The Heart Is Not Black or White

Chapter 29

Draco and I had been milling about in Dumbledore's office for a solid hour. I was sitting in the chair in front of his desk, tapping my foot and humming a song my grandfather had taught me. Draco was pacing back and forth, as if waiting was causing him a huge inconvenience.

It was two-o-clock in the morning when we had apparated here with Dumbledore. For a few minutes I had just stood there, mouth wide open in shock. Neither I nor Draco had a clue about what had just happened to us. All Dumbledore said was that he would come back later to explain. That didn't cut it for me. I wanted answers now.

Around three-o-clock, Draco said, for possibly the millionth time, "I think I'm just going to leave. It's ridiculous, waiting for that old man. And what school keeps a large, three-headed dog? My father-"

"-will hear about this," I finished, tired of his endless complaining. "If you want to leave, go ahead. Nothing's keeping you here."

"I will then," he stated. This time he actually did leave. I pretended not to care when he marched out the door. Pretended not to be scared of the fact that I was alone. I hated the feeling of loneliness.

For a few minutes I inspected Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet phoenix. He stared right back at me with his beady black eyes. I don't think he liked me that much. However, he was a beautiful creature. Fawkes started skwaking at me when Dumbledore walked in, as if to warn him that I was a trouble maker.

"Hello, Marissa," he said, making his way over to his desk. "Where did Mr. Malfoy go?"

"He left," I answered. "He was tired of waiting for answers. I admit, I have also grown tired of waiting for answers myself."

"Ah." He sat down at his desk. "Sometimes it is better to seek the truth yourself than to seek it from others."

The statement bothered me. "Professor, there have been a couple times where 'seeking the truth myself' has almost led to my death."

"Well then, the sacrifice must have been worth it."

"No."

Dumbledore just blinked at me, as if he was unsure of what to do next.

"I think I have a couple questions to ask you, and you have answers to give me," I reminded him, staring at him right in the eyeballs, daring him to do otherwise. I was not usually defiant to adults, but Professor Dumbledore was frustrating me.

"Ah yes. I believe Professor Quirrell said something about the Sorceror's Stone?" I nodded. "I'm afraid I cannot give you too much information about it, but I will say this: Voldemort wants it in his possession so that he can live forever."

"I thought that Voldemort was dead," I said. "He was defeated by Harry Potter."

"Defeated, but not completely dead." The thought that Voldemort was still out there somewhere gave me the chills. "In fact, his soul was living inside Professor Quirrell until he could find another body. Harry has just defeated him a second time."

I didn't care about that any more. There were too many other questions about to burst out of my mouth. "Why did Quirrell have the Manus Force? I thought only one living person could have it."

"He doesn't," Dumbledore answered. "And you are correct that only one living person can have it. The reason why Quirrell could use it was because Voldemort was living inside him, and Voldemort is not exactly living."

"So Voldemort had it before he was defeated, and then it went to me," I guessed.

"Correct."

"Why me?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore sighed. "Just like the wand chooses the wizard, the Manus Force chooses too."

"What happens if he comes back to power?" I asked.

"Either one of you will be stripped of your power and the other will obtain it all," he said gravely. "Or you will share it. I'm afraid I have said too much."

"But Professor!" I exclaimed, standing up and slapping my palms on the desk in front of me. "You can't withhold information from me like this."

The smile was wiped from his face. Trying to stay calm he said, "I can if I believe it is best for the good of the future."

"What about me?" I cried. "I've almost died twice this past school year. And somehow, I think you knew that it would happen. You can't let things like that just happen!"

"Yes I can," he answered simply, making my face get hot from anger. "You see, all these events are leading up to many other things. If this exact sequence of events did not happen, the outcome would not be the same. Ms. L'amare, have you ever heard of the Butterfly Effect?"

"Well what is the outcome?" I demanded. "And I don't care about the Butterfly Effect."

"You will discover the outcome when the universe wants you to. Let fate run its course."

Everything coming out of this man's mouth was appalling me. How did he expect me to stand back while horrible things were happening and say it was all part of a plan?

It reminded me of something that my grandfather taught me. Whenever there was a tragedy or death, my grandfather would say that it was all part of God's Plan. I didn't think I believed that anymore.

"Professor," I said bitterly. "You said that Harry Potter just fought off Quirrell and V-Voldemort. You knew that was going to happen. Yet you just let Harry fend for himself. Was this all part of this, this 'master plan'?"

"Yes," he nodded.

When he said that one, simple word, it was at that moment in my life when I knew I hated this man.

How could Dumbledore be so oblivious? People were getting hurt. Tears formed in my eyes from frustration and confusion.

"I suggest you don't try to pry the answers from me, Marissa," he said, getting a dangerous glint in his eyes. "To question me is to question fate."

I slowly sat back down in my chair, tired of pulling his leg. It seemed that Dumbledore would not give anything else away.

"I just have three more questions. I would say that they're simple enough to answer," I said. "Well, two of them."

"Ask away."

"Why is there a giant three-headed dog in the third floor corridor?"

"It was placed there to protect the Sorceror's Stone," he explained. Fair enough.

"Could you possibly tell me who Assyria is?" I asked.

"She was a girl who went to school with Voldemort when he attended Hogwarts," he said. The headmaster walked over to the window and stared out at the black lake, twinkling in the darkness. "Back then he still went by his birth name, Tom Riddle. Since Assyria was born in 1927, she would have been sixty-five today. Of course you do not look sixty-five years old, so he thought you were using the Sorceror's Stone to elongate your life. Thus, why he was asking you for it."

"But why would he think that I am Assyria?"

"Because you look exactly like her," Dumbledore stated. "Except for your eyes. You have bright, green vibrant ones, while Assyria had cold, grey eyes. I'm surprised that Tom could not notice the difference."

Confusion and shock hit me like a brick. I wanted to know more about this Assyria girl. I opened my mouth to ask more questions when Dumbledore held up his hand. "Marissa. Seek the truth yourself."

He was going to be stubborn. I would not find out anything else about Assyria from him. But I had one more question.

"In the chamber," I started. "There was a mirror. When I looked into it, I was running. Draco looked into it too and saw the same thing."

"It is called the mirror of Erised. It shows us what we truly desire at the moment that we look into it. Were there any specific emotions you felt when you saw this in the mirror?"

I thought about it. I decided. "Freedom."

"Then you most wanted to be free."