HP Approaches the Magical World

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After walking for a few minutes, Harry saw a light ahead, and Yaxley and Dolohov came to a clearing where Harry knew the dreaded Aragog had once lived.

Its incomplete web was still there, but the offspring it bred had been driven off by the Death Eaters to fight for them.

In the center of the clearing was a bonfire, its flickering light illuminating a silent, alert crowd of Death Eaters.

Some remained covered and hooded, while others showed their faces.

Two giants sat on the periphery, casting huge shadows around them, their faces as cold and rough as carved in rock.

Harry saw Fenrir nibbling furtively at his long nails, and the big blond Roll gently rubbing his bleeding lips.

He saw Lucius Malfoy looking downcast and trembling, and Narcissa's eyes were sunken, full of horror.

Every eye was on Voldemort.

He stood there with bowed head, clasping the Elder Wand in front of him in his pale hands, as if praying, or counting silently, and Harry was still standing at the edge of the clearing, absurdly thinking of a man counting at a game of hide-and-seek. child.

Behind Voldemort's head, the serpent Nagini still floated, spinning and coiling in its gleaming magic cage like a gigantic halo.

Dolohov and Yaxley walked among the group, and Voldemort looked up.

"There is no shadow of him, master."

Voldemort's expression remained unchanged, and his red eyes seemed to be burning in the firelight.

He held the Elder Wand between his long fingers and twitched it slowly.

"Owner--"

It was Bellatrix who was speaking.

She was sitting closest to Voldemort, with disheveled hair, a little blood on her face, and no injuries.

Voldemort held up a hand to silence her, and she fell silent, her eyes fixed on Voldemort with fanaticism and admiration.

"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, watching the dancing flames, "I expected he would."

No one spoke. They all seemed as frightened as Harry, whose heart pounded against his ribs, as if determined to escape the body he was about to abandon. With sweaty hands he took off the cloak and tucked it, along with his wand, under his robes. He didn't want to be tempted, so he fought back.

"It seems... I was wrong."

said Voldemort.

"you're not wrong."

Harry mustered all his strength and turned his voice as loud as he could, he didn't want anyone to hear that he was afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from his numb fingers, and he stepped into the firelight, seeing out of the corner of his eye his parents, Sirius, and Lupine all gone. At this moment, he felt that no one else mattered except Voldemort. Just the two of them.

The illusion is fleeting. The Death Eaters were all on their feet, the giant roared, and there were shouts, gasps of surprise, and even laughter. Voldemort froze there, but those red eyes caught sight of Harry, watching Harry approaching him, with nothing but the campfire between them.

Then a voice called out—

"Harry! No!"

Harry turned around and saw that Hagrid was tied to a nearby tree, struggling desperately, his huge body shaking so that the branches above his head swayed.

"No! No! Harry, do you want to—?"

"Shut up!" shouted Roll, and with a wave of his wand, Hagrid fell silent.

Bellatrix had already jumped to her feet. She looked eagerly at Voldemort and then at Harry, her chest heaving violently. All that was moving were the flames and the snake, coiling and unwinding in the gleaming cage behind Voldemort's head.

Harry could feel the wand on his chest, but he didn't reach for it. He knew that the snake was so well guarded that even if he aimed his wand at Nagini, he would be hit by fifty spells first.

Voldemort and Harry were still looking at each other, and then Voldemort turned his head slightly to one side to study the boy standing in front of him, his lipless mouth writhing in an odd, dark smile.

"Harry Potter," he said, in a soft hiss like a burst of fire, "The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved, they were all waiting, everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, Bellatrix was panting, but Harry thought for no reason of Ginny, of her radiant look, and the feeling of her lips against his own—

Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still on one side, like a curious child wondering what was going to happen next. Harry looked straight into those red eyes, hoping that moment would come, as soon as possible, before he could stand, lose control, show fear—

Harry saw the mouth move, and there was a flash of green light, and everything disappeared.

But no one noticed that along with the flash of green light, there was another light coming into Harry's mind from the side.

Jon closed his eyes.

Harry lay face down, listening to the silence. He is all alone. No one was looking at him. No one else was around. He wasn't quite sure he was here.

After a long time, perhaps no time at all, he realized that he must exist, must not be just a disembodied mind, because he was lying, definitely lying, on the surface of something. So he is tactile, and the thing beneath him exists.

Having reached this conclusion, Harry realized almost immediately that he was naked. Believing that he was the only one here, he felt no embarrassment, only a little curiosity.

He had a sense of touch, so he wondered if he still had vision. He tried to open his eyes and found that he still had eyes.

He lay in bright mist, but unlike any he had seen before. It is not that the surrounding scenery is shrouded in cloud-like vapor, but that the cloud-like vapor has not yet formed the surrounding scenery. The ground on which he lay seemed white, neither hot nor cold, just a presence, a flat, empty thing.

He sat up, his body seemed unharmed. He touched his face, his glasses were gone.

A sound came to his ears from the unformed nothingness around him: the tiny thud of something flapping, swinging, struggling. This voice is pitiful, but also a little wretched.

He had an uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something secret and shameful.

At this time, he only wished that he was wearing clothes.

As soon as this idea took shape in his mind, a robe appeared not far away.

He took it and put it on: the robe was soft, clean and warm.

How strange that it just came out like that, the idea just occurred to him...

He stood up and looked around. Is he in a big room of Requirement?

The more he looked, the more he found that there were many things to see.

A huge dome of glass glistened in the sunlight high above his head.

Maybe it's a palace.

There was silence all around, only the weird crashing and whimpering sounds, coming from the nearby mist...

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and the surrounding scenery seemed to appear in front of his eyes.

A large expanse of space, bright and clean, a hall much larger than the auditorium, above which is the clear glass dome. The hall was empty except for him, except—

He flinched.

He saw the thing that made the sound.

The shape of that thing is a naked child, curled up on the ground, the red skin is very rough, it looks like a layer of skin has been peeled off, lying shivering under a seat, discarded, and stuffed indiscriminately There, struggling to breathe.

Harry was terrified.

Although the thing was small, weak, and injured, he didn't want to go near it. However, he moved over little by little, ready to withdraw at any time.

Soon, he was close enough to touch it, but he didn't have the guts to do so.

He felt like a coward.

He should have comforted it, but it repelled him.

"You can't help."

Harry turned sharply to find Albus Dumbledore walking towards him, straight-backed and brisk in his flowing dark blue robes.

"Harry."

He opened his arms, both hands were white and intact: "You are an excellent child.

You brave, brave man.

let's go. "

Dumbledore strode away from the red-skinned child who lay there whimpering, and Harry followed in a daze.

Dumbledore led the way to the two chairs that stood apart under the high, shiny roof, which Harry hadn't noticed earlier.

Dumbledore sat down in one chair, Harry in the other, staring blankly into the old Headmaster's face.

Although, he was played by Jon, but Harry obviously couldn't find this out.

Dumbledore's long, silvery hair and beard, those piercing blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles, that crooked nose: everything was just as he remembered it, yet...

"But you're dead."

"yes."

"So... I'm dead too?"

"Oh," the smile on Jon's face became more obvious: "That's a problem, isn't it? Generally speaking, my dear boy, I don't think so."

The two looked at each other, and the old man was still smiling.

"No?" Harry asked.

"No."

"But……"

Harry instinctively ran his hand over the lightning-shaped scar.

The scars seem to be gone.

"But I should be dead—I didn't resist! I was going to let him kill me!"

"I think that's what," said Jon, "makes a difference in the whole thing."

Joy radiated from Jon like light, like fire, and the magic was at its best.

Harry had never seen such pure, obvious relief from the old man.

Now, Jon is Dumbledore.

"Tell me in detail."

"Actually, you already know."

said Dumbledore.

He twirled two thumbs.

"I let him kill me," Harry said, "Didn't I?"

"Yes," Jon was thinking, so Dumbledore nodded outwardly: "Go on!"

"In this way, the part of his soul in my body..."

Dumbledore nodded more vigorously, and with an encouraging smile on his face, he urged Harry to continue.

"...it disappeared?"

"Yes!" said Dumbledore, "yes, he destroyed it.

Your soul is complete and all your own, Harry. "

"But……"

Harry turned his head to look at the injured little life trembling under the chair over there.

"What's that, Professor?"

"It's something we can't do anything about."

"But if Voldemort used the Killing Curse," Harry asked again, "and no one died for me this time - how could I possibly be alive?"

"I think you know," Jon said. "Look back and think of what he did out of ignorance and greed and cruelty."

Harry thought.

He let his eyes flick to the surrounding scenery. If it was a palace where they were sitting, it was a strange palace, with chairs here and there and railings.

But apart from him, Dumbledore, and the little life under the chair, there was no other living beings.

Then, effortlessly, the answer came to his lips with ease.

"He took my blood."

"Exactly!" Jon laughed, and that Dumbledore said, "He took your blood and used it to reshape his flesh and blood!

Your blood runs in his veins, Harry, and Lily's spell lives in both of you!

As long as he does not die, your life will not end either! "

"As long as he lives... I will live? But I thought... I thought... it was the other way around!

I thought we both had to die, didn't we?

Or is it actually the same thing? "

The painful life behind him kept whimpering and colliding. Harry was disturbed and turned his head to look again.

"Do you really think we can't do something?"

"To no avail."

"Then... let's talk about it in detail."

said Harry, and Dumbledore smiled.

"Harry, you are the seventh Horcrux he created by accident.

He made his soul so unstable that it split when he committed those horrible crimes - murdering your parents and trying to kill a child.

But less escaped from that house than he himself knew.

Not only did he leave the child's body behind, but a part of himself was attached to you, the child who lived. "

"Sadly, he's always been half-knowledgeable, Harry! Voldemort never took the trouble to understand what he didn't value.

Of house-elves and fairy tales, of love and loyalty and innocence, Voldemort knew nothing.

Know nothing.

In fact, they all had a power greater than his, a power beyond any magic, but he never grasped this fact. "

"He took your blood, believing it would make him strong.

He ingested a small portion of the charm your mother left behind when she died for you.

His body keeps your mother's talisman of sacrifice alive, and as long as that talisman lasts, you won't die, and neither will Voldemort's last hope for himself. "

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, who just stared blankly at him.

"You already knew? You always-knew?"

"I guess. But my guesses are usually not far off." said Dumbledore cheerfully, and they sat in silence for what seemed to be a long time, the life behind them still whimpering and shaking.

"And," said Harry, "and. Why did my wand beat the one he borrowed?"

"As for that, I'm not sure either."

"Give it a guess, then," said Harry, and Dumbledore laughed loudly.

"What you must understand, Harry, is that you and Voldemort traveled together hitherto unknown and unexplored realms of magic. I think it happened in such a way that it had no precedent, and I don't think any wandmaker foresaw or Explain to Voldemort."

"As you already know, Voldemort inadvertently doubled your bond when he returned to human form. At the time, a part of his soul was still attached to you, and he sacrificed your mother in order to enhance his own power. Part of the talisman was absorbed into his body. If he understood the terrible power of the sacrificial talisman, he might not dare to touch your blood... However, if he could understand this, he couldn't be Voldemort, and won't kill anyone."

"Voldemort strengthened this double bond, entwining your two destinies more tightly than any two wizards in history, and then he struck with a wand with the same core as yours. You. And then, as we all know, something very strange happened. The two cores reacted in a way Voldemort didn't expect, and he had no idea your cores were twins to his."

"He was more frightened than you that night, Harry. You have acknowledged, even embraced, the possibility of death in a way Voldemort could never have done. Your courage won, your wand defeated his. In At the same time, something happened between the two wands, reflecting the relationship between the two masters."

"I believe that your wand absorbed some of the power and quality of Voldemort's wand that night, that is to say, it contained a little of Voldemort himself. So, when he chased you, your wand recognized him and recognized him. Out of this fellow and sworn enemy, it spit back upon Voldemort some of Voldemort's own magic, which was far more powerful than the power of Lucius' wand. Now your wand is as powerful as yours What was Lucius Malfoy's poor stick compared to the extraordinary courage and the deadly power of Voldemort himself?"

"How could Hermione break my wand if it's so powerful?" Harry asked.

"My dear boy, its startling effect was only on Voldemort, for he tampered with the most esoteric rules of magic with the utmost recklessness. It was only when it was aimed at him that the wand was extraordinarily powerful. As good as my own wand... but a good one, I believe," said Dumbledore kindly.

Harry sat there thinking for a long time, or maybe just a few seconds. It's hard to be sure about things like time here.

"He killed me with your wand."

"He didn't kill you with my wand," Dumbledore corrected Harry, "I think we can agree that you're not dead—but of course," he added hastily, as if worried that he was being rude." I did not underestimate your pain, I knew it must be serious."

"But I feel great now," said Harry, looking down at his flawless hands. "Where are we?"

"Hey, I was going to ask you," said Dumbledore, looking around. "Where do you think we are?"

Before Dumbledore asked this question, Harry didn't know it, but at this moment, he found that he had the answer.

"It looks," said Harry slowly, "like King's Cross, but it's much cleaner and empty, and I can't see the trains."

"King's Cross!" laughed Dumbledore. "My God, really?"

"Where do you think we are, then?" said Harry, a little incredulously.

"My dear boy, I don't know. You're the one, as they say."

Harry didn't understand what that meant. Dumbledore was getting annoying. Harry stared at him, only to remember a much more pressing question than where they were.

"Deathly Hallows," he said, pleased to see the smile disappear from Dumbledore's face.

"Ah, yes," he said, even looking a little distressed.

"What's wrong?"

For the first time since Harry met Dumbledore he saw that he was not an old man, very much. At that moment, he was like a little boy who got caught doing something bad.

"Can you forgive me?" he said. "Can you forgive me for not trusting you? Not telling you? Harry, I'm just afraid you'll fail like me. I'm just afraid you'll make the same mistake I did. I I beg your forgiveness, Harry. I have known for some time that you are better than me."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, surprised by Dumbledore's tone, and by the sudden welling of tears in his eyes.

"Hallows, Hallows," murmured Dumbledore, "a hopeless man's dream!"

"But they are real!"

"True, and dangerous, is the bait of fools," said Dumbledore. "I am such a fool. But you already know that, don't you? I have no more secrets to keep from you. You know."

"what do you know?"

Dumbledore turned his whole body to face Harry, tears still glistening in his bright blue eyes.

"Conqueror of death, Harry, master of death! In the end, am I better than Voldemort?"

"Of course," said Harry, "of course—why would you ask that? You never kill if you can avoid it!"

"Yes, yes," said Dumbledore, like a child seeking comfort, "but I have also sought to conquer death, Harry."

"Not like him," said Harry. How strange it was that he had held a grudge against Dumbledore, and now he was sitting here, under the dome, defending him against Dumbledore's remorse. "Holy artifacts, not Horcruxes."

"Hallows," murmured Dumbledore, "not Horcruxes. Exactly."

There was a silence. The life behind them was still whimpering, but Harry didn't look back at it.

"Grindelwald looked for them too?" he asked.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and nodded.

"That's what brought us together in the first place," he said softly, "two bright, arrogant teenagers with the same obsession. Freer's grave just went to Godric's Hollow. He wants to investigate where the third brother died."

"So, it's true?" Harry asked. "All of this? Brother Peverell—?"

"—the three brothers in the story," Dumbledore nodded and said, "yes, I think so. As for whether they encountered death on a remote path... I think it is more likely to be Peffer The Lear brothers were powerful, dangerous wizards who managed to create these incredibly powerful artifacts. It seems to me that the story of the Deathly Hallows seems like some kind of legend that has emerged around these inventions."

"The cloak of invisibility, as you know by now, has been handed down from generation to generation for ages, father to son, mother to daughter, down to the last living descendant of Ignotus, who, like Ignotus, , born in the village of Godric's Hollow."

Dumbledore smiled slightly at Harry.

"I?"

"You. I know you already guessed why I had the Invisibility Cloak in my hand the night your parents died. James showed it to me just a few days ago. No wonder he committed all those infractions at school and couldn't It was discovered! I couldn't believe my eyes, so I proposed to borrow it back for research. At that time, I had already given up the dream of owning all the holy artifacts at the same time, but I couldn't resist, and couldn't help but take a closer look ...This invisibility cloak is different from anything I've seen before, it's very ancient, and perfect in every way...After your father died, I finally had two holy artifacts, all of which belonged to me!"

His tone became extremely painful.

"The Invisibility Cloak won't help them survive, though," said Harry hastily. "Voldemort knows where my parents are, and the Invisibility Cloak won't make them immune to the curse."

"Good," said Dumbledore, "good."

Harry waited, but Dumbledore didn't speak, so Harry reminded him.

"That is to say, when you saw the invisibility cloak, you gave up looking for the holy artifact?"

"Yeah," said Dumbledore feebly, as if forcing himself to meet Harry's gaze, "you know what's going on. You know. You can't despise myself any more than I do."

"I didn't despise you—"

"Then you should despise me," said Dumbledore, taking a deep breath. "You know the secret of my sister's ill health, what those Muggles have done, and what she has become. You know my Poor father paid the price for avenging her and died tragically in Azkaban. You know my mother gave up her life to take care of Ariana."

"I resented it all at the time, Harry."

Dumbledore's account is frank and cold. Now his eyes flicked over Harry's head, looking into the distance.

"I'm talented, I'm good. I want to get away. I want to excel. I want to shine."

"Don't get me wrong," he said, the pain on his face making him look old again, "I love them, I love my parents, I love your siblings, but I'm selfish, Harry, More selfish than you, a very selfless person, can imagine."

"So after my mother died, I was responsible for taking care of a disabled younger sister and a wayward younger brother, and I returned to the village full of resentment and pain. I thought I was stuck, wasting my time! Then, needless to say, he came... ..."

Dumbledore looked Harry in the eyes again.

"Grindelwald. You can't imagine how his ideas fascinated me and inspired me. Muggles were forced to submit, and we wizards were proud. Grindelwald and I are the glorious young leaders of this revolution."

"Oh, I had a little scruples, but I comforted my conscience with empty words. It was all for the greater good, and any harm done would do a hundredfold good to the wizarding world. Deep in my heart Does anyone know what Gellert Grindelwald is? I think I do, but I'm turning a blind eye. As long as our plans come true, all my dreams will come true."

"And at the heart of our plan, the Deathly Hallows! How obsessed he is, how obsessed we both are! A wand that never loses, a weapon that will give us power! The Resurrection Stone—meaning to him Inferi army, but I pretend not to know! To me, I admit, it means bringing my parents back from the dead and relieving me of all responsibilities."

"And the Invisibility Cloak... Somehow, we never talked much about the Invisibility Cloak, Harry. We both hid ourselves pretty well without it. Of course, the real magic of the Invisibility Cloak is that it does more than just protect and conceal." Master, it can also be used to protect and conceal others. At the time, I thought, if we can find it, maybe we can use it to hide Ariana, but we are only interested in the invisibility cloak because it is one of the three elements. According to legend, at the same time The man who has three things is the true conqueror of death, which we understand to mean 'invincible'."

"The invincible conquerors of death, Grindelwald and Dumbledore! Two months of ecstasy, full of cruel dreams, neglecting the only two people in the family who need my care."

"Then...you know what happened. Reality came in the form of my rough, uneducated, but much better brother. I don't want to hear the truths he yelled at me. I don't want to hear I was held back by a weak, unstable sister, unable to seek the Hallows."

"The argument escalated into a duel. Grindelwald lost control. Something about him—something I've always felt, but always pretended not to notice—exploded horribly at this moment. Arianna  … …after such loving care and care from my mother … fell to the ground and died.”

Dumbledore took a deep breath and began to cry emotionally.

Harry held out his hand, and fortunately, he found that he could touch the other person. He gripped Dumbledore's arm tightly, and the old man slowly regained control.

"Then Grindelwald ran away, which no one but me could have expected.

He disappeared with his plans for power, his plot to torture Muggles, and his dreams of finding the Deathly Hallows, dreams in which I had encouraged and helped him.

He escaped, and I stayed to bury my sister, learning to live my life with guilt and utter grief, the price of my shame. "

"Many years passed. I heard some rumors about him. It was said that he had acquired a wand of great power. At that time, the position of Minister for Magic was offered to me, not once, but many times. Of course I Refused. I already know that power cannot be given to me."

"But you're better than Fudge and Scrimgeour, much better!" cried Harry.

"Really?" said Dumbledore heavily. "I'm not so sure. Power is my weakness, my temptation, as I have shown in my youth. Strange to say, Harry, perhaps the most suitable The ones who hold power are those who never play tricks, like you, who are forced into the role of leader, put on the jersey when the situation forces them to, only to be surprised at how well they dress."

"And I'm safer at Hogwarts, I think I'm a good teacher—"

"You are the best--"

"—you're kind, Harry. Grindelwald raised an army while I was busy raising young wizards. People say he's afraid of me, maybe, but I think I'm more afraid of him."

"Oh, it's not that I'm afraid of death," Dumbledore replied to Harry's questioning gaze, "not that he might harm me with magic. I know we're evenly matched, and maybe I'm a little better. What I'm afraid of is the truth. Do you understand? , I never knew who actually cast the spell that killed my sister during that horrible melee. You'd probably say I was a coward, and you'd be right. Harry, my deepest fear is Knowing that I caused her death, not only through my arrogance and stupidity, but because I delivered that fatal blow to her."

"I think he knows, I think he knows what I'm afraid of. I put off seeing him until the end, and it would be a shame not to show up. People are dying, he seems unstoppable, and I have to do my part."

"Well, you know what happened afterwards. I won the duel. I won the wand."

Again there was silence. Harry didn't ask Dumbledore if he knew who shot Ariana. He didn't want to know, and he didn't want Dumbledore to have to tell him. He finally knew what Dumbledore would see when facing the Mirror of Erised, and why Dumbledore understood the attraction of the mirror to Harry in that way.

They sat in silence for a long time, the whimpering of the being behind them hardly distracting Harry anymore.

Finally, Harry said: "Grindelwald tried to stop Voldemort from going after that wand. He lied, you know, that he never got it."

Dumbledore nodded, looking down into his lap, tears still glistening on his crooked nose.

"I have heard that he expressed remorse when he was locked up alone in Nurmengard's cell in his later years. I hope this is true. I hope he can feel how horrible and shameful what he has done. Perhaps, he was very angry with Voldemort. To lie is to make amends... to prevent Voldemort from obtaining the Hallows..."

"...Or keep him from breaking into your grave?" Harry interjected, and Dumbledore wiped his eyes.

There was another brief silence, and then Harry said, "Have you tried using the Resurrection Stone?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"After so many years, I finally found it buried in the Gaunt's desolate house - it was the holy relic I wanted most, but I wanted it for other reasons when I was young - I was lost, Harry ...I forgot that it was already a Horcrux, and that the ring must have a charm on it. I picked it up, put it on my hand, and for a moment, I thought I was going to see Ariana , my mother, my father, tell them how much regret I have in my heart..."

"What a fool of me, Harry. After all these years, I haven't grown any better. It has been proven many times that I don't deserve to have all the Hallows at once, and this is the last."

"Why?" said Harry. "That's only natural! What's wrong with you wanting to see them again?"

"Perhaps one person in a million could have all the Hallows at once, Harry. I'm only fit to own the most insignificant and least distinctive of them all. I'm only fit to own the Elder Wand and not boast of it or kill with it. I It can be tamed and used, because I don't take it to take but to save others."

"As for the Invisibility Cloak, I took it out of useless curiosity, so it can't work for me like it does for you. You are its true owner. For that stone, I want to drag those sleepers back forcibly , instead of helping yourself to achieve self-sacrifice like you did. You are truly qualified to own the holy artifact."

Dumbledore patted Harry's hand, and Harry looked up at the old man, a smile on his face. He couldn't help it. How could he be angry with Dumbledore now?

"Why are you making things so complicated?"

Dumbledore's smile trembled.

"I'm afraid I'm trying to use Miss Granger to hold you back, Harry. I'm afraid your hot head will overwhelm your good heart. You're much like me, grabbing the Hallows at the wrong time and for the wrong reason. In your When you get them, I want you to have them safely. You are the true conqueror of death, for the true conqueror never tries to escape death. He embraces mortality and knows that in the world of the living There are far worse things than death."

"Did Voldemort never know about the Hallows?"

"I think so, because he didn't recognize the Resurrection Stone and turned it into a Horcrux. But even if he knew them, Harry, he probably wouldn't be interested in any but the first. He Will think he doesn't need the Invisibility Cloak, and as for the Resurrection Stone, which dead is he trying to call back? He's afraid of the dead. He doesn't know love."

"Then you expected him to seek the wand?"

"Ever since your wand defeated Voldemort in Little Hangleton's graveyard, I believed he would. At first, he feared that you had conquered him with great skill. Then he kidnapped Ollivander, Discovered the existence of twin wand cores. He thought that explained everything. However, the borrowed wand is still no match for you! Voldemort did not ask himself what qualities in you make your wand so powerful, you have What talent he didn't have, but he took it for granted to find the wand, the legendary wand that defeated the invincible hand. He is haunted by the Elder Wand, just like he is haunted by you. He believes that the Elder Wand will eliminate his last his weakness, making him truly invincible. Poor Severus..."

"Since you arranged for Snape to kill you, you intended him to have the Elder Wand, didn't you?"

"I admit that I had that intention," said Dumbledore, "but it didn't work out, did it?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "it didn't materialize at this point."

The life behind them twitched and groaned, and Harry and Dumbledore sat in silence for a long time, longer than the previous silences. Finally, like snowflakes wafting gently, Harry slowly realized what was going to happen next.

"I have to go back, don't I?"

"It's up to you."

"I can choose?"

"Yes," Dumbledore looked at him with a smile, "you said we were at King's Cross, didn't you? I suppose if you decided not to go back, you could... say... board a train."

"Where will it take me?"

"Go on," said Dumbledore simply.

Again there was silence.

"Voldemort got the Elder Wand."

"Yes. Voldemort holds the Elder Wand."

"But you want me to go back?"

"I suppose," said Dumbledore, "that if you choose to go back, there's a chance that he's finished forever. I can't guarantee that. But I know, Harry, that you're less afraid of going back here than he is."

Harry took another look at the trembling, sobbing red thing in the shadows under the far chair.

"Have no mercy on the dead, Harry. Have mercy on the living, and most of all, those who have lived without love. You will ensure that fewer souls are murdered and fewer families are torn apart by going back. If you think this is a very A worthy goal, let's say goodbye for now."

Harry nodded, sighing. Leaving this place won't be as hard as stepping into the Forbidden Forest, but it's warm and quiet and bright, and he knows he's going back to face the pain, the fear of losing even more loved ones. He stood up, and Dumbledore stood up too, and they stared at each other for a long time.

"Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or is it happening in my head?"

Dumbledore looked at him with a slight smile. Although the bright mist fell again, making his figure blurred, his voice reached Harry's ears so loudly and powerfully.

"Of course it's happening in your head, Harry, but why does that mean it's not real?"

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