On The Hunt #5 (Patreon)

A disparate silence reigned over the ancient castle of Hogwarts now that the foreign students and dignitaries had gone back home. The usual hustle and bustle that had become the new norm over the past year were nowhere to be seen, drowned in tranquility. The majority of students had gone back to their respective dormitories given the curfew was approaching soon.

It was no wonder that his footsteps echoed across the corridor in the darkness. He could’ve joined his friends in the common room or the boys' dorm, playing games or having fun. Ron and Hermione had even asked him to after he had bid his farewell to Gabrielle, but he had declined with a smile. If they suspected something was wrong, he was thankful they hadn’t pried. He didn’t think he was in the mood to explain anything, a fact compounded by the realization that he was almost as much in the dark as he was.

A shudder passed through him as he thought about the night in the graveyard. His duel with Voldemort had not gone the way any one of them had ever expected. For one, Voldemort would’ve never thought he would lose his followers to a mere schoolboy, and Harry had never thought he would be able to hold his own against the most dangerous dark wizard of the past few decades.

However, there was something else that had occupied his mind equally since that night. He had been hit with a killing curse, yet again, and he managed to survive, yet again. That was a cause for concern in itself, however, the more pressing matter was the vision he had seen afterward. Or rather, visions. Visions that were recurring at odd intervals since that night. Visions of murder. Visions of torture. Visions of deliberation and knowledge so obscure, he didn’t think even the practitioners of the dark arts would be able to make sense of. He had tried to make heads or tails of them, but all he could gather was the passing figment of knowledge, barely out of reach.

No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, Harry could not uncover the surface of that knowledge. It was hazy, and it was fragmented. That was the best way he could describe it.

One aspect of it all stood out to him though, and it was something he was going to confront the headmaster about. The old wizard had played his games for far too long. It was time for him to come clean.

The gargoyle shifted aside and Harry made his way forward. Tapping his knuckle against the door twice in quick succession, he waited.

“Come in, Harry,”

Squaring his shoulders, Harry pushed the doors open and walked inside. The aged headmaster was sat behind his desk, an inquisitive look on his face as he gazed at the emerald-eyed wizard. He had to agree that the boy had grown finely, with a well-built body and a handsome visage. His eyes added to his overall image, and no matter how much desirable he was to the opposite sex, there was no denying that he had a presence about him.

Harry made his way up the small set of stairs and stood in front of the desk. He kept his eyes trained on the headmaster.

“Please take a seat, Harry,”

“Thank you sir,” he nodded and sat down.

“May I enquire as to why you have decided to approach me at this hour, Harry? The curfew is about to start soon I believe,”

“We both know the curfew means nothing to me, headmaster,” Harry shrugged, and Dumbledore sighed.

“Just because I happen to overlook these minor violations of rules doesn’t mean you should flaunt it in my face, Harry,” Dumbledore reprimanded lightly.

“My apologies, sir, I meant no disrespect,” Harry conceded. The headmaster peered at him over the top of his glasses.

“I sense your turmoil, my boy,” he began slowly, “is there something you want to talk about?”

Harry stared at him for a moment, thinking about how to best start the discussion. ‘Blunt and to the point, I guess,’

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...” he trailed off, and it was more than enough. Dumbledore’s face had gone white, his eyes wide and his hands gripped the arms of his throne-like chair tightly. Harry could see his knuckles turning white. The headmaster was distressed.

“How... how do you know that?”

“We should start at the beginning, headmaster,” Harry implored, peering at the wizened old wizard through his hair that had fallen slightly in front of his eyes. “How about you start with the truth this time? And by truths, I don’t mean half-truths or diversions, I would like you to be honest with me for once, sir,”

Dumbledore was taken aback by how this conversation had gone so far. He couldn’t believe Harry knew about the prophecy. How could he? Did Severus? No, Severus wouldn’t say anything to the boy. If not him, then how?

“I understand that you seek answers, my boy, but please tell me how you know what you just said? You have no idea how confidential that information truly is,”

Harry sighed. The headmaster was making this troublesome. Would it hurt him so much to come clean for once?

“Voldemort hit me with the killing curse,” he admitted, “the night in the graveyard, he hit me with the killing curse, and I saw these visions. There were many, I couldn’t make any sense of these, but there was one about a prophecy, which I know you were the recipient of. Don’t ask me how I know that, even I have no idea.”

Dumbledore’s eyes bugged out.

“Truly?” He whispered with slightly misty eyes which surprised Harry.

“Yeah, and a few days later I noticed this,” he said before he lifted his hair aside, baring his forehead to the headmaster’s gaze.

Dumbledore was looking on in wonder at the unblemished forehead.

“Your scar is completely gone, there is not even an outline,”

Harry nodded. Dumbledore was still looking at him with that peculiar smile. Harry shook his head.

“Getting back to the prophecy, headmaster, this prophecy was the reason why he went after me. Not my parents, the ones who had thrice defied him, but me, a one-year-old child. This prophecy was the reason why my parents sacrificed themselves for me, why I grew up the way I did. And I would like you to come clean, sir. He told me he didn’t know the entire prophecy. I would like you to tell me sir,”

Dumbledore looked like he had aged up decades in those couple of minutes. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, glasses slightly unhinged.

“I’m sorry my boy, but this is the knowledge that I cannot divulge,” Harry opened his mouth to protest but Dumbledore held his hand up.

“Please let me finish, Harry. What you went through that night was something not many witches or wizards could’ve survived. You went toe to toe with one of the darkest wizards of our time and came out triumphant, even managing to take out some of his followers while fighting him. That is no easy feat, and you have earned my respect for that. But the knowledge you seek, it is something so crucial that it needs to be kept a secret from as many people as possible,”

Harry felt incensed.

“This prophecy destroyed my life, sir,” he gritted out, “I believe I have the right to know what it says,”

Dumbledore sighed. Harry was not making it easy for him. But he had to give him something. Otherwise, the resentment would fester, and it was something best avoided in the current scenario.

“Okay Harry, I will tell you the prophecy, but not today,”

“Why?” One syllable, spoken with such coldness that Dumbledore was taken aback for a moment.

I fear your mind is susceptible Harry. If you knew what the prophecy truly said, there is a risk of someone finding it out by attacking your mind,”

“You are referring to Legilimency,”

Dumbledore nodded.

“Tom is a master of the mind arts. It won’t take him much effort to breach your mind. And if he is successful, I don’t need to tell you what might happen,”

“He would pluck the prophecy right from my mind,”

Dumbledore nodded.

“So what do you want me to do? You said you’d tell me the prophecy, but not today,”

“Correct. I want you to learn Occlumency, Harry. Or let me phrase it better. I want you to master Occlumency,” Dumbledore remarked firmly.

Harry frowned.

“I have read about it, and you can be assured that I have practiced the art. I might not have a proper mindscape but I can protect myself from intrusions,”

Dumbledore peered at him, and Harry felt a probe against his mental shields. He repelled it without any effort.

“So it would seem,” Dumbledore remarked, his eyebrows raised, “I admit I had not expected such strong shields. You were able to repel a passive probe without any effort. That’s good. You just have to enforce those shields and create a mindscape. Once you’re done, I will test you and if you pass, I give you my word I will tell you the prophecy in its entirety,”

Harry stared unblinkingly at the headmaster, before giving a short nod.

“Okay headmaster. I will trust your judgement in this matter,”

Dumbledore nodded thankfully, before Harry continued, “I have something else to talk to you about,”

“Yes?”

“During the ritual, Voldemort took my blood,” he stated, “wouldn’t that make the blood wards around Privet Drive useless? He can stroll whenever he would like,”

Dumbledore stroked his beard.

“You are of course correct, Harry, Tom can walk through those wards now, that is why I put up additional wards around the property. Wards that would take him a long time to overcome, enough time for reinforcements to arrive, and believe me when I say that Tom would not take such a risk at this point of time,”

“You mean he won’t expose himself to the public,”

“Precisely,” Dumbledore said with a proud smile, “Tom would take the advantage of the ministry’s denial of his return to build his power in the shadows. With the ministry doing nothing, it gives him a head start in this war,”

Harry frowned.

“Even if he won’t come there by himself, why do I have to go there? Won’t it be better if I stayed at Hogwarts and learned all I could? The past year was very good when I had access to the Restricted Section. I could do the same in the summer while practicing my Occlumency,”

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling.

“A good idea Harry, but you’re unaware of one crucial thing,”

“What is it?”

“Tell me Harry, did you really think your protection was the only purpose of those blood wards?”

Harry’s brain worked overtime, trying to think what Dumbledore might be talking about.

“I can see you thinking, my boy, but let me elaborate,” the headmaster started with a smile, “you see, when your mother cast that protection on you, she used the oldest form of magic, the power of sacrifice, unselfish and pure, and with that, she invoked something unforeseen,”

Harry’s heart was beating wildly. He knew whatever the headmaster was about to reveal was going to be big.

“The blood wards around your relatives’ home, in addition to protecting you, increase the potency of your magic,”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“Increase the potency of my magic?”

“Yes Harry, have you never wondered how your spells carry so much power, how it takes you such a little time to master any new spell, how you can cast spells which even grown up witches and wizards have trouble casting? The blood wards have, over the years, enforced your mother’s sacrifice into your magic in such a manner that its potential has risen significantly,”

Harry’s mind was swirling, thoughts forming at a rapid pace as he took in the headmaster’s words.

“You are telling me that the blood wards make me powerful? Like the prophecy said?”

The headmaster smiled.

“While the prophecy might have played a part, the wards are making you powerful but also enhancing your control over magic beyond what a normal person is capable of, as well as increasing your affinity to the power coursing through your veins. Overall, it is enhancing your ability as a wizard,”

“Improving my ability as well as capability,” he muttered.

“Indeed Harry. Consider it as compounding. With each summer you spend there, the improvement compounds, and it will keep up until you reach eighteen. That’s why you have to stay at the Dursleys till the date of your birthday. Afterward, you are free to leave their home, never to return if that’s your wish,”

Harry sat there, stunned. Never had he thought there was such an intricacy involved. Now he felt bad in complaining about returning to the Dursleys.

“This is a lot to take in, headmaster,”

Dumbledore nodded before his face took on a solemn look.

“I know I condemned you to some very tough times my boy, but it was necessary. Tom was bound to return, and you had to grow as a wizard. The wards were the best option. No matter how much I had taught you, the learning curve would’ve been very steep and you wouldn’t have been able to be ready in time. However, the wards enhanced your power as well as other aspects of magic. I dare to say you will pick advanced magic up very easily. All I did was so that you would one day stand a chance against Tom, a wizard with over half a century of experience over you.”

Harry was overcome with emotion. One aspect of him was urging him to lash out at Dumbledore for leaving him with the Dursleys and condemning him to years of verbal and mental abuse, while another aspect was full of gratitude to the man for making his accelerated development possible.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything, my boy,” Dumbledore began with a smile, “just learn all you can, practice to the best of your potential, and be the best you can be. I fear we would have need of you sooner than I would’ve liked,”

Harry looked back at the headmaster with a determined gaze, resolving to do the best he could so that when the day finally came, he would be able to put Voldemort seven feet under the ground for good.

“Thank you for telling me, headmaster, I’ll master Occlumency, I promise, and I will become capable enough to defeat Voldemort for good,” he said and stood up.

Dumbledore nodded with a smile.

“Take these books, Harry,” he passed two thick books, one blue and one red, their bindings firm and done in metal, “these books detail the road to mastery in the mind arts. I dare say, with your affinity to magic, you’ll have a significantly easier time incorporating them in your psyche,”

Harry took them with a grateful look on his face and shrunk them before putting them in his pocket.

“Thank you sir...”

“Is there something else bothering you, Harry?”

Harry frowned.

“It’s just that, this magical potency thing... it feels like cheating, as if I am doing something unfair to the other students here who struggle like normal students while I cruise through because of some magical boost,”

Dumbledore chuckled.

“But those students don’t have the burden of the prophecy, do they? They didn’t have your life, Harry, nor have they faced the injustice you’ve faced in your life, or continue to face. They will have to fight one day, yes, but the true burden lies with you Harry. You feel the increase in capability and power is unfair, but since when has your life been fair, my boy?”

*****

Harry walked out of the headmaster’s office toward the Gryffindor tower in a daze, his words swirling in his mind.

‘... since when has your life been fair, my boy?’

He stopped outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Well? Password? Be quick my boy, I’ve to sleep you know?”

“Lion’s pride,” he muttered. The portrait swung open and he walked inside. The common room was deserted, the lights dimmed and he walked up the stairs to the dormitory. Not bothering to change, he dropped backward on his bed and descended into the realm of Morpheus.

*****

To be continued...