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Author: Imogen Story: Alpha and Omega Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: Completed Reviews: 4 Words: 99,172
Chapter 4: Revelations and Reactions "I could lie down like a tired child And weep away the life of care, Which I have borne and yet must bear." Percy Bysshe Shelley: "Stanzas written in Dejection, Near Naples" ***** Harry exchanged puzzled glances with Ginny. He couldn't for an instant imagine what Dumbledore would need to talk to him about that couldn't have waited until they returned to school at the beginning of September. Ginny looked equally perplexed, and with a slight shake of her head, she wandered across the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove to boil. "Shall we get out of the way?" Ron asked after a short, rather awkward, pause. "Yes dear," Mrs Weasley responded, sounding most unlike herself. "I think that might be best for now. I'm sure there's something you can be getting on with." "Come on then, Ron," Hermione urged, clearly struggling under the weight of the books in her arms. With a last glance back at Harry and Ginny, they left the room, closing the door firmly behind them. There was silence. "Anyone want a cup of tea?" Ginny asked, clattering nervously around with mugs and the teapot. "Please," Harry answered, heading across to help her. Her hands shook as she lifted the teapot towards her, making the china lid clink loudly against the solid roundness of the pot. The close oppressiveness of an impending thunderstorm made the tension worse. "I think tea is an excellent idea," Dumbledore responded warmly, alleviating some of the worry Harry was feeling. He conjured a large plate of chocolate biscuits out of nowhere, and let them drift slowly onto the table. He turned to Mr Weasley. "I do recommend these, Arthur. They're based on a century old Muggle recipe. It really is fascinating what they can do without magic, isn't it?" "Well, we can't have done anything too bad," Harry whispered in Ginny's ear, taking advantage of the conversation between the adults. She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. "Unless chocolate biscuits are his idea of a final meal before execution," she replied in an undertone, pouring the boiling water onto the tea leaves, and watching the clear liquid swirl into an amber nectar. "I don't know what it could be, Harry." "Well, there was a bit of snogging in a few broom cupboards last term," he chuckled quietly, and she grinned back. "But I can't imagine he'd come here about that. You don't think it could be something to do with Voldemort, do you?" "But what?" she whispered, her brow furrowed in bewilderment. She turned and carried the tea things over to the table, settling down opposite Dumbledore, with Harry sliding in beside her. Harry looked curiously at his Headmaster. Dumbledore was looking older than Harry had ever seen him, the flowing white hair and beard shone in the fragments of evening sunlight that penetrated the overcast sky, but that was the liveliest bit about him. The bright blue eyes showed evidence of weariness behind their genial glint, and it was obvious that the recent struggles were taking their toll; wrinkles had deepened on that learned face. "Now Harry," Dumbledore began gently. Harry gripped his tea cup a little more tightly wondering what was coming. "There are a few things we need to talk about today; things which I fear you have been wondering about for quite some time, and for which I have, until now, offered you no explanation. Now that you are an adult wizard, I feel that this is the time, for you need to know everything so that you can prepare yourself for what is to come. Unless you have any objections, I would suggest that Mr and Mrs Weasley stay for this." Harry exhaled slowly and nodded. So this was what Dumbledore wanted. There had always been a lot of unanswered questions, things that had never quite fitted together, to do with his parents, Voldemort and his own survival as a baby. He had learned pieces of information as he had grown older, but the jigsaw had never fitted together. "I want to know," he said with determination, looking straight at Dumbledore. He felt Ginny's hand slide into his own, their fingers interlocking firmly. He smiled. With Ginny he could face anything, whatever the truth may be. "Very well," Dumbledore said, sounding grave. "I think the place we need to begin is the evening your parents died, Harry. You remember parts of that event, of course." "Yes," Harry responded, gripping Ginny's hand a little more tightly. "When the Dementors were at Hogwarts back in the third year, I heard it. My… my dad tried to hold off Voldemort, to give my mum a chance to escape with me, but… but she didn't. I remember her screaming at him, begging him to kill her and not me. That was the worst bit with the Dementors, you know. Just listening to…" He broke off, and lifted a trembling mug to his mouth, feeling the warming liquid spread through him. "That's right," Dumbledore said gently. "Voldemort had been seeking out your family for quite some time, Harry. We were all aware of that, which is how I came to suggest the Fidelius Charm. Of course, Lily was never in direct danger, but she'd have never left you or James, and that charm seemed to be the best way to proceed with Sirius as Secret Keeper." "Yes, I remember you telling me this," Harry said. "I know my mum died to save me." " She did it because Voldemort was after you," Dumbledore reminded him gently. "But why?" Harry thudded his cup back down on the table and stared at Dumbledore. "I was only fifteen months old. What could I have done against a wizard as powerful as that?" "I think we all know what you did do to him at that age," Dumbledore responded, a small twinkle appearing in his eye again. "None of us were expecting that to occur. What we did know, was that as James' son, you were likely to provide a threat to Voldemort's ascent to power." "I was?" Harry was feeling more and more bewildered by the second. A low rumble of thunder reverberated ominously around the stillness of the room, the clouds hanging heavier and darker still. Mrs Weasley silently got to her feet and began to light some candles with whispered spells. "Yes, Harry," Dumbledore continued, in that same low tone. "You see, your father was very much fulfilling his destiny with what he did. You know about Aurors, and what they do, but James was far more than that. Far more. Have you ever come across the idea of Truitinae Bonitas in your studies?" Harry shook his head, listening intently. "It is not a common thing, in fact it is extremely rare and the sign of a very powerful wizard. The Potter line is the only one that remains as far as I am aware. It is a gift or a curse, depending on how you look at it, Harry. It must begin with someone who is born in that unique second of time when the planets are in perfect equilibrium, the point where everything hangs in the balance. Good and evil, life and death are all there as one. The person born at this pinpoint of eternity has the ability to dramatically alter these ultimate balances in the way they choose. This happened many generations back in your family, and has been handed down magically from father to son since, picking up impetus and strength as it has gone on. Your father chose to fight for the good, against the Death Eaters, their rise to power and what they intended on doing to our world." "So that's why he died," Harry whispered, sensing Ginny's hand clutching his more tightly. "That was part of the reason," Dumbledore said gently. "He needed to kill your father so that his power could increase without the threat. Without James, his path to domination was virtually unchecked." "Then why does he want Harry dead too?" Ginny asked curiously. "Are you saying that this is somehow handed down to him now?" "I suppose I am," Dumbledore smiled at her genially. "It's certainly there in the balance of planets when he was born, and if Harry actually did his Divination homework rather than inventing it, he would have seen it in his birth chart." He paused, and Harry blushed under the sparkling amusement of his gaze. "Generations of the Potter family have been fighting for the good, and whether he realises it or not, Harry has been too. Think about it Harry. You should be able to recognise within yourself the need to strive for what is right, to protect things at all costs. You've done it over and over again: going to save the Philosopher's Stone from Quirrell, protecting Ginny with your life on more than one occasion, the battles against Voldemort you've gone through in recent years. He recognises this power in you, and that is why he never seems to leave you alone. The longer he leaves it, the more powerful a wizard you will be." "Well, that explains a lot," Harry said, his mind reeling with all the information. "I-I don't know what to say." He looked at Dumbledore, a sea of emotions swirling around inside him. "What am I meant to do about this?" "You could ignore it," Dumbledore said, looking steadily at him. "Or you could rise to its challenges. The decision there is yours, and yours alone. One other thing you do need to know, however, is the existence of an archaic prophecy, which states that the fall of the Dark Lord will come about through one of the Potter line. That also would have been a contributing factor in what happened sixteen years ago." "Right," Harry said vaguely, reflecting through what Dumbledore had said. "You mean, it really is down to me?" "It's not all on your shoulders, Harry, but yes, the time will come when you will need to face Voldemort for a final conflict. I suspect you've always known that would happen." "Yes, we know that," Ginny said softly, and Harry saw her dark brown eyes take on a haunted expression. He slid his arm comfortingly around her, oblivious to her parents higher up the table. "I do, however, expect you to finish school first," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes penetrating deeply into Harry's. "Things are getting worse, I don't intend to conceal that from you, but further practise in Defence Against the Dark Arts can only be a good thing." The rain began falling steadily, dripping against the window panes accompanied by the low growl of the thunder from beyond the distant hills. Harry stared at the window opposite, watching a solitary droplet trace its way, wriggling this way and that, as it slipped and slid towards the sill. It merged with another questing on its journey and both plummeted downward to their doom at far greater speed. "So what now?" Harry asked, feeling slightly restless. "I can't just sit here and do nothing." "No," Dumbledore agreed. He hesitated slightly for a moment, and looked steadily at them before he continued. "There is one other thing I would like you both to consider." "What?" Harry asked eagerly. "Harry, you know there is the possibility that you may not survive this," Dumbledore said quietly. Harry nodded. He had faced up to that particular nightmare a long time ago. "And yet the Clairmoon Prophecy indicates quite clearly that Voldemort can only be truly brought from power by you, or one of your family." "Well, I'm the last surviving Potter," Harry said, frowning slightly. "So I suppose that'd mean I'm going to be the one to do it. Wouldn't it?" "Not necessarily," Dumbledore said gravely. "And if he kills you, then there is not much hope for the future. Which is why, I fear, I must offer this suggestion to you." He paused and sighed heavily before continuing. "I would like you and Ginny to consider whether or not you would extend the Potter line in the reasonably near future." Harry felt like he had been punched in the stomach and winded. Had Dumbledore really just suggested that they...? He must have misheard. Surely he had. A baby? No. No, definitely not. It couldn't be. There was a horrified gasp from Mrs Weasley further along the table, and Harry glanced quickly towards them. Mr Weasley's face was impassive and grey as he watched Dumbledore carefully, Mrs Weasley was brightly flushed and looked rather as if she were about to burst into tears at any second. "Albus, you can't be serious," Mr Weasley said at last, his voice croaking considerably more than usual. "Ginny's not even seventeen until October. They've got school and…" "Unfortunately I am very serious," Dumbledore said gently. "Arrangements can be made at school. You know what it's like out there now, Arthur. Can you see any other way?" "It's ridiculous," Mrs Weasley burst out furiously. "They're only children themselves. How on earth can you expect…?" "Molly," Dumbledore interrupted firmly. "You know as well as I do, that neither of them have been living a typical childhood for quite some years now. Look at what they've been through together, or do I need to remind you? That enchanted diary, Ginny almost being killed by the Avada Kedavara, and everything that went on last year." Mrs Weasley winced at the remembrance. "I know we have a lot to thank Harry for," she said very emotionally. "And he's like one of our own now, but this just isn't fair on them. You can't ask them to do this. I won't allow it. There is absolutely no way…" "I think that's for them to decide," he responded quietly. "We know how they feel about each other, and I think that will give them the strength to carry them through. Both have shown time and time again that they are prepared to give their life to keep the other safe. Ginny, if you remember, performed that charm when she was only just fifteen, magically binding herself to Harry for life. That commitment is even stronger now." "When you've quite finished analysing our feelings," Harry burst out furiously, making all three adults look at him in surprise. He couldn't believe that they were even discussing something as outlandish as this. It was some form of nightmare; it had to be. "This is just… I don't know." He looked at Ginny for some sort of support, and found her staring transfixed at a knot on the wooden table, her hair falling from over her shoulders to conceal her face. Wildly he glanced at Dumbledore, confusion flooding through him. He had always trusted Dumbledore's judgement, but this was so out of the blue, and so shocking, he didn't know what to think. "How can you expect us to?" he asked, feeling as if he were being torn apart. "I mean, we've never… we've not done anything… I mean…No!" He vented a frustrated exclamation and ran his hands through his already untidy hair. The rain lashed ever more fiercely at the windows in the tense silence that followed. Harry put his arm protectively back round Ginny, trying to shield her from some of the hurt and confusion that he was feeling and found her unyielding to his touch, sitting in the same position, quite stiffly. "Gin?" he whispered fearfully, but received no response. "I believe I'm right in saying that you have been making a bit of an inventory of the Hogwarts broom cupboards," Dumbledore said, smiling at Harry. "That would imply that you are not entirely opposed to…" "That's entirely different, and you know it," Mrs Weasley interrupted fiercely. "Arthur and I were rather fond of the one by the Charms classrooms on the fourth floor, when we were there, but that doesn't mean anything." Had things been different, Harry would have been exchanging amused glances with Ginny at this revelation, but as things stood, the comment was barely noted. Harry regarded Ginny's barrier of hair, wondering what he could do. This whole thing was just hurting her, and he had to stop that, whatever it took. "Albus," Mr Weasley said, looking more strained than ever. "How do you expect two teenagers to manage something like this? Not to mention their schooling, there's also the threat from outside. What sort of danger would this put Ginny in?" "Don't talk about me as if I'm not here," Ginny yelled suddenly, leaping to her feet and slamming her chair back heavily into the dresser. Harry watched her in amazement. He had never seen her like this. She was totally white, eyes glittering as she trembled with either rage or fear, or perhaps a combination of the two. "I mean, what is this? Everyone else is sitting here so comfortably with chocolate biscuits, arguing about how my life is going to be? To listen to everything I've ever dreamed about turned upside down in one fell swoop?" She turned to Dumbledore, fury beginning to boil over. "I dare say you'd argue that it's only bringing the natural course of events forward a year or two, and you might well be right, but I'll tell you what: I want to do things my way. I am sick of having my life dictated by Voldemort. We have never been able to do normal stuff, and now you're saying we never will. I can't… I won't…" To Harry's horror, she broke off, and raising her hand to her mouth she flew to the door, in a whirl of hair and dress and fled outside into the storm. The door banged shut behind her, leaving a startled silence in the kitchen. "It's after the curfew," Mrs Weasley gasped, clearly distressed. "Oh Arthur! Anything could happen." "I know where she'll have gone," Harry started to his feet and dashed over to the door, grabbing a random sweater for Ginny from the back of a chair as he passed by. "I'll get her back as fast as I can," he shouted, heading quickly out into the rainy darkness of the night.
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