“After breakfast Sirius sent the Wealseys to bed. Instead of getting to sleep like my friends I got to have a talk with the Headmaster.”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck again. This was one of the most difficult parts of his story. He would have to explain everything, how he had seen the attack, what a Horcrux was and how he had been one for Voldemort and how that all related to the prophecy.
Harry let out a sigh. “I had never really talked to the Headmaster one on one. Well, that isn’t exactly true, but that was the first time that I had ever spoken to him outside of school.” Harry let out a long sigh, “That conversation changed everything.”
“I know I’ve said something remarkably like that before. The news that Professor Snape is dad did change my life. It did, it really did, but there’s a difference between being told man that you thought your dad isn’t and that somebody else is and that you would one day have to kill the evilest wizard ever to live.”
***
Harry pushed the door to the study open hesitantly. Sirius had told him that Dumbledore wanted to speak to him, but he wouldn’t say anything more than that. Sirius had also told him he wanted to be there with him; however, the Headmaster would not let him come. Harry let out another sigh and entered the room.
“Ah Harry, I wish this could be under better circumstances.” Dumbledore said gesturing Harry to take a seat across from in.
Harry nodded and took his seat.
“Unfortunately with the events of last night I am unable to but this off any longer. The attack on Arthur Weasley last night confirmed my worst fears.”
“Sir, I don’t understand.”
“You see, I guessed, fifteen year ago,” said Dumbledore, “When I saw the scar on your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort.”
“You’ve told me this before, professor,” said Harry bluntly. He did not care about being rude. He was too tired to care about anything very much anymore.
“Yes,” said Dumbledore apologetically. “Yes, but you see – it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent , shortly after you rejoined the magical world, I saw correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion.”
“I know,” said Harry wearily.
“And this ability of yours - to detect Voldemort’s presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused - has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers.”
Harry did not bother to nod. He knew all of this already.
“More recently,” said Dumbledore. “I became concerned that Voldemort might realize that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of last night’s events.”
“How do you know?” Harry demanded.
“I have my ways Harry, but that is not important now. I believe it is only a matter of time before Voldemort attempts to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort‘s assaults on your mind, I have arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. He will discuss the matter with you more in depth later Harry. I want you to work hard on this; I would not ask you do so if I did not think it was of the utmost importance.”
Harry did not know how to respond, so he nodded again.
“I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. My only defense is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any students who has ever passed through this school, and I could not bring myself to add another – greatest one of all.”
“It is time for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. I am going to tell you everything. Do you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, during your first year, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby?”
Harry nodded again. He waited, but Dumbledore did not speak.
“Why sir?”
“Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he had been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you.”
“There is a record of the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. Mr. Weasley was standing guard outside of it last night when he was attacked. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly.”
“Who heard it?” Asked Harry, though he thought he knew the answer already.
“I did,” said Dumbledore. “On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog’s Head Inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer, and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave.”
Dumbledore took from the inside of his robes a shallow stone basin, carved with runes around the edges, in which Harry had seen Barty Crouch Jr. dragged away to Azkaban. Dumbledore placed the Pensieve upon it the coffee table in front of him, and raised his wand to his own temple. From it, he withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands of thought clinging to the wand, and deposited them in the basin. He watched his thoughts swirl and drift inside the Pensieve for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he raised his wand and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.
A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her classes, and she revolved slowly, her feet in the basin. But when Sibyll Trelawney spoke, it was not in her usual ethereal, mystic voice, but in the harsh, hoarse tones Harry had her use once before.
“The one with the power to vanquish the Dar Lord approaches … both to those who have thrice defied the 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 slowly revolving Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mass below and vanished.
The silence within the room was absolute. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry made a sound.
“Professor Dumbledore?” Harry said very quietly, for Dumbledore, still starting at the Pensieve, seemed completely lost in thought. “It… did that mean… What did that mean?”
“It meant,” said Dumbledore, “that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times.”
Harry felt as though something was closing in upon him. His breathing seemed difficult again.
“It means - me?”
“I am afraid,” said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him a great effort, “that there is no doubt that is you.”
“Voldemort himself marked you as his equal when he gave you the scar that has proved both blessing and curse.”
“So,” said Harry, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him, “so does that mean that…that one of us has got to kill the other one…in the end?”
“Yes,” said Dumbledore.