Chapter Text
The creature behind them convulsed and groaned, while Harry and Dumbledore remained in silence for what felt like an eternity beneath the domed glass roof. Harry’s mind raced with all that Dumbledore had revealed: the secrets of the killing curse and why he had survived it, the connection of his wand to Voldemort, the enigmatic Grindelwald, the Deathly Hallows, Ariana, his father’s cloak, the cursed ring, and Dumbledore’s unworthiness to possess the Hallows, all but the wand. The idea that his former headmaster thought he was worthy of the Hallows echoed in his thoughts.
The realisation of what would inevitably unfold settled gradually over Harry, like softly falling snow in the quietest of moments. “I’ve got to go back, haven’t I?”
“That is entirely up to you,” Dumbledore replied.
“I have a choice?” Harry asked, surprised.
“Oh, yes,” Dumbledore smiled warmly. “That’s the beauty of it all. You have the power to make an unlimited array of choices, and they are yours alone. But remember, you must live with the consequences of those choices, for they rarely present themselves twice. In that sense, you are remarkable. You have lived, died, and can now rise again, just as a phoenix from the ashes. I know of only one other man, equally worthy, who has been reborn in fire, shedding his past life to forge something new, something better.”
Harry gazed at Dumbledore, his brows furrowed in confusion. Dumbledore chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Harry’s mind raced, frustration building at the old man’s penchant for speaking in riddles. But then, like a bolt of lightning, understanding struck him, sudden and undeniable.
“Malfoy,” Harry said, his voice firm, and Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement.
Draco had cornered them in the Room of Requirement. Harry had rescued both him and Goyle from the Fiendfyre, but it didn’t explain the rapid change of Draco’s demeanour. After being knocked out for just a few moments, Draco returned with an air of something entirely new, something different emanating from him. Harry could sense it in the depths of Draco’s eyes—the knowledge, the understanding of things he shouldn’t possibly know. It was the way Draco spoke of Fred’s death that struck Harry as particularly odd. Draco had said that Fred had died, not that he would die. Initially, Harry attributed Draco’s strange behaviour to the impact of the blow, perhaps a concussion causing confusion.
“The portraits aren’t the only inhabitants that live within the walls of the castle,” Dumbledore remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement."How do you think she knows how to transform the Room of Requirement into precisely what you need? She’s a sentient entity of sorts, rather temperamental at times, but she serves her purposes well," he chuckled lightly.
Harry let out an exasperated sigh. If being in the afterlife meant enduring Dumbledore’s cryptic riddles, he almost preferred facing another Avada. He raised an eyebrow, his patience wearing thin as he waited for Dumbledore to elaborate further.
“Very well,” Dumbledore cleared his throat. “She might have nudged him a little.”
“When you say ‘she’?” Harry inquired, his curiosity piqued.
“Hogwarts, of course,” Dumbledore replied with a wise smile.
“The castle is a ‘she’?” Confusion washed over Harry. “Wait—the castle is alive?”
“Ah, yes. Very much so,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Like I mentioned, she’s rather temperamental. The moving stairs, the vanishing rooms—she holds so many more secrets, I’m certain. But let’s keep this between ourselves, shall we?”
Harry nodded, knowing that no one would likely believe his tale, anyway. But now, he found himself burdened with more questions than answers. “So you said she ‘nudged’ Malfoy? What does that even mean?”
“It means she might have guided him, showing him that the path he was on would only lead to despair,” Dumbledore explained.
“She showed him an illusion?” Harry asked, trying to grasp the concept.
“The future,” Dumbledore confirmed with a twinkle in his eye. And he really fucking hated that they always did that.
“And what exactly did he see?” Harry pressed, eager for more information.
“Ah, now that is not my story to tell, but his,” Dumbledore replied cryptically. For fuck’s sake.
He waited, hoping Dumbledore would continue, but the old wizard simply smiled, and a long silence settled between them again.
“So Voldemort has the Elder Wand...” Harry finally broke the silence, shifting the conversation.
“True. Voldemort has the Elder Wand.”
Great, now he is just repeating his words back to him.
“But I have the choice to go back? You want me to go back?”
“I think,” Dumbledore said, his tone contemplative, “that if you choose to return, there is a chance that he may already be finished for good. I cannot say for sure. But I know this, Harry, that you have less to fear from returning here than he does.”
Harry looked once more at the raw-looking thing that trembled and choked in the shadow beneath the distant chair. The being wriggled and contorted on the ground before finally becoming motionless.
“Ah, it seems that Mr Malfoy has done it again.” Dumbledore’s shoulders dropped as he looked on at the dead creature, a serene look upon his face—probably a smile. Okay, it was a smile.
Harry sighed, his head dropping back in exasperation.
Don’t snap. Don’t snap. Don’t snap.
“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, then we say goodbye for the present.”
Or for good, hopefully for good… if this is the afterlife he was doomed for.
Harry and Dumbledore both stood, their gazes meeting and holding in a wordless exchange that seemed to stretch on endlessly.
“Tell me one last thing,” Harry said, his eyes searching. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
Dumbledore beamed at Harry, his voice ringing loud and clear in Harry’s ears, even as the bright mist began to descend once more, shrouding Dumbledore’s figure.
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”