Chapter Text
Tuesday, 11 June 2024
In the five and a half years Harry had been an Avenger, he had done a lot. Alongside Tony and Steve and Thor and Wanda and all the others on the superhero team, he had faced many crises that threatened the Earth and its people, and every time he had helped save the world. Sure, there had been setbacks – including the time that Wanda very nearly went off the deep end after her brother was injured on a mission – but the Earth still spun on its axis and circled in its orbit, and the people upon it lived happy and healthy lives under the protection of their defenders.
Harry took great pride in that fact and in knowing that everything he did was taking the world one step closer to accepting its hidden magical side. There were talks of a formal vote to end the Statute soon, with the potential of bringing it down as soon as the start of 2025.
But as much excitement as Harry normally felt at the prospect of seeing his lifelong vision of a world united and at peace come to pass, today was not a day for excitement. No, it was a day for mourning – the seven-year anniversary of the Final Battle, the end of the War of the Dark Coalition. Many lives, both good and evil, had been lost that day, and Harry knew how important it was to honor fallen heroes.
The eleventh of June wasn’t really a good day for Harry. While he’d gotten his mental health straightened out well enough between talks with Rose, Ginny, Dudley, and ex-therapist Sam Wilson, 11 June was a day prone to self-doubt and vicious spirals of self-reflection. It was little surprise, then, that his feet took him to 177A Bleecker Street – the New York Sanctum of the Masters of Mystic Arts.
A knock on the door and he was teleported in to sit across from a man he had grown to know well and respect over the years – Dr. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme.
“What brings you by, Harry?” he asked. He waved his hands in a complex gesture that summoned a beautiful antique china set filled with boiling water being steeped in the highest-quality leaves. “Tea?”
“Yes, please,” Harry said as he took a cup and sipped the wonderfully prepared beverage daintily. “It’s the day, Stephen, you know.”
“June eleventh,” Strange said. “The Final Battle. I am sorry, you know…”
“I know,” Harry cut him off. “I’ve seen the kinds of things you face, how hard you’ve had to work to rebuild your order over the past few years. Apologies aren’t necessary. But, like I always do on this day, I’ve gotten stuck wondering… what if? What if we had just used the Soul Stone to end Voldemort before he could start the war, and damn the consequences? It was my choice, I know, and things all worked out in the end, but still… I wonder. I’ll always wonder.”
“And you want to know,” Strange guessed as he pulled out the amulet he kept always on his chest. The Eye of Agamotto, the Time Stone, the only Infinity Stone still in active use since the scattering after Thanos’s death.
“For better, Doctor, or for worse. Even though it won’t change anything that happened. For the sake of everyone who died in that war – I need to know.”
Strange paused for a while in contemplation, and Harry let him think. His request wasn’t a small one, after all. “Very well,” Strange said eventually. “I’ll try to get the Time Stone to show you. But I will only do it once, for one possible outcome.”
“I understand,” Harry said.
“Good,” said Strange as he performed the gestures to unlock the Eye of Agamotto and unleash the power of Time. The Stone inside glowed green as Strange manipulated it for a few minutes. Eventually, a beam of green light began to shine out onto a nearby wall like an old-style projector. The illumination was a solid color for a second before it started to form into a full-color image, though one tinted Time Stone green. It showed Albus Dumbledore, may his soul be at peace, sitting opposite Harry in the Headmaster’s Office. He recognized the scene – it was the moment they had met concerning the Soul Stone, Rose, and Draco’s plot to murder him. A critical point in time, to be sure, and the moment at which the decision not to use the Soul Stone had been sealed with Dumbledore’s agreement.
“Here goes, Harry,” Strange said. “This is supposed to be a representative timeline in which the Soul Stone was used early. One last time – are you sure you want know?”
“Very sure, Doc,” Harry said.
“In that case…”
A green triangle pointing right briefly appeared in the corner of the projected image, and the two figures began to move, their words sounding through the room…
Monday, 11 January 2016
“Blame my friends,” said Harry as the intense meeting with Dumbledore wrapped up. “For the wisdom and for the belief that anything is possible. Good night, Headmaster.”
“Good night, Harry.”
Harry walked down the circular staircase, leaving the Head’s Office behind him. He contemplated the long meeting he’d had with Dumbledore…
Meanwhile, in the office behind him, Albus Dumbledore contemplated all he had learned from his young and brilliant student. He drew the Elder Wand and twirled in his hands. He’d long suspected that the so-called Deathly Hallows were not truly bound to Death, but mere creations of man. Now, Harry had proven him right with this discovery and revealed the secret of the Peverell brothers’ success (or failure, depending on how you viewed the fable and the truth behind it).
The Soul Stone!
The very name inspired him, the words spoke of deep and incredible strength. And given what they had learned about Voldemort’s hundreds of horcruxes, this Soul Stone offered a chance to turn the tide. To end the war. To make Tom Riddle mortal again.
Harry had warned him against using the Stone, and he even had some good reasons. But Harry Potter was just a child, an intelligent and knowledgeable child but a child nonetheless. He had been scared off by his ancestor’s stories of terrible prices, of horrible costs that the Soul Stone would exact. Dumbledore had long known this was true, that some magics would exact a cost. Just as he knew that, just sometimes, the costs demanded were worth it. If this Soul Stone asked for his life, he would gladly give it, for he was soon to die anyway at Severus’s hand. (He did not really believe that Harry and his friends, clever as they were, could find a way to save both him and Severus. Unbreakable Vows were not called that because they could be broken by determined schoolchildren.)
Resolved on his course, he spent a few hours finalizing his affairs, a process he’d already begun since learning of Severus’s Vow. With that completed, he stood up from his desk and took a look around the Head’s Office. It was a beautiful place, one that he had made his own through the addition of numerous decorations and knickknacks. He bade farewell to his favorite former headmasters and completely brushed off Phineas Nigellus Black’s attempts at butting in. He went to pet Fawkes, taking comfort in the soothing feathers and uplifting song of the immortal firebird. And finally, he pushed open the door to his office and stepped onto the spiral staircase, letting it spin him down to the gargoyle-guarded entryway.
His first stop was Gryffindor Tower, his former House and a place of which he still thought fondly. The Fat Lady opened without evening demanding a password to admit him entrance – he was, after all, Headmaster of Hogwarts. A simple charm ensured that none of the students still awake would pay attention to him as he passed through the common room and up the boys’ stairs.
Arriving at the sixth years’ level, Dumbledore noted that the beds were all but empty despite how late it was, though there were some interesting spells trying to convince him otherwise. He quickly found Harry’s bed and the trunk beneath it. The trunk was well-protected by any standards, amateur or professional, but those protections were no match for the prowess of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, wielder of the Elder Wand. Most could not hold him off for five minutes. Harry’s trunk took him fifteen, and not an easy fifteen by any means. But once he was in, he quickly dug through clothes and books to find a certain silvery Cloak being stored within.
Two Hallows down, and one, the most important one, to go.
With the Wand in his hand and the Cloak in his pocket, Dumbledore cast a tracking charm to locate the Stone. While such a thing would normally fail, the power of the Elder Wand and the connection between the Hallows let it succeed. His Wand guided him down and down to the second floor and Myrtle’s bathroom. A conjured snake under a compulsion charm got the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets open – an ingenious hiding place and a wonderful use of a formerly dark lair, in his opinion – and he enjoyed the slide down.
The Chamber he encountered was far different from what he’d imagined from Harry’s descriptions four years ago. It was bright and filled with color and far larger than Dumbledore thought it could be. Space expansion charms, likely, another impressive feat to the credit of Harry’s group. Inside the Chamber, students of all houses, all ages, all backgrounds lived and laughed and learned together. It was a beautiful sight, one that Dumbledore would have taken the chance to appreciate more were he not on such an urgent mission.
The tracking spell took him on a convoluted, winding path that his innate sense of direction insisted would have caused him to loop back on himself numerous times. But Dumbledore trusted his magic, and he trusted that nothing could fool the Elder Wand, so he followed the strange trail until its conclusion, a closed and locked door. The locking, again, was impressive but not beyond his skill and power to breach.
He stepped through and found a small room in which several objects were displayed, each one radiating magical power. But he had no use for those objects except for one – a small black Stone that took up a central position. As he got closer, he saw that the Stone was indeed the one he was looking for, for it bore the sigil of the Hallows, his and his one-time love’s sign, upon it.
Grasping the Resurrection Stone, Albus Dumbledore united the Hallows for the first time since their creation. Holding the True Cloak in his left hand and the Deathstick in his right and placing the Stone upon the floor before him, he gathered all his magic and forced it into a single spell.
“Reducto!” he shouted, and a wave of blasting magic emanated from the Elder Wand toward its sibling Hallow, causing the black covering to shatter and reveal a glowing orange Stone within.
This, Dumbledore knew, was the Soul Stone itself. An object of infinite power. And one which would win the war.
There was no spell for what he wanted to do. No wand movement, no incantation. Instead, Dumbledore merely grasped the Soul Stone and, without hesitation or second guessing, focused his will through it.
“Unmake and cleanse all of Voldemort’s horcruxes,” he willed, “and prevent him from making any more. Take any price you require.”
He felt the power within the Soul Stone stir and respond to him, spreading through him and throughout the world. As its magic began to grow hotter and hotter, burning him alive almost, Albus Dumbledore nevertheless died with a smile, for he knew in his heart that his death would render Lord Voldemort a mortal man again.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tuesday, 12 January 2016
The first person to know of Albus Dumbledore’s death was Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, who suddenly felt the magical mantle of Headmistress fall upon her shoulders, waking her up sharply as the wards of Hogwarts began to align with her.
The second person to know was Ginny Weasley. She’d been sharing a bed with her boyfriend when said boyfriend woke her up by thrashing and screaming. His scar, which had always been red and fresh but quiescent, was no active, letting loose magical smoke and a tar-like substance in the manner of a horcrux being destroyed. By her guess, it was the horcrux in his scar somehow being destroyed. Based on the echo of power that was still heavy in the air, power which reminded her of her Excalibur, she had a very strong feeling she knew what was going on, especially given the conversation Harry had had with the Headmaster the previous evening.
The first to find Dumbledore’s body lying in the room of precious artifacts in the Chamber of Secrets was Neville, but only by chance. He, Ron, Hermione, and Luna had all been woken up by the wave of soul magic and all of them had gone running toward the room housing the Resurrection Stone in order to check on its status.
Somberly levitating the fallen wizard’s corpse back into the main castle, they somehow managed to avoid saying exactly where they’d found said corpse, only that Dumbledore had been examining an artifact related to the war effort that he’d been storing in the castle and had suffered a fatal accident.
The funeral happened two days later. Everyone who was anyone was in attendance as the venerable old wizard was laid to rest in a marble tomb. He was dressed in his best (and least eye-offending) robes and he bore his wand in his hand. Only it wasn’t really his wand but a replica that Harry had conjured. With Dumbledore giving his life to the Soul Stone, the Elder Wand had been left without a clear master, yet it had somehow decided to latch onto him – maybe defaulting to the last Peverell, maybe choosing Dumbledore’s “successor”, or maybe just because it liked powerful wizards and that’s what Harry was. Fawkes the phoenix sang a final lament as he circled the sky above the sad affair before vanishing into a burst of flame.
The funeral was beautiful, but in the days leading up to it, not all was well. Whispers began to spread through the population of Wizarding Britain. Their greatest defender, the Only One He Ever Feared, was gone, and the Boy-Who-Lived, as powerful as he had shown himself to be at the Atrium, was just that – a boy. Not exactly the shining beacon of wise leadership for all to follow that Albus Dumbledore had been.
Lord Voldemort and his Inner Circle heard the news with glee. Despite his familiar Nagini vanishing, he hardly cared – for all her value to him, Nagini was just one of hundreds of horcruxes, and he didn’t really need a familiar at all except for additional intimidation purposes. Likely some traitor had decided that offing her would be a major blow against him. (That someone could have struck a blow at all of his horcruxes, Lord Voldemort could not imagine. Only when, a few weeks later, he decided to make another one would he start to wonder…) He decided to postpone his upcoming meetings with potential foreign allies – after all, with Dumbledore dead, consolidating his hold on Britain would be easy enough.
Severus Snape was at once relieved and tense. Relieved that he would not have to murder a good man in order to fulfill his Vow. An Unbreakable Vow would be rendered void if its requirement became physically impossible to fulfill – for instance, vowing to kill a man who was already dead. But tense because the only thing left standing between the Dark Lord and complete control of Wizarding Britain was the son of James Potter.
In the Chamber of Secrets, a worried sextet gathered for an emergency meeting the evening after the funeral.
“Dumbledore made Voldemort mortal,” Harry said, reading off of a letter which Dumbledore had written to him on the night of his passing, a letter which had been delivered by Headmistress McGonagall a few hours earlier. “His intent was to unmake all of Voldemort’s horcruxes and to stop him from making any more.”
“Given what we know about the Soul Stone’s power,” Ginny opined, “and what we observed about Harry’s scar and the horcruxes we’d already gathered, the former definitely happened. As for the latter… well, we can hope. And the Asgardian device is still functioning.”
She gestured to the device in question, which was sitting activated in front of her. It displayed a grand total of zero total active horcruxes with the same soul signature as Voldemort. That, at least, was good news.
“But what was the price?” Ron wondered. “Beyond the obvious, I mean.”
“Couldn’t it be just the obvious?” Neville offered. “I mean, we know that splitting a soul is bad, with a capital B. Against the very laws of nature. Thor called Voldemort an Abomination because of it. Maybe the Stone decided that taking Dumbledore’s life was enough payment?”
“Maybe,” said Luna, “but… I wouldn’t count on it. And before you ask, no, I don’t See anything. Just a bit of intuition.”
“All we can do now,” said Hermione, “is prepare for Voldemort’s next move. It will either be Hogwarts or the Ministry. If it’s the latter, I’ve been working well with Minister Bones and will collaborate with her on security protocols. And if we need to defend Hogwarts…”
“The stones of this castle and the ground on which it rests will not fall into his hands,” Neville swore, “not so long as I am here.”
“We’ll do everything we can to defend Hogwarts,” Ron agreed, “and that includes rallying the DA. But if it’s Ministry, things will get trickier. It’s not our home ground.”
Harry sighed. “Then, as much as I hate to say it… let’s hope that it’s the castle that gets attacked.”