Harry Potter and the Tri-Fold Prophecy - 4. Chapter 4

Having finished the huge meal, courtesy of Molly, and several horrid potions, courtesy of Madame Pomfrey, Harry and Dumbledore sat down to further discuss their findings. The headmaster was peering at him over his half-moon spectacles, appearing to weigh his options, making Harry shift uncomfortably. After the professor’s hands-off approach from the previous year, he wasn’t sure if this sudden closeness was a good thing.

Dumbledore seemed to have come to a decision, as he leaned forward and peered into Harry’s eyes with an intensity that made him squirm in his seat. “I’m sorry, my boy, but I must ask. Have you performed any rituals or spells on yourself after hearing of the prophecy? I understand the prospect of being the only one capable of stopping Voldemort could be daunting, and you may have looked for ways of leveling the playing field, shall we say?”

Unsettled, Harry took a minute to sort out his thoughts enough to form a reply. “Professor, I thought Remus would have told you. My magic isn’t working anymore. I can’t even light a candle without an explosion! I wouldn’t dream of trying to use magic on myself now!”

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was usually very good at reading people. The only two people he could recall that had escaped him were both the subject of a particularly nasty prophecy. Kill or be killed. That certainly changed people. Was Harry one who would be changed? He couldn’t afford the benefit of the doubt. He was old, even for a wizard, and he could not help one Dark Lord fall only to once again allow another to rise. He had made enough mistakes, first with Gellert in his youth, and then with young Tom when he was the Transfiguration Professor, and now with Harry. He needed certainty. “Harry, I was informed of your magical difficulty, but you evaded my question,” and most masterfully, he added to himself. “Did you, or did you not perform a ritual?”

Startled by the extreme hostility the Headmaster was showing him, Harry kept his reply simple. “No, Professor, I did not. I don’t even know any rituals! We don’t start learning those until Newt level Charms class!”

With a relieved sigh, the headmaster of the premier school for magic sat back in the comfortable plush chair. “Thank you, Harry. I had to be sure. Your magic has increased incredibly in the past week, and the only way I know that could have caused it is the blackest of Black Magic.” Harry could only stare at him in shock. After everything that had happened, the professor was asking him if he had used Black Magic? “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t believe it either, but you must understand, I had to be sure. After I learned of your treatment at the hands of the Dursleys, well, the similarities were too close for comfort.”

This latest comment brought out a puzzled frown on Harry’s face. “Headmaster, I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, forgive an old man’s rambling. Tom Riddle, as you know, is also Lord Voldemort. However, what most do not know is that Tom Riddle was raised in an orphanage in the muggle world, and did not receive the best treatment. He turned to revenge, and well, you have seen the results far too frequently for my liking. Before you say anything, I want you to know that I do NOT believe that you and Tom are the same. That said, I had to be sure. I know all too well that mistakes can be made in one’s youth, mistakes that will haunt a man for the rest of his life.”

Harry thought he must have closely resembled a goldfish, but he couldn’t find it in himself to control his reactions just yet. He knew he was nowhere near as smart as Hermione, and all this information at once was a little overwhelming. He was also curious as to why Dumbledore seemed so sad when he spoke of mistakes. For perhaps the first time, he realised that Dumbledore had been a teenager, just as he was now. Did he have to deal with the same things? Did he have things, like Cedric, like Sirius, that haunted him still? He squashed his curiosity after thinking about how he would feel if people asked him about his mistakes.

“So, my boy, let us shift this conversation to hopefully happier thoughts. You mentioned earlier that someone told you to contact me. Could you elaborate, please?”

Harry nodded, and took a second to focus his mind. “Yes, sir. After I blacked out when uncle Vernon came up the stairs, I had a dream. It was dark everywhere, and there were voices singing, like nothing I’ve ever heard!” At this point, Harry looked down at his hands that he had clasped in his lap, and mumbled, “I thought at first that I was dead, because it was really peaceful and beautiful in its own way.” Harry became even quieter, and Dumbledore had to lean forward to catch his next words. “When I was thinking I was dead, I was glad, because at least that meant that no one else would die because of me. Suddenly there was a voice speaking to me, but now that I think about it, I couldn’t tell where it came from. It seemed everywhere! Anyways, the voice told me I was not dead, but in a healing sleep, told me that I would understand more soon, and that when I woke up I should talk to you.”

For one of the first times in his long memory, Albus was stunned into silence. Harry Potter, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, had just admitted that he had been glad when he thought he was dead. He understood, certainly, for no child should have to go through as much as young Harry, but imagine! If word got out to the papers, the war would be over before it even started! He had to speak to Poppy at once, see if there were any discrete Mind Healers that she knew of. After all, the Prophet and the Ministry had just finished saying that Harry was mentally unstable! Discretion was of the utmost importance, but Dumbledore knew that Survivors Guilt could tear a man apart, and Harry Potter, no matter what the public believed, was still just a boy. Still, though, Harry was nothing if not resilient. He had defeated Voldemort as a First year and a Second Year, he had survived His return in Fourth Year, and had thrown off a full possession attempt in Fifth year, for Merlin’s sake! If anyone could pull through, the Potter Heir would.

“You have no idea who this voice may be, hmm?” At the shake of the black haired head, Dumbledore continued. “Well, then, it is getting late, and you have had quite the day. Perhaps we should retire for the night, and approach this fresh in the morning?”

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“Master Draco, Mistress would like to know if you would still be liking to see Dumblydore today?” Pinky asked after popping into the room.

“Let mother know that I will be down in a moment, Pinky.”

“Yes, master Draco.” replied Pinky before disappearing with a crack.

Draco sighed. What a right mess I have gotten us into. Let us hope that Dumbledore is willing to listen, and does not dismiss us immediately.

Checking his appearance in the mirror, Draco paused at the large door leading out of his room, admiring the design as he gathered his thoughts. The door was a deep Purpleheart, with inlays of Pink Ivory and African Bloodwood in intricate patterns and swirls. Reaching for the crystal door handles, which had been styled into the shapes of dragons with ruby tongues and emerald eyes, he exited into the hallway.

He made his way slowly to the grand staircase, then shook himself. It will not do to have mother see me like this. I have to show an air of utmost confidence if we have any chance of winning over Dumbledore. Once more he donned his protective mask, showing the world what he felt it meant to be a Malfoy. After checking in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs to make sure he looked poised, and ignoring the mirror’s clucking about him being too thin, he entered the elaborate sitting room where his mother sat waiting for him.

“Draco, I assume your attire to mean you still intend to go through with this plan,” Narcissa raked her calculating eyes over her son. He was wearing a dark green silk shirt, with a small dragon emblem over his heart. His pants were made of dragon skin, with all the protective properties of dragon leather, but fit like dress slacks.

“Yes mother, I believe it the only way to ensure we survive. There is little chance we can kill Dumbledore, and that would be if I had any inclination to do so. There is also little chance I will be able to win Dumbledore's trust in one day, but that is hardly necessary. I just need to convince him I do not pose a threat and to give me a chance to prove myself.”

“Very well, Draco. You seem to have put a great deal of thought into this, so we will attempt it your way. We will floo to Hogsmeade immediately after breakfast.”

“Thank you, mother.”

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“Harry, wake up!” Ron said, shaking him.

“Mmmfff.... Just a little longer...” mumbled Harry.

“Sorry, but Dumbledore's here to see you. He said he wants to take you to Hogwarts to practise your magic!” Ron sounded excited at the prospect Dumbledore was going to teach Harry himself.

“Ok, ok. I'm up. Let him know I'll be right down.” Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

After putting on his glasses, Harry moved to his trunk. Yawning as he reached for his robes, something told him to not use the billowy clothes that were standard for wizards. Dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a green t-shirt, he made his way downstairs to find Dumbledore sitting at the table sipping tea.

“Ah, Harry. I hope you do not mind that I took the liberty of inviting you to Hogwarts today so that we can work on your spellcasting.” Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously, like a child that had a wonderful prank planned. “I know of the perfect place to practise. There is little chance of anything being damaged there!”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, blushing heavily.

“You are quite welcome, my boy! We've got to get recent matters under control before the start of term, otherwise I'm afraid there would be many more disasters than in recent year, wouldn't you agree?” Dumbledore asked, casting a glance between Hermione, Ron and Harry. “Ah, well, you should eat some of this delightful breakfast before we head off for your training.” He gestured toward the many dishes full of eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes.

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“Well, that was a magnificent breakfast,” Dumbledore said as he stepped out of the floo into his office. “Now come along, we must go through the entry hall towards the main staircases. There's a wonderful shortcut there that will allow us to skip the stairs up to the seventh floor.”

“The seventh floor? Sir, are we going to the Room of Requirement?” Harry smiled, sparing a glance to see Dumbledore's expression.

“That we are! I believe you found it immensely useful in the organization of 'Dumbledore's Army', did you not?” he asked as they rode the staircase down from his office.

Stepping out of the way of the statue as it closed the entrance to the headmaster's quarters and office, Harry simply nodded.

“Yes, well now you will be the student, and I the teacher. The Room of Requirement is shielded from most magics, so we will not be likely to cause any damage even if you were to channel too much energy into some overly powerful spell.”

As they were walking past the great hall, they heard a large banging coming from the entryway.

“I wonder who that could be,” Dumbledore asked absentmindedly.

“Who, Professor?” Harry asked, confused that such a noise would only illicit a mild curiosity.

“Yes, Harry. The doors have a charm on them to magically amplify the sound of someone using the door knockers. They are typically only used in the summer months.”

Moving quickly towards the doors, Dumbledore swung them open to find Narcissa and Draco Malfoy standing there.

“Ah, Draco, Narcissa, good to see you. I am unfortunately busy at the moment, but I would be happy to meet with you at a later date, perhaps?” Dumbledore stated politely but firmly.

“Headmaster, I really must speak with you,” Draco sounded desperate. “It is a matter of life and death for my mother and I.”

“I am quite aware of your situation, Draco, and I will speak with you on a day that I am not so busy.”

“Sir,” Harry said, “It's ok. You should talk with him.”

“Harry, your training is of the utmost importance. I fail to see how this could be more important.” He gestured at the Malfoys as if they were little more than an annoyance.

“Because he has no intention of going through with his task. I saw it in him when the task was given, sir. I just hadn't realized it yet. Now I can see he is terrified of the prospect of killing someone, especially you.”

“How can you tell, my boy?” Dumbledore was watching Harry with rapt attention, curious as to Harry's reactions.

Harry shrugged. “I don't know, sir. I just feel it.”

Draco’s face twisted into a sneer. “Of course. I can see now that if Potter's opinion means so much that we have no chance.”

“Drop the act, Malfoy. It may fool most people, but I can see right through it now. You’re terrified that we’ll reject you and refuse you help. You know you have no chance if you had to go up against Voldemort and his death eaters. Your last hope is with Dumbledore, and the protection you think he can offer,” Harry said, assured that he was right.

“Just like you Potter, are you honestly arrogant enough to assume you know what my son is thinking?” Narcissa asked hotly.

“Really? Look at your son. My words struck true. He has no intention of killing anyone, and you don’t want to go through with the training assigned to you by Voldemort.”

“You spew off information like it is fact, and a large portion of this information was disclosed in a closed chamber. How do you know these things?” Narcissa asked, eyeing Harry skeptically.

“Because of this!” Harry said viciously, as he moved his hair away from his scar. “This links me to him, and makes me see him. That’s how I know these things, as I saw them as they happened.”

“You said you saw then in Draco that he had no intention of killing. Could the Dark Lord have seen this as well?” she asked with a nervous glance at her son.

“That would be highly doubtful,” interjected Dumbledore. “If Voldemort had seen any sign of duplicity, young Draco would not be standing here before us and we would not be having this conversation. The Dark Lord does not forgive those that betray him.”

“Does this mean that you will protect us from him? We have been here, and you let us into the castle. The Dark Lord will expect us to have attempted something. When he finds you are still alive he will become suspicious of us, which is not something we can afford at present,” Narcissa said, appearing impassive.

“Professor, they are telling the truth. Voldemort would be very displeased with them, perhaps to the point of calling the mission a failure,” Harry said, still staring at the two Malfoys.

“Quite right you are, I'm afraid. I will have chambers prepared in the school for the both of you, if that suits your needs. I can assure you that the school is quite safe.”

“Thank you, Headmaster. We will not abuse this sanctuary you provide,” Narcissa said, letting some of the relief she felt seep into her composure. “Is there any way we could have some of our personal effects brought over? And perhaps our house elf, Pinky?”

“Yes, I will have the Hogwarts house elves go over to the manor and retrieve whatever it is you wish. Please provide me with a list of things you would like,” Dumbledore said, smiling serenely, while inwardly wondering at the new face to Harry he was seeing. Scarred Soldier, Scared Child, and now Skilled Diplomat? Something was off, and he did not like it at all.. “Now, if you will follow me I will show you to a sitting room where you can wait for Hogwarts to prepare the rooms.”

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After dropping the Malfoys off in a sitting area, Dumbledore swept towards a large tapestry, showing the grand staircase of some opulent building.

“This way now, Harry,” Dumbledore walked straight at the tapestry.

“Professor, where are we going? I don't know of any passageways behind this tapestry.” Harry was shocked. He thought the Marauder's Map knew all the passageways in the school.

“Of course not, my boy. Very few people know of this passageway, and even fewer know how to use it,” the headmaster said as he was taking out his wand. After drawing the shape of a key in mid-air, there was a loud click, as if an enormous lock had been opened. “There we are, walk straight into the tapestry as if it were the barrier of platform 9 and ¾.”

Walking at the tapestry, Harry had the odd sensation that he was moving through some form of liquid. As soon as he touched the tapestry, he found himself stepping out of the wall on the seventh floor.

“That's amazing. Is this how you move around so quickly, professor?” Harry asked, glancing back at the wall that was once more solid.

“Yes, my boy. It is one of the many secrets of the castle, and has served me well for many years. Hogwarts provides passage to those in need.”

After having paced in front of the blank wall on the seventh floor three times, the Room of Requirement opened for them, showing a room much like the one Harry had used for the DA meetings.

“Here we are, in we go now, Harry,” Dumbledore gestured towards the door.

As he was walking into the room, Harry had a sudden thought. “Professor, I thought we were supposed to meet with Professor Snape at Ron's house.”

“Quite right, my boy. We will be meeting him there later tonight, as he had some things I required him to do first. Now in we go, we have some training to do.”