you.”
He then straightened up to stare the Minister of Magic square in the face.
“You have now seen proof that I have been telling the truth this entire time. You have attempted to silence me, remove me from my school, and put an attack on my character and credibility. That ends now, Cornelius.”
“Yes, yes,” Fudge said in a wobbly voice, looking around for support, while everyone paid him no notice as they continued to gape at Dumbledore.
“What is it, Fawkes?” Albus asked affectionately, looking back down as the phoenix persistently bumped him with his head.
With the attention back on himself, Fawkes spread his impressive wings and a long red feather floated down to the floor. Albus knew what it was and that it couldn’t mean anything good. He knelt down to pick it up, getting his robes wet as the feather in his hand instantly transformed into a scrap of parchment at his touch. Albus narrowed his eyes as he read the short message quickly, feeling himself weaken with each word.
Professor Dumbledore,
Minerva has been sent to St. Mungo’s after Umbridge and a team of aurors cast four simultaneous stunning spells at her heart. We were able to revive and moderately stabilize her before transfer. She spoke a few words and wished me to tell you what happened. This attack occurred when Umbridge was attempting to ambush Hagrid at his hunt in the middle of the night, though he managed to get away.
Severus Snape
Albus caressed Fawke’s head in appreciation for delivering this message. Then the phoenix took flight again, soaring out of the Ministry through an opening in the broken ceiling. Albus gracefully stood back up with Severus’s note held loosely in his hand.
He pressed his lips together and took a moment to compose what he wanted to say. The sheer audacity of all of them made him feel hot with an anger he’d suppressed for much too long. How dare any of them attack Minerva! How dare they chase Hagrid out of his own home!
“I’ve just received notice that Dolores Umbridge chose to issue an unwarranted ambush on Rubeus Hagrid tonight, with Ministry aurors at her command,” Albus held up the letter. “They attacked my Transfiguration teacher and have put her in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries with a life threatening condition. Unacceptable!”
Albus’s voice sharpened at that final word, and he got grim satisfaction from the way Fudge shifted nervously from side to side on the balls of his feet. Albus’s face was very grave as he stared down his crooked nose at the Minister, who had set a tyrant upon all of them at Hogwarts and made this year as impossible as she could.
Albus was refusing to even consider the possibility that lasting harm could come to Minerva, but he was deeply regretting not taking a firmer stance against Umbridge and the Ministry now. He recalled all the times Minerva had vented to him about how he should be doing exactly that.
“You will order Dolores Umbridge’s removal from Hogwarts immediately, Cornelius,” Albus ordered coldly.
“Yes, yes,” Fudge bumbled, “she will have to go.”
“I want her gone before breakfast,” Albus said forcefully, “and I expect a full Ministry inquiry to be completed for this attempt on Minerva McGonagall’s life.”
“Attempted murder is a little extreme, Dumbledore,” Fudge stammered awkwardly.
Albus looked back at him very coldly and there was no twinkle in his eye now.
“If the Ministry wishes to have my assistance and cooperation going forward in the best interests of how to protect the wizarding community, then you will yield to me on this matter, Cornelius. I demand that Dolores Umbridge face the consequences for her illegal actions.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, he knew that he didn’t have to. Pulling out his pocket watch, Albus took his time examining the planets that ran around it before he stuffed it back into his robes. “I believe I can find time to meet with you tomorrow evening.”
“Tomorrow?” Fudge blinked, who clearly seemed to expect to have the entirety of Albus’s focus from here on out. This was war, this was cause for panic, and the Minister hadn’t the first clue where to begin.
“Now, see here, Dumbledore...”
“Seven o’clock, tomorrow evening,” Albus repeated firmly.
He was calling all of the shots from here on out and it showed. He had no use for the Ministry, but they would never have a chance without him.
“Some of those raspberry danishes your cook prepared the last time I was in your office would not go amiss either - now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I have been away from my school for far too long and I have a member of my staff in hospice that needs to be checked on.”
And with Fudge’s mouth still hanging open in aghast, Albus stepped carefully over some debris from the ceiling and disapparated.
He reappeared almost instantly in a busy waiting room just a few streets over. He could sense every eye in the room upon him as he strode over to the front desk and waited patiently for one of the witches or wizards wearing the lime green robes of a healer to address him. Behind his back, Albus could decipher his name from the muffled whispering that buzzed around, but this was nothing unusual.
“Professor Dumbledore!”
A young healer with his auburn hair tied back in a ponytail walked around the desk.
“Good evening, Qrineus,” Albus smiled warmly at his former pupil. “I believe congratulations are in order - Dilys Derwent tells me that you’ve recently been selected to head the ward for spell damage.”
“Did she now?” Qrineus beamed proudly. “Yes, it only just became official a few weeks ago.”
“A worthy choice,” Albus said kindly. “I still remember how you used to follow Madam Pomfrey around the hospital wing at Hogwarts trying to learn the trade - Is she still here?”
“No, she left about twenty minutes ago,” Qrineus replied, “she helped us get Professor McGonagall settled into her room first though- I presume that’s why you're here?”
“Yes, indeed,” Albus nodded, his smile slacking as he looked serious again. “What can you tell me?”
“It’s not so simply reversible,” Qrineus said quietly. “Not spell damage of that magnitude."
Albus nodded his head quietly as the healer continued his explanation.
"The impact of the four stunners stopped her heart and though it's been revived, it's pumping weakly and then it stops working entirely and needs to be shocked alive again, for lack of a better phrase. We've already had to shock her twice - a vicious cycle that we hope will halt as her heart strengthens with adequate rest and tonic. But I don't expect anything to change overnight.”
“I see,” said Albus quietly. Then he patted the healer on the shoulder. “Well, Professor McGonagall couldn’t be in better hands than yours, Qrineus. Would it be alright if I looked in on her?”
“Yes, sir, of course,” Qrineus nodded. “She’s in room nineteen - just walk down that corridor.”
As Albus followed his directives he was consciously aware of his steady beating heart inside his chest. It had never failed him, despite all the times he had put it on the line. However much he spoke about death not being anything to fear - Albus had never died himself.
He was still alive, having seen and sent countless vibrant young people to their tragic ends before himself. Yet, the thought of Minerva being taken away so abruptly was one he could not contend with. She was one of his dearest friends - counted upon to be loyally at his side, entrusted with secrets he'd never told anyone else. Albus knew that he would be absolutely lost without her.
His confidence wavered and he lingered in the corridor once he reached her room, afraid of what he’d see inside. Tears stung in his eyes when he finally could bring himself to approach her bedside. Minerva was laying on her back with her hands gracefully folded atop the blanket that covered her.
“Oh, Minerva, you deserve much better,” Albus whispered sadly, and it struck him more intensely than usual that they all did.
What he must ask of all of them was the unimaginable - yet he persistently arranged others' lives and positions to fulfil his great plan. Did the end justify the means? Could he contend with destroying Lord Voldemort for good even if it meant sacrificing so many innocent lives?
Sometimes Albus questioned whether he was any better than Voldemort himself. How many people had suffered and died because Albus was concentrated on finishing Voldemort first,
last, and always. When everything depended on the choices you made, it was hard for even the greatest wizard of the age not to have doubts.
“Albus?”
“I’m sorry, Minerva. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he whispered.
“You came?” she looked concerned, with eyes only partially open.
“Of course, I came,” Albus said firmly, reaching over to cover her hand with his own. “There’s nowhere else I’d ever be.”
“But if you’re discovered -”
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Albus smiled encouragingly, “I’ve been reinstated - I’ll bore you with the details later.”
“No - now,” Minerva protested, but her voice was weak and he could see that every breath she took was causing her pain.
Tears were freely flowing down Albus’s cheeks and into his beard but he made no effort to wipe them away. If the whole of the Wizarding World saw him right now they might believe that he was as human as any of them. He got sad, he got scared, and he loved with his whole heart just as much as any of them.
“Albus…”
“Shhh…I'm right here,” he attempted to soothe her, rising from his chair to lean forward and lightly kiss her forehead.
“I'm cold…”
Albus didn't even consider calling for a healer. He conjured the patchwork quilt from Minerva's bed back at Hogwarts and carefully tucked it in around her. He thought if he was sick in the hospital that he'd like to have a favourite blanket from home to burrow underneath.
Then Albus sat himself back down in his hospital chair beside Minerva's bed and decided to remain there until he felt confident that she was out of danger. Nothing felt more important to him than that. The rest of the world could wait.
“It was Umbridge,” Minerva told him a few hours later when she awoke and discovered him still sitting there.
“I know,” Albus stroked his thumb across her frighteningly pale cheek. “She's already been removed from the school and I hope to have her face criminal charges - you won't have to see her again.”
Healers bustled in and out of the room all night with grave faces and little to say. Minerva’s heart was still very weak, they admitted, but it had not stopped pumping since Albus had arrived and they took that as a positive sign. Minerva was holding her own right now.
“Poppy could help me,” Minerva suggested, when she awoke again and expressed a very premature desire to leave the hospital.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible right now,” Albus said apologetically. “I can only imagine how angry Madam Pomfrey would be with me if I attempted to spring you out of here before they decide you’re ready. She still hasn’t forgiven me for the dragons in the Triwizard Tournament last year. So, let’s just take it day by day, hmm?”
When the Healer came in the room in the early hours of morning to feed Minerva her potions, Albus took them off his hands and said he'd prefer to help her himself.
By then, word of Lord Voldemort’s return and sighting at the Ministry had spread everywhere and there was nobody who would refuse Albus anything or even dare to suggest he follow the standard visiting hours like everyone else.
“It all went as we planned,” Albus said simply, once Minerva was well enough to remember that he'd gone to confront Lord Voldemort last night and asked how it went.
He read aloud the Daily Prophet to her in its entirety once the post owl delivered it to him, but though Minerva listened to him attentively, she could not be persuaded to eat anything that the healers tried to tempt her with.
She was drifting off to sleep again, curled on her side with her hand still held protectively in his. And this time, Albus knew he would have to leave to return to Hogwarts. He didn’t feel good about it but he knew Minerva would be remaining at St Mungo’s for the unforeseeable future and he couldn’t remain with her all the time.
“I was so worried,” Minerva said breathlessly, each word requiring a lot of strength to get out.
“You don’t ever have to worry about me,” Albus replied.
“Yes, I do,” murmured Minerva, her eyes closed. “We’d all be lost without you. I can't even bear to imagine--"
“Actually, it’s the other way around,” Albus said, as he kissed her goodbye and reluctantly prepared to depart, “I would be nothing without any of you.”