Harry Potter and The Force of Magic Chapter 18 (Confrontation) (Patreon)

Entering his office, Harry was relieved to find that he was alone; the only other occupants being the old professor, who was stirring something in a cup with a little spoon, and Fawkes, the Phoenix, who was perched in a birdcage on the professor's desk. Harry couldn't help but smile as the Phoenix chirped happily in recognition of his arrival.

"Hello, my little friend." Harry greeted his little friend with a warm smile, reaching out to touch the top of his head. The Phoenix let out a pleasant sound as if it were singing a song of joy, much to Dumbledore's amusement. The old wizard chuckled, his eyes twinkling with delight at the sight of the two of them together. He turned to face the old professor, his face going from happy to serious.

"Professor," Harry called out with no hint of fear or insecurity in his voice as his green eyes met with Dumbledore's Blue eyes.

"Ah, my boy, it's so good to see you again," Dumbledore said warmly, offering a chair for his student to sit on. "We have a lot to discuss, so please, make yourself comfortable."

"About what?" Harry asked curiously, pretending to be unaware of the topic of conversation, as if he was completely in the dark about what they might want to discuss.

"About your Holy Magic, of course."

As soon as the words spilled out of the mouth of the venerable headmaster, Harry Potter jolted up from his seat, causing the chair to clatter to the floor behind him, yet the young wizard paid it no heed. His heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of what he had just heard. Harry's emotions boiled over, his previously emerald green eyes turning a shimmering gold that seemed to blaze in the room. Without warning, a golden circle began to form before his palm. The Professor, taken aback by Harry's sudden outburst. The desk in front of Harry was obliterated, reduced to a cloud of splinters and dust. The shockwave from the explosion rippled through the room, causing every piece of furniture to shudder and shake. Chairs flew across the room, books tumbled from shelves, and the walls themselves seemed to groan in protest.

"How Do You Know That?" Harry demanded with a low firm tone. Since killing those pets during the match, he felt his vision was more precise now. He could feel things he hadn't felt before, and one thing he noticed he had never seen before about Albus Dumbledore.

What the hell is that, Wand? Harry thought warily. He could feel it, hidden in Dumbledore's robes. The power radiating from it was overwhelming. A sense of unease began to wash over him, like waves slamming against him. Whatever that wand was, it was beyond any other wand, Harry could tell the Professor could use the wand if he wanted to, but instead, he was keeping his hands hidden.

"Mister Potter, please calm down," Dumbledore said, his voice initially gentle but growing more commanding as he continued, his demeanor shifting from casual to a more serious one. His eyes, usually twinkling with warmth, now held a guardedness as he regarded Harry with caution, knowing all too well the power of the young wizard's emotions. Dumbledore knew that the situation at hand was delicate, for Harry's temper was known to flare up at the slightest provocation, and his actions could have severe consequences.

Harry knew despite his new power. He was still not more powerful than Dumbledore. He could try it, but he knew he would lose. With that thought in mind, he lowered his arms, the circles disappearing, turning into tiny sparkles that faded one by one, but his golden eyes stayed that way. He could see things through them, things that usually were impossible to detect.

"Reparo," Harry murmured, with no wand in his hand; Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly but kept his emotions at bay as the destroyed table and pieces of furniture were repaired by Harry's magic. As Harry lowered himself onto the hard wooden chair, he couldn't help but glance warily at the old professor standing before him, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something. The tense silence that hung in the air was palpable, and Harry felt a knot form in his stomach. However, it quickly became apparent that the headmaster was not wary of him.

With a casual and friendly voice, Albus Dumbledore extended his arm and pointed to a tall glass filled with freshly squeezed lemonade before kindly asking Harry, "Would you care for a refreshing glass of lemonade, my boy?" The aroma of the citrus fruit wafted through the air as the ice cubes clinked against the glass. Harry simply stared at him with the same golden eyes, unimpressed.

"How do you know about Holy Magic? Only House Potter knows." Harry's voice rang out, his eyes blazing with an icy intensity as he directed his piercing gaze toward Dumbledore. He hadn't told his friends, he hadn't told anyone, not even Tonks nor Hermione, he would have kept secret and would reveal it only to his future children, he would use it but never tell anyone what exactly it was, so how did Dumbledore know about it.

Did he read my father's mind? Harry thought, his emotions slowly rising to the surface and making his skin tingle with a prickling sensation, his golden eyes shining like a golden ring under sunlight. Knowing the professor had read his mind the first two years, he had been in Hogwarts and had tried in the third year but failed only because his Holy Magic was activated and prevented him from being manipulated and read.

Dumbledore took a deep breath, knowing what he would say would decide the future. He knew his own time was running out. He wouldn't be around forever, Harry was already strong enough to give any of the professors a good challenge, and Harry had been using his Holy Magic only for half a year now; Dumbledore wasn't sure what Harry could do by the seventh year, just how powerful he would be. Dumbledore knew he needed to be cautious and choose his words wisely. He didn't want to have another Tom Riddle on his hands.

"Your great grandfather, Arthur Potter, was a friend of mine back in the day. I met him in my first year at Hogwarts. We became friends on the first day. I found out through him." Dumbledore replied to the question with a simple and straightforward answer, his voice carrying an unmistakable tone of sincerity that was as genuine as it was reassuring

Harry growled upon hearing that. "He told you. Why?" Harry all but demanded. That secret shouldn't be said to anyone but the members of House Potter. Why would he decide to tell an outsider?

"Arthur was a good man, Harry. And when Grindelwald grew in power, we needed more power to counter him somewhat. Arthur told me of the secret." Dumbledore explained with a calm tone; Harry narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to believe that his great-grandfather had let such a big secret slip up.

Venefecia told me that she was the last user of the Holy Magic and that holy magic would manifest itself within the first decade the baby was born. I was the exception because of whatever blocked it, but why would my great-grandfather tell Dumbledore if he wasn't a user of it, Harry thought, not understanding the reason behind it. Holy Magic was extremely rare, even amongst the Potter Family.

Harry remembered that Venefecia told him that so far in The Wizard's history, there had been only five Potters, including Harry, who could use Holy Magic. Venefecia was the last one before Harry, and she had died over two centuries ago.

Harry knew there was something off here. He looked at Dumbledore again. "Why would my great-grandfather tell you such vital information? He was no user. Even if you were at war against Grindelwald, he was no user, so why would he tell you?" Harry demanded with anger and mistrust seeping into his voice. The very air around him seemed to crackle with tension as he fixed his unwavering gaze on the object of his ire.

Dumbledore wondered how Harry knew for certain that Arthur was no user, but asking that wouldn't give him any positive points with the boy. Therefore he decided not to ask questions for now.

As Dumbledore sat in his high-backed chair, his hand unconsciously found its way to his long, flowing beard, which he stroked thoughtfully as he gazed fixedly at Harry's golden eyes. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth, which cast flickering shadows across the walls. "Arthur believed that anyone from House Potter was able to use it if certain conditions were met. Me and Grindelwald were two young wizards with big dreams. We were both idealistic, genuinely wanting to change the world for the better. Our ideas were similar, and we believed we could work together to achieve our goals. But as time passed, we began to realize that our paths diverged. Grindelwald's vision became darker, more twisted, while mine remained focused on the greater good. It was a painful realization, but we knew we could no longer be allies." Dumbledore's eyes drifted to his hands, which were now tightly clasped together on his lap. His skin, once smooth and unblemished, was now covered in a scattering of freckles - a sign of his age and experience.

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen Professor Dumbledore look so vulnerable. His voice sounded full of regret and self-loathing.

"What does my Great Grandfather has to do with you and Grindelwald?" Even though he knew this topic was obviously a hard one for the professor to discuss, he wanted answers. The professor took a deep breath as if preparing himself to relive a painful memory and began to recount the tale of how his own family had been affected by Grindelwald's reign of terror.

"Arthur was in love with my sister, Ariana. I believe they loved each other deeply. I had reasons to believe that Arthur was waiting for the right moment to ask my parents for her hand when..." Dumbledore stopped talking, his voice changing into one full of regret and sadness, his lips pressing into a thin line. He looked at his hands; Harry could see his old eyes welling up with tears, but the old professor refused to cry, at least not in front of Harry.

Harry understood it was hard for Professor to speak about it, but he wondered if the professor was keeping something hidden from him. "Professor, I can come back later," he suggested, making a movement to stand up from the chair. But just as he did, Dumbledore raised his hand for him to stop. With a calm and steady voice, he said, "Harry, I appreciate your willingness to come back, but I believe it is important that we finish our discussion now. There are matters at hand that require our immediate attention." Harry nodded, sinking back into his chair.

"I need to tell you more," Dumbledore added. Silence fell over the room as Dumbledore took a sip of his refreshing lemonade, the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass before continuing.

"Something happened, and my sister died. Arthur believed he could use Holy Magic to bring her up." He took another sip from the lemonade. "That's why he told me about House Potter's secret," he said, his gaze fixed on his own reflection in the glass. "He knew the Potter family had a long history of using powerful magic to achieve the impossible. He hoped that their knowledge and expertise would help us bring my sister back."

Harry was a little shocked. There was no such thing as bringing people back from the dead. "Bring people back from the dead? That's impossible. Even Holy Magic doesn't have that kind of power," Harry retorted, his voice laced with a tinge of doubt. He couldn't fathom the existence of any supernatural force that could defy the laws of nature and reanimate the deceased.

"For that, we both agree, Harry. Someone who is truly dead cannot be brought back, but I was a foolish boy back then. I truly believed that me and Arthur could bring back Ariana, and for a long time, I did. Eventually, I accepted that it wasn't possible." Dumbledore stopped talking momentarily, his throat turning sour at the memory.

"Arthur never rested. He hoped there was a way. Even decades after her death, he still held into that hope that she could be brought back. I don't know what drove him for so long. One night, Arthur got his hand on a Powerful Holy Spell, saying he could bring back Ariana with it, but the same night. I tried to warn him, saying that he should move on and live with his wife and children. One week later, his body was found dead in the forest near the house." Dumbledore explained with a grimy look on his face as he laid his glass back on the table.

Harry stumbled back against the chair. He felt bad for him; Harry didn't want to imagine what would happen if something happened to either Hermione or Tonks, even Ron, who was a good friend. Soon Harry looked back at the professor.

"Did you ever tell anybody else?" Harry asked after a short pause between them.

"No. And I never will. You don't need to worry about the incident during the game. I will tell everyone that you simply used a Patronus Charm to make the Dementors go away. The ministry won't be able to do anything." Dumbledore explained, but Harry still pressed his lips into a thin line.

"That doesn't excuse their incompetence. The dementors almost killed me twice. They are nothing but incompetent fools who have no idea what they are doing. Do you expect me to let that slide? What if I died from the Dementors? I could have easily been two meters deep into the ground by now." Despite the fury and anger in his voice, his voice wasn't raised. Harry didn't allow himself to shout. He knew he needed to control his emotions.

Dumbledore let out a weary sigh, knowing Harry wouldn't back down from this, but the problem with the ministry ran deep. When Tom returned, he didn't want to fight on two fronts. He needed a way. The might of the ministry was important for the future war.

"I understand your anger, Harry. You're completely justified, and I won't try to sway you into believing me or turning a blind eye. I only ask that you wait until the whole Sirius Black ordeal ends." Dumbledore requested, hoping his student would understand, but Harry seemed he wasn't done yet.

"Why did brought me to the Dursleys? There were magical families that could have raised me. So why did you leave me there?" Harry demanded, his eyes glittering again. The old professor seemed to be in deep thought, looking as if he was thinking about whether he should answer or not. Until Fawkes let out a melodic sound before flying on top of Harry's shoulder, the boy was surprised. Before scratching the top of his head, Fawkes seemed to be enjoying the attention as Harry scratched the top of his head, feeling the soft and warm feathers under his fingertips. Dumbledore looked at his friend with a smile hidden by his beard.

"Do you know what a Horcrux is, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, straightening himself up, before clearing his throat and leaning over the desk.

Harry simply shook his head for an answer.

Dumbledore cleared his throat before talking. "Well..."

Later

As he pushed open the heavy wooden door, he could feel all eyes on him, the weight of their gazes like a physical force. He knew they could see the anger etched on his face, the tension in his shoulders, the clenched fists at his sides. Tonks, who was at the far right end of the hall, really wished she could talk to him but figured she could later, right now she needed to follow the protocol and stay on her guard, despite knowing Sirius Black was not an issue and was far away from Hogwarts.

As Hermione saw Harry approaching, her face lit up with a bright smile, and she eagerly gestured for him to come to sit beside her. However, as soon as Harry arrived, she could sense the anger emanating from him, as his footsteps were heavy and his mood was clearly sour. Despite this, Hermione remained calm and collected, patting the spot next to her invitingly, hoping to ease his frustration. To her dismay, it seemed that everyone in the hall had noticed Harry's mood, even Ron, who gulped whatever was in his mouth before addressing him.

"You alright, mate?" It was only then that Ron noticed the way Hermione leaned in close to Harry, whispering something in his ear before their hands intertwined under the table, despite not knowing the specifics of their whispered conversation. While he was happy for them, he could see his mate wasn't in a good mood. Ron wondered what he could do if anything at all.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked him with a hushed tone.

"Nothing happened. I'm fine, thank you. Hermione. I really appreciate your concern." Harry's words were sincere, and he flashed a genuine smile at her before leaning in to give her a friendly kiss on the cheek. Hermione blushed a deep shade of red, feeling a flutter in her chest, which was noticed by the Gryffindor table. The boys, especially the mischievous twins, erupted into a chorus of giggles and playful teasing, praising Harry's chivalrous charm and Hermione's endearing reaction.

"Our Little Harry."

"Is becoming."

"A Man." The twins cried out while wiping away fake tears, earning looks of disbelief from the many wizard and witches around them.

Harry laughed along, his mind going back to what Dumbledore told him. His mind was completely occupied, and he felt exhausted. Once Christmas starts, I will train every day whenever Voldemort returns. I will bring him down, him and anyone who follows him, Harry thought with determination, but first, he would deal with the Ministry, he just needed to get stronger first, and the upcoming holiday was a perfect opportunity to practice his Holy Magic.