Written In The Stars VI -[Harry Potter xF!Oc]

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Dumbledore Woman.

"Don't look at me like that," Erick scowled at her. "I don't know what you're thinking, but it can't be good."

Mel had been thinking of when she'd cracked her skull and she'd woken up to Erick sitting beside her, looking as worried and angry as he was now. 

This was her last day in the hospital wing, her cuts had been sealed shut and she would be able to speak in no time, but she'd have to be careful about it. Many people had come to visit her, lots of students considered her a hero. Whenever Dumbledore's name was brought up her friends would throw anxious looks, waiting to see her burst into tears.

The truth was that her emotions towards the man were complicated, she cared for him, but she was more terrified than sad, she didn't allow herself to think much about it because she just knew his absence would make everything ten times harder. 

Harry told her the unfortunate result of their journey: The locket he'd retrieved from the cave was a fake one, someone with the initials 'R.A.B' had stolen the real thing. Dumbledore wasn't the only one who'd discovered Voldemort's secret.

They hadn't talked about this with anyone else, but Harry asked her if she would help him look for the other Horcruxes. Mel agreed at once, with Harry her silence wasn't a problem. It was a nice change from having to point and write to the rest of her friends so they could understand her.

The scars on her body were still visible, she had one (the one that had silenced her) starting on the side of her jaw that went all the way down to her clavicle,  two across her right arm, and a large one on her thigh. She had a few under her chest and across her stomach, but those were fading, so maybe they wouldn't be there at all by the end of July.

Erick escorted her to the Gryffindor tower where she found her things already packed, Hermione said Lavender had done that the day prior. When she entered the Great Hall most of the students stood up and applauded, her stomach revolted with shame but she kept walking forward, the empty seat at the head of the teacher's table seemed to be judging her. Now she had a legacy to carry, tomorrow she'd be seventeen, she would become the Dumbledore many people would try to murder.

"It is nearly time," McGonagall said after a few minutes, Mel hadn't managed to eat at all. "Please follow your Heads of Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me." 

It felt like every member of the wizarding community was there to say goodbye to her uncle. Even Grawp was allowed in the ceremony. It was her first time seeing him, but Mel was too absent-minded to be amazed. She was guided to the front by McGonagall and seated between her mother and a tall man, her gaze fixed on the marble table in front of them.

Merpeople were there too, she could hear them singing, centaurs were at the edge of the forest, the whole world had gathered to witness the funeral of the greatest wizard to ever live in their time. Hagrid was walking towards them with Dumbledore's body carefully wrapped in velvet fabric. One look around the place told her she was never going to cause the effect that man had over their world. She was too soft, too timid.

He wanted her to be better than him, but there was no such thing. Above Dumbledore, there was nothing, no one. A man stood up to give his farewell speech, he said many grand, beautiful things about her uncle, but all she could think of were his piercing blue eyes, the way he had looked at her, how he wanted to keep her from making his mistakes.

Who was he? Not the Headmaster, not the man who had tutored her. Who was Albus Dumbledore? A man who lost a sister, lost his parents when he was young... Who'd never been loved the way he'd loved that young, clever man he met when he was seventeen...

"You are wholly loved, Mel. It gives you the power to love back twice as much, don't give that up for anyone, or anything."

Then it came to her: Dumbledore wasn't comparing her to the version everyone knew of him, but the opinion he had of himself.