A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned

97. Expelliarmus

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.

Next chapter, yay!

I do apologise for my obsession with terrible puns as chapter titles, well, I'm not really sorry, but I feel I should apologise for them nonetheless...

Chapter 97

The first rays of light crept over the edge of the horizon, spilling across the shores of the Black Lake, casting long shadows from the the towers and turrets of the school, and bathing the face of Albus Dumbledore in a soft, orange hue.

The old wizard's face looked almost peaceful now Harry had closed his eyes, but, despite the illusion of repose, the thin, blackened, dead veins that traced their way under pale, paper-thin skin marred the image.

Harry gently placed the broken, half-moon spectacles on the desk next to Dumbledore beside the stack of empty vials he knew must have once contained the potion Snape had brewed to arrest the affects of the curse.

There would be no mystery about his death; it would, Harry smiled wryly, be the least secretive thing the man had managed.

There was a flash of red flame, and a soft, happy trill as Fawkes reappeared on the edge of desk, and, when Dumbledore did not move, the phoenix triumphantly stole his spectacles and swooped over to his perch with his prize.

'He won't be able to play that game anymore, Fawkes,' Harry said sadly.

The phoenix was the only thing in the room capable of hearing him, the portraits were confunded, thought they were almost all asleep anyway, and the wards around the office were nothing for the one who owned the concealing hallow.

Fawkes trilled once more, this time Harry could hear the alarm in the phoenix's song, and dropped the spectacles back onto the desk, nudging them with one taloned foot, and then its beak towards Dumbledore's hand.

When his partner did not reclaim his glasses the phoenix became distressed, hopping across to blink thick, heavy tears onto Dumbledore's hands, but the tears that had once saved Harry had no affect.

Fawkes, seemingly realising that his partner was truly dead, let out a cry of despair, and a wave of hot, angry magic that swirled about the room, rustling papers and rattling the doors to the cabinets.

Then the phoenix turned its eyes on him.

'Sorry,' Harry apologised quietly.

Fawkes hissed at him, scoring lines into the desktop with his talons, and trilled a song filled with so much scathing, angry disappointment that Harry almost wished the office would floor would open and swallow him.

A final flare of red flame and the familiar was gone.

'I am sorry,' Harry repeated, seating himself opposite the dead headmaster. He could hardly disagree with Fawkes. The phoenix had shown no hostility towards him until now, despite the acts he had previously committed.

I have crossed a line.

Killing the headmaster made things easier for him. Harry knew that, had known that from the moment he had removed the horcrux, but it was no longer justified, for Dumbledore, unlike any of the others he had hurt, had done nothing, and would never have done anything to deserve his fate.

Harry helped himself to a sherbet lemon, slowly unwrapping the sweet, and sucking on it several times before he placed one on the desk in front of Dumbledore.

The light had crept a lot further since he had last noticed, and Harry imagined the castle would be stirring soon; it looked about as bright as it was when he normally awoke at this time of year.