Dying with Grace
Despite Voldemort gaining followers and control throughout the rest of the country, Hogwarts would remain unattainably out of his reach for the time being. Though many parents had already expressed misgivings about sending their children back to school in September during these dangerous times, the general consensus was that there was nowhere safer for them to be than under the protection of Albus Dumbledore; the greatest wizard of their time and the only one Lord Voldemort had ever feared - who would be dead in a year.
Leaning back in his throne-like chair with a sigh that was matched by a solemn note from Fawkes on his perch, Albus looked up from reading the worst thing he had ever written and peered over his half-moon spectacles at the ring he was wearing on his injured hand. It was engraved with the Peverell Coat of Arms.
Albus was the only one who knew that the Resurrection Stone was encased inside - it was why he had put on the ring in the first place. A yearning to see his parents and sister again and tell them how sorry he was had caused Albus to temporarily overlook the danger of the curse. He couldn’t move or control his fingers anymore, could not feel the ring’s gold band wrapped around the deadened flesh. But he wore it anyway as a reminder of what his momentary lapse of judgement had cost him - and what it was going to cost Severus.
He knew that what he was asking Severus to do for him was incredibly cruel, but he was determined it be done anyway. Being willing to sacrifice the one for the many was an essential component of war that Albus was prepared to enact whenever it was necessary, and he knew that Severus would not disappoint - knew this because of how alike they actually were.
Severus had no idea that Albus had once been drawn to the Dark Arts himself and that it had unintentionally caused the death of his beloved sister. Their similar youths made Albus a master at understanding Severus and knowing how best to push his buttons to coerce him into doing exactly what he needed him to do. Albus intended to orchestrate his own inevitable death in a strategic ploy that would keep Severus on Voldemort’s good side for as long as possible, hopefully bringing about an end to all of the suffering that he didn’t think either of them would likely live to see.
Turning back to the parchment held in his one good hand, a teardrop trickled out of the corner of his eye, rolled down his crooked nose, and flooded the fresh ink of his letter. Two words were marred illegible, as though his subconscious was attempting to erase the horrible truth he was preparing to reveal. Sniffling, Albus set the parchment face up on the desk and reached for his wand. He pointed it at the blurred ink to reform the two blemished words: “Harry” and “Horcrux”.
Like opposite sides of the same coin, Harry had just as much work ahead of him as Severus did if Voldemort was to eventually be killed. The only difference was that Harry would not have to walk alone in his path until the very last moment when he received this letter that would tell him what his final act must be. For the primary aim of Dumbledore’s last year of life was to prepare those he was leaving behind to be able to carry on without him. That meant sharing with Harry in stages everything that he had come to know about Lord Voldemort’s quest for immortality and how it directly involved Harry himself.
That Voldemort had successfully created a Horcrux - that is, an object that held a split fragment of his soul which meant he could not die - had been confirmed to Albus ever since Tom Riddle’s diary had been discovered four years ago. The Headmaster of Hogwarts had been working diligently and independently on uncovering as much about Voldemort’s Horcruxes as he could so that they all could eventually be destroyed. For he knew that there were more - exactly how many remained to be seen - but the ring on Dumbledore’s finger had been one until very recently.
“Albus?” The call of his name through the door was followed by a few firm knocks.
Despite how forlorn he was feeling at the moment, Albus had to smile at the familiar voice that was undoubtedly about to reprimand him for not informing her about his return days ago.
Albus had not left his quarters at all since he’d gotten back, but Fawkes’ regular flights about the grounds would have caught her attention. Pointing his wand back at the letter, Albus hastily encased it inside an envelope with a golden seal that would not open by anyone’s hand aside from Harry Potter. The final secret was safely concealed inside this unassuming note, and Albus would be able to walk freely towards his death in the confidence that this essential truth would not die with him.
“Yes, Minerva?” he called politely, pointing his wand at the door so that it swung open to reveal the witch standing there with her arms full of books.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?” Minerva asked immediately.
She looked frazzled and tired. The depressing news appearing daily in the papers was weighing on everyone and the security arrangements Professor McGonagall was having to negotiate with the Ministry before school resumed was keeping her busier than ever.
“I arrived a couple days ago but I’ve spent very little time since then awake,” Albus explained apologetically, and watched his deputy’s sharp expression soften slightly as she took a few steps closer.
“Well, I suppose that only makes sense,” she replied. “I knew your travels this summer weren't going to exactly be a holiday. Did you find -”
Minerva froze in place with one foot raised beneath her long black skirt in mid step. Her eyes had widened alarmingly as she caught sight of the cursed hand that Albus was resting nonchalantly on top of the desk. The books she was carrying dropped to the floor with a loud thump that echoed around the circular study. “Good heavens! Albus, what -”
Albus smiled and raised his arm for her closer inspection.
“Is it hideously ugly?” he asked lightly, taking in the grotesque expression on her face.
“It looks like it died,” Minerva whispered, the low heels of her boots clicking on the floor as she hurried around the desk to his side.
She reached her hand out as though she wanted to touch his fingers in examination, but was nervous about getting too close. Her lips were pursed together tightly as she looked over the damage and after a couple of minutes she glanced questioningly back at him with her eyebrows raised.
“I could wear a glove over it, but that’s sort of a hindrance,” Albus said calmly. “Especially in the heat of summer….”
“Albus-" Minerva closed her eyes for a moment, as though praying for patience. “Has anyone seen this? Poppy or St. Mungo’s?”
“No, they would not recognize a curse of this magnitude,” Albus replied, “but I sent for Severus immediately. Suffice it to say, I would not be here right now if it were not for his quick thinking.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” Minerva said crispily, “but that doesn’t look healed properly to me.”
“I promise you that it looks worse than it is,” said Albus.
Minerva hesitated before stepping closer to him and lightly touching the hand with the tip of her index finger.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered.
“No,” Albus reassured her.
“And I suppose there's no point in asking what on earth you were doing when you sustained such a serious injury?” she shot him another furious look.
"No point whatsoever, I'm afraid," Albus murmured apologetically.
He watched Professor McGonagall's shoulders droop slightly in disappointment at his secrecy, but he knew she wasn’t surprised by his answer. There was unfortunately very little in Albus Dumbledore’s life that he was able to be totally transparent about. A part of being his friend was accepting all the things that you'd never be told.
"This is very Dark Magic," Minerva stated numbly, pressing her hand against the bone in his wrist, above where the flesh was burned.
"And very difficult to contain," Albus agreed softly, feeling her hand involuntarily twitch on his wrist before she pulled away.
“But it is contained?” she asked directly, her beady eyes staring pointedly into his.
"I'm an old man, Minerva," Albus said quietly. "Nobody lives forever."
Minerva leaned back against the desk facing him with her hands now folded together. She waited patiently while Albus pondered how much he could afford to tell her, or whether he could even answer at all. He needed everyone’s shock and grief to be real after Severus killed him in order to never give Voldemort another reason to question Severus’s allegiance. However, Albus decided to do something now that he wouldn’t normally do; which was to share things with Minerva - not because it aided his plans in some way, but because she was his friend and he wanted her to know.
“Severus thinks I might have a year.”
“A year -” a sob sputtered out of Minerva’s mouth before she could stop herself. “So it’s not contained’?”
Albus paused, noticing his Deputy’s livid expression and the way she had begun to wring her hands together. Minerva’s feet shuffled against the floor and she suddenly seemed to become quite fascinated in the pattern of the marble tile she was standing on. Sighing softly, Albus wrapped his hand around one of her wrists and held it still.
“It’s contained at the moment,” he finally said, “but it is going to spread.”
She raised her eyes from the floor to glare at him. “I think Severus has one year to figure out a way to keep the curse from spreading at all.”
“Minerva,” Albus said gently.
“No, don’t do this to me,” Minerva sniffed.
She attempted to pry her wrist from his grasp but he held onto her tightly. His blue eyes stared at her remorsefully and sadly, wondering whether he had actually done the right thing in telling her that he was going to die. Perhaps it would have been better for her to learn about it in the aftermath like everyone else, when there would be far too much going on to dwell on anything for long.
Minerva looked furiously back down at the floor in order to hide her tears from him - always proud to the core and fiercely strong. Albus decided it was best to pretend he didn’t notice and did not offer her hid handkerchief.
“Unfortunately, this is just the way -” he started to say, but as soon as he did, Minerva cut in, pulling her arm forcefully out of his grasp.
"Nobody lives forever!” she threw his own words back at him angrily. “That sounds like you're not even considering ways to save your own life when you know perfectly well that You Know Who will have no difficulty destroying the world if you're ever out of the picture.”
“I assure you that I’ve considered every available avenue,” Albus said calmly, “and there’s nothing that can be done. I only share this out of the deepest respect for you, Minerva. It’s crucial that nobody else find out.”
Professor McGonagall blinked her eyes very rapidly but no longer seemed to have any words left in her to debate. The books she had dropped continued to lay forgotten on the floor behind them and Fawkes was dozing peacefully by the window, already resigned to Dumbledore’s fate. Minerva slumped more heavily against the edge of the desk and Albus leaned back more deeply in his chair. The skirt of her robes were brushing against his leg, while his cursed arm rested casually in his lap. Albus had already gone against his own judgement by telling her what he had and Minerva seemed to sense this.
“Are you scared?” she asked, working hard to lower her voice back down to its usual level.
“I’ve always said that to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure,” Albus replied, “though it reads a bit differently when it’s coming for you personally. We all like to imagine that it never will. So, I suppose I am a bit scared, yes, but I’ve lived an incredibly long life and have much to be grateful for.”
“You’ve always seemed immortal to me,” Minerva said sadly, pulling a tartan handkerchief out of her pocket to blow her nose. “Even as a little eleven year old girl seeing you for the first time at my Sorting Hat ceremony - you were larger than life to me. I don’t know how to exist without you. I've loved you for nearly my whole life..”
“And I love you - fortunately death doesn't change that,” Albus said, reaching for her hand with his good one. This time she let him.
Albus glanced over at the letter laying sealed on the desk. He knew that the right person to deliver it to Harry was standing right in front of him. It made much more sense than bestowing another burden upon Severus that Albus was surprised at himself for not considering her sooner.
“I know that I can depend on you to remain at Hogwarts after I die and do everything in your power to take care of the students, am I correct?” Albus looked at her carefully.
“Of course,” she replied, though her hand suddenly twitched nervously in his. She seemed to sense correctly that more bad news was coming.
“Thank you, Minerva, now listen carefully - once I am dead, Voldemort is not going to hesitate to take over the school. The Ministry will fall into his control around the same time as well. The Order of the Phoenix is going to be forced underground and Harry Potter is going to be the most wanted wizard in Britain. Voldemort will probably order his Death Eaters to heighten security around Hogwarts and both sides will be preparing for battle because it will seem like there is nothing left to lose.”
Minerva’s lips had become a very thin line. She was staring at him closely, looking afraid but also determined. She did not speak but waited for him to continue. Albus knew that nothing he had just revealed would push her away from the cause they both believed in. Her courage would prevail and Minerva would do whatever he asked her to do. She always did what she knew to be right and morally good.
“Once all of that has happened,” Albus said, letting go of her hand and reaching for the letter on the desk beside her. “I want you to give Harry this.”
“Give Potter -” she took it from him and stared at the blank envelope with confusion. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because it will explain things Harry needs to know,” Albus answered simply. “I cannot say more than that and I cannot give him this information too soon. Timing is everything in this matter. Can I trust you to keep the letter safe until it’s ready to be delivered?”
“You know that you can trust me,” Minerva sniffed indignantly, though she was holding the letter with two fingers as if it might explode at any instant. They looked at one another again and then she tucked the envelope inside the pocket of her robes, as Albus felt a weight lifting off of his chest. His well organized mind was going to ensure a very efficient aftermath to his death and that made it all a bit easier for him to bear, although he knew Severus was not likely to share his sentiments.
XXX
Ever since Severus had returned from Hogwarts he had avoided everyone else in the house as much as possible, including Harry. He stayed locked away in his lab all hours of the night and day, not sleeping or eating nearly enough since he’d been manipulated into agreeing to kill Albus Dumbledore.
Already Severus had needed to talk himself out of taking back his promise several times. He was bitter and horrified about what he was being asked to do. Even though his logical mind kept reminding him that the plan was a brilliant strategy that the Dark Lord would never comprehend, Severus did not want to bring about the death of anyone. Not as an act of mercy, not for the greater good, not at all. That he was going to anyway had pushed him into the full throttles of a depression that would have trapped him were it not for Harry persistently intruding in his office, wanting to talk, and refusing to let him isolate himself.
“I suppose you regret pestering me for information now,” Severus said, his black eyes glittering through the vapour rising from the forgotten cauldron on the table that he and Harry were both sitting across from one another at. “You could have enjoyed your summer holiday a little longer before being struck by such a blow, but you like to make things difficult for yourself, so here we are.”
“At least I know why you’ve been acting so strange the past few days,” Harry replied, still with an expression of complete shock on his face.
“Stranger than usual I mean,” he added cheekily before asking, “what was Professor Dumbledore doing with that ring?”
“I have no idea,” Severus said honestly, “though I expect you will find out before I do. Dumbledore intends to teach you a lot in this final year. He didn’t seem at all concerned about dying so long as he had enough time to prepare you for what’s to come.”
“What about preparing you?” Harry asked.
“Me?” Severus smirked. “My role is simple. I already know my job; to stay by the Dark Lord’s side for as long as I can. You’re the one who has no clue what you’re doing. You’ve got a busy year ahead of you.”
“And you’ve got a year to figure out some way to help him,” Harry retorted, “because we can’t lose Dumbledore.”
An anxious note had crept into the boy’s voice. His bottle green eyes were wide with uncertainty upon learning that the unimaginable would soon occur. It did seem entirely hopeless that their side would have an impact once the Dark Lord was given an entirely clear path to destroy the world. Without Dumbledore’s interference, he would easily flatten the Ministry and take control of their government, their school, and the lucky minority he spared from slaughter.
“What do you think I’ve been working on down here?” Severus asked coolly, picking up his wand and motioning to the cauldron set between them that contained the same golden potion he had made Dumbledore drink that night in his office. It was bubbling under the fire, its aroma was pleasing, and it was very appealing to the eye. Only this batch was spoiled from Severus adding extra ingredients that had made the entire concoction poisonous.
Trying to come up with a way to cure Dumbledore so that he could avoid being made to kill him, was an idea that Severus had obsessed about until he’d been forced to accept that it was impossible. He wasn’t an optimistic man and he didn’t indulge in futile wishes and dreams when confronted with horrible facts he’d rather concentrate his efforts on working with.
Severus knew that the Dark Lord would have informed the Malfoy family about his intentions for Draco to assassinate Albus Dumbledore now. Severus anticipated being drowned in Narcissa’s despair the next time they met because her worst fears had now been confirmed. Her son was in mortal danger and the only consolation Severus had about his entire arrangement with Dumbledore was that it meant he could honour his promise to Narcissa about protecting Draco.
“Evanesco,” Severus muttered, vanishing the entire contents of the cauldron with the same spell that he always used in class on Harry’s less than stellar potions.
“Why did you do that?” Harry asked.
Severus raised his eyebrows. “Because it was no good,” he replied. “It was a very strong curse shielder, which I was trying unsuccessfully to strengthen even more.”
“What’s it called?” Harry frowned at the empty cauldron.
“It doesn’t have a name,” Severus replied, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt the coming on of a terrible migraine. “It’s just something I was playing around with, trying to see if I could prevent the curse from spreading indefinitely. But I can’t.”
“Try again,” Harry said matter-of-factly.
“That would be a waste of time,” Severus told him. “Some things can’t be fixed.'
'Unfortunately, Dumbledore is one of them. It’s almost miraculous that he didn’t die within minutes that night in front of me - he should have. That curse was powerful, probably the most powerful I’ve ever seen. What do I keep telling you about the Dark Arts? You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, and indestructible. That’s the battle going on in Dumbledore’s body right now. Not even the greatest wizard of our time can withstand that forever.”
Severus was taking great care to remain composed on the surface but an agony was consuming him as they discussed Dumbledore’s inevitable death. And Harry did not know that Severus was actually the one that was going to kill him.
“But I can tell Ron and Hermione, right?” Harry asked, once Severus had finished lecturing him on the importance of secrecy. “Professor Dumbledore already told me that I can share with them everything he’s going to teach me, so I -”
“Yes, fine,” Severus said, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“And Sirius,” Harry added.
“Whatever,” Severus replied impatiently. “But nobody else. I shouldn’t have even told you without checking with Dumbledore first.”
Harry still looked rather dazed to Severus. Though the boy was unfortunately very accustomed to losing people, it was something altogether different to realise that the person everyone had counted on to help them survive these dark times would soon not be there. Without Dumbledore’s wisdom and guidance, where would they be? Things were about to get much worse and for Harry, who had been marked by a prophecy signalling him out as the one to vanquish the Dark Lord, it seemed more like a death sentence than ever. Severus wished he knew what to say and felt it unlikely that his proximity to the Dark Lord would be enough of an advantage for Harry. Though he would do everything in his power to save him.
“We’re not going down without a fight,” Severus reminded him. “Dumbledore has every faith in you, so that should be enough for you. It’s enough for me."
"And I'll still have you," Harry said, his bottle green eyes darting back and forth nervously as he waited for verification. "Right?"
"Yes," Severus said softly, waving his wand so that all the ingredients and tools he had been using flew back into their proper places. "And you have Sirius."