Yes I have read book 7….and for the sake of everyone here I shall avoid any spoilers. Needless to say, I'll continue with all of my fanfictions as I had planned on doing, regardless of the ending.
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Harry slowly made the trek from the Great Hall after dinner towards the headmaster's office. Hermione had offered to go with him, but Harry had shrugged her off, not because he didn't want the company, but simply because he needed to collect his thoughts.
First and foremost on his mind was, much to his surprise, not what the headmaster wanted with him, nor was it Snape's odd actions in Potions that had him mired deep in thought. Rather, it was his personal feelings on Hermione going in three separate directions, two of which happened to be quelled deeply in fear.
To be truthful there was a small part of him that felt…something…for Hermione, beyond what one would constitute as normal friendship. Needless to say he didn't have a word for it, though he had tried to assign it one before. He figured that part of this was, at least in principle, just simply hormones. If a bloke spent a considerable amount of time around a girl, it would only be natural for part of him to be infatuated on a physical level with said female. That aside however, he felt a deeper emotional connection with Hermione, much more so than any other girl he might have lusted over in the past, and it was only growing with each passing day.
The two avenues of his mind that led to less hospitable thoughts were frightful indeed. Firstly, a part of him thought he was relying far too heavily on Hermione. His parents had died trying to protect him from Voldemort, and Ron had been hurt before trying to help him get to the Sorceror's Stone. If something….anything….happened to Hermione at this point, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He'd miss her for certain, but more than that there was a disparaging feeling of emptiness and fear that associated itself with the concept of no Hermione in his life. A small logical corner of his mind told him he should retreat into himself, shut out the outside world for fear of losing anyone else, but he shut that up relatively quickly.
The other avenue of thought was that this…whatever it was…would muddle things up between he and Hermione. For someone who had never had someone give a damn about his well-being in his entire life, at least that he could remember, he certainly didn't want to do anything to screw that up. Hermione was, unquestionably, the best thing in his life at that very moment, and the possibility of destroying that in pursuit of something that might not even be there in the first place was a harrowing prospect indeed.
As Harry approached the gargoyle leading up to the headmaster's office and muttered the password, he decided for certain on one thing. Until he could suss out everything that was going on in his head, he would keep these feelings to himself. If any of it got out before he was ready to address it himself, there was no telling what might happen.
He rode up the spiral staircase towards Dumbledore's office, putting such thoughts outside of his mind for the immediate moment. As he drew closer to the oak doors, he heard raised voices coming out of the room. He pressed his ear against the door as he drew closer, trying to hear what was being said.
"…I will speak no more on this matter Severus; you know my feelings concerning it."
"Yes, headmaster." Harry blinked. What was going on between Dumbledore and Snape? "I will endeavor to be more….as you put it, fair….in my practices this term."
"That is all I ask Severus." There was a pause, and Harry took the moment to lightly rap on the door. "Ah, that will be my next appointment. We shall speak later, if you like."
"That will not be necessary sir." Just as Harry opened the door, Snape turned on his heel and marched out, not sparing a singular glance at him. Harry looked at his back, only to hear a soft couch from Professor Dumbledore.
"There you are Harry, I'm sorry my meeting with Professor Snape ran a little late. Please…have a seat." Harry turned and the door shut behind him. Though he had seen it several times, Harry never ceased to be amazed at all the silvery gadgets and gizmos that puffed, whirred, and whizzed throughout the headmaster's office like some kind of symphonic cacophony. Harry cautiously moved forward, stopping when he heard a comforting trill from the headmaster's desk, and moving to stroke Fawkes lovingly on the head. Dumbledore merely stood back and regarded it for a moment.
"You must be doing something right Harry," he mused, sitting back down at his desk, "Phoenixes aren't known for taking kindly to those whom they aren't bonded too, unless they have a pure heart." Harry turned and glanced at the headmaster with a bit of a bewildered look on his face, though a sheepish smile slowly crossed his countenance. At Dumbledore's motion, he sat down.
There were several moments of uncomfortable silence, before Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and asked, "So, Harry, how was your summer…if you don't mind me asking that is?"
Harry smiled. "It was great sir," he replied honestly, "Other than that business at the World Cup of course. But before that it was great." He smiled inwardly as he remembered the good times he had, the Dursleys the farthest thing from his mind at that very moment.
"Yes I heard about that business in the paper," Dumbledore said, smiling proudly as he did. "I received a notice from the Ministry that you are to receive a special commendation for your capture of one of the perpetrators of the attack." Harry furrowed his brow both in surprise and in concern.
"Sir, the man I stunned….he was Barty Crouch's son…but the paper said that…" Dumbledore held up his hand, effectively cutting him off.
"Sometimes the Prophet has a tendency to skim over some of the more important details of a story, particularly when powerful men are involved." Harry frowned, nodding his understanding.
"Is this why you wanted to speak with me…about the special commendation?" Dumbledore's smile suddenly faded and he leaned forward, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
"No, Harry, I'm afraid not." He pushed his glasses up, and offered what he could of an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid that in my desire to protect you and offer you some modicum of normality, I have overlooked your basic principle of happiness, as well as the right to make your own decisions. I hope that I have begun to repair things as far as the former is concerned, and I am taking measures to improve things on the latter front.
"In your first year Harry, after you stopped poor Professor Quirrell in the dungeons, you asked me a question, a question that I felt you were too young to know the answer to. A large degree of thought on my part has led me to believe that you are now ready to make this decision for yourself, and so I offer you this choice.
"Should you choose to ask me again why Voldemort wants to kill you, I will tell you everything, but I must ask that you keep it a secret…telling only those that you have the utmost trust in. Only Sirius knows the truth as I do. I will also make a special request of you; that you come here to my office, twice a week at a time which is convenient for you, where I will give you instruction on occulumency, the art of protecting your mind from unwanted intrusion.
"If you wish not to know the truth, then you may walk out the door…and we will not speak on this matter again until you wish to do so." Dumbledore leaned back, eyes twinkling madly as he did so. Harry bit his bottom lip in a Hermione-esque fashion and thought for only a few moments. No matter what it entailed, there was really only one answer he could give.
"I think I deserve to know headmaster," he stated evenly, "After everything Voldemort has put me through, I feel that I deserve to know why he is after me at least." Dumbledore nodded, letting out a measured breath.
"It was my sincere hope that you would not have to face him again so soon in your life Harry, but here at the age of 14 you've faced him twice already, and undoubtedly will continue to do so." Dumbledore stood up and walked over to the side of his office, stopping at a large mirrored cabinet. After making a slight gesture with his hands, the cabinet withdrew into the wall, revealing another mirrored wall that slowly emerged forward. Sitting in the center on a large marble pedestal was a silver basin, engraved with several runes that Harry couldn't quite make out, not being that far ahead in his class yet. Dumbledore seemed to understand Harry's confusion and explained.
"This is a pensieve Harry. It not only allows a person to view memories of events that have long since transpired, but to view them from a third person perspective, so that they might notice something which they might not have noticed before. It is a useful tool if you, like I occasionally do, find your mind to full of clutter." Dumbledore carefully lifted the basin, taking special care not to spill any of the mercurial liquid that it held. He set the pensieve down on the desk in front of Harry, who was momentarily mesmerized by the shimmering surface of the basin.
"16 years ago the position of Divination professor was open here at the school, and it was my task to find a suitable person to fill that position. So it was that I interviewed one Sybil Trelawney." Harry cocked an eyebrow at the idea that Sybil Trelawney could be good for anything, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the headmaster. "I share some of your indignation for the subject of divination, nevertheless I was not yet prepared to do away with the subject completely, and Miss Trelawney was descended from the noted seer Cassandra Trelawney, so it was my hope that she had inherited the gift.
"As the interview progressed the hot July afternoon, it was clear to me that any genuine ability that she possessed was highly overstated on her part. I was about to end the interview, when the most peculiar thing happened. She fell into a trancelike state and began muttering about random gibberish. In the midst of this I recognized a genuine prophecy…it is this prophecy that I intend to show you now." Harry looked on skeptically, but with a hint of knowledge in the back of his mind that, whatever this prophecy was, it was most certainly about him. Dumbledore waved his wand over the pensieve, and at once a misty projection of Professor Trelawney in the same kind of trance she had been in last year appeared above the basin. She spoke in a deep, almost otherworldly voice, as she made her prediction:
"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... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
The wispy image of Professor Trelawney faded from view, and Dumbledore waited for Harry to say something, trying to gauge his reaction. Harry blinked several times, before letting out a deep breath and lowering his head a bit.
"Well that explains a lot," he said half-jokingly. He looked at Dumbledore, his green eyes boring deep into Dumbledore's twinkling blue orbs, looking for any sign that this wouldn't be true. "How do we know I'm the one this talks about…I mean there must have been loads of blokes born at the end of July…"
"Yes, but remember that the chosen one would be born to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. The only two sets of parents who fit that description were your parents….and Frank & Alice Longbottom."
"Neville's parents?" Harry asked in disbelief, "So…this could also apply to Neville?"
"It might have, but when Voldemort chose to attack you that night 13 years ago, he effectively marked you as his equal." Dumbledore's eyes and Harry's hands floated up to the scar that was permanently etched onto his forehead. "That is how I know the Prophecy applies to you. It should be noted that Voldemort, despite championing pureblood supremacy, chose you as his equal rather than the obvious pureblood."
Harry was silent for a long time, mulling over everything in his head. Dumbledore cocked his head to the side, and Harry spoke slowly, "The last part….I have to kill him….I'm the only one who can?"
"That is the only interpretation I can think of Harry." Dumbledore paused, examining the contours of Harry's face as he tried to discern Harry's complete reaction. "I must confess Harry; this isn't the reaction I expected." He had expected Harry to explode, destroying his office in the process, but this was much more subdued than he could measure.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked as calmly as he could.
Dumbledore's face fell slightly as he confessed. "I didn't want to place this burden on your young shoulders Harry. It was another attempt on my part to give you some semblance of normality in your life."
"And protecting me from this….that was why you placed me at the Dursleys?"
"Yes….it was for what I judged to be your own good."
"It always comes back to that doesn't it?" Harry muttered to himself. Without the sheer shock of Dumbledore's contrition, without the comforting presence of Hermione, without the abject fear of speaking out, Harry Potter's temper was beginning to flare, despite his better judgment.
"I can only hope that you can one day forgive an old man his folly, Harry. I shall not ask for it today, but I shall merely give you the promise that I shall endeavor to make things right in the future." He paused a moment, seeing the war that Harry was at with himself, before adding, "I understand if…"
"No you don't!" Harry snapped, his fist clenching in frustration as he glared at the headmaster. "You can't possibly understand. You didn't have the experiences I did." Tears started to leak out of his eyes as he continued on with ferocity. "I didn't know my name till I was four years old and even then just because a teacher told me. I didn't have a single friend growing up because my cousin chased them all away. No one has ever even…" he stopped, trying to gain control of his emotions as best he could. Fawkes started singing a small song, which brought him a bit of calm. Harry nodded his head and stood up, his face reduced to a blank mask, the tears wiped from his eyes. He walked towards the door, stopping when Dumbledore called his name.
"I must ask you Harry, if you plan on telling anyone about this. I must ask you to take great caution if you do choose to tell them, but I will not forbid it. It is your choice to make." Harry turned around and stared right at the headmaster.
"I don't know what I'm going to do right now, more than likely I'm just going to mull things over for a bit." He paused before adding, "I don't hate you Professor, and I am thankful you have finally decided to come clean and will help me on this task…but I'm afraid I will have a hard time respecting you ever again." On that, Harry turned and walked out of the headmaster's office, leaving Dumbledore in a somber state indeed.
A/N: I decided to just make this all one chapter, rather than add anymore reaction on the part of Harry or any other characters. We'll be jumping forward in time here, and while I won't detail many things that happen in other classes (Blast-Ended Skrewts for example), they may be touched upon at times.
Furthermore we'll start with the leadup to the tournament in the next chapter, so that'll be a good thing. And before long we'll get to the initial thing I wanted to change that was the one main decision to start this at the fourth book rather than 5 or 6….the Yule Ball.