A Story of Mortality

Chapter 4

Warning: violent scene

A pale, flickering glow was the only light in the circular office. Piles of paper threatened to topple off the desk, but a charm kept them in place. Sat before the desk was a man with a long beard, which was starting to grey, his body expressing the stress of age with its mix of grey and auburn hairs. To his right was a fiery bird, looking sympathetically down at the aging man.

"Whatever am I to do, Fawkes?" asked Dumbledore in a low voice, seeming sincerely concerned.

He received a low chirp in response from the bird.

"News is going around of Tom Riddle's return to Britain. I was half expecting him to return to ask for a job here, but... it seems that I do not know him quite as well as I thought. Politics must be a greater concern to him, now."

Fawkes responded with another chirp, which sounded rather like an agreement.

"We cannot have two Dark Lords in Britain. The dark cannot regain the power that they once had. They are already out slaughtering muggles mercilessly, probably even more than the papers know of... They must continue to be repressed, Fawkes. Lord Potter was one thing; he's certainly a threat, with his smart words and persuasive style. But two? I don't know if I can handle two, Fawkes."

Dumbledore sounded exhausted, and this time Fawkes just looked downwards, morosely. Like the bird felt his same sense of hopelessness.

"I have to get to them early. Nip the movement at the bud. Tom is harming people; the wizarding population won't stand for that. Once they know what he's doing, what the dark is about... There is hope, Fawkes. There is hope for the light."

The bird only nodded.

"This poor, greying beard will have further struggles to live through yet," he commented, and then went to blow out his candle.

"Merlin's beard have I fucked up, I've fucked up so badly," Harry groaned as he dropped his head onto the tome in front of him.

Lin, his ex-tutor, said nothing in response, merely continuing his own research. Harry had wanted to enlist the help of all his followers for this task, but he knew that Voldemort would be maddened if he found out that Harry had told even his most trusted advisor. A horcrux was an incredibly personal issue, and it was not information that one threw about freely. Harry trusted all of his followers, but he still didn't think it was a good idea for them all to know, lest it spread further, and Harry was responsible for the untimely death of the man. Instead, he had reserved this information for Lin. He went to Lin for everything; he was like the father Harry had never had, and, while he was admittedly getting on a bit, he was still the most knowledgeable in the dark arts that Harry knew of.

"I shouldn't have done it like that, I should have been gentler in my approach. Why do I always do this? Why do I always run into these things headfirst? Merlin and the founders damn me, he's going to make another, I've made it worse, Lin, I've fucked up so badly!"

"Harry, my friend, please try to calm down," the old man soothed. "You will not be successful in your research if you are teetering on the cliff of a panic attack. Just breathe, and work slowly."

Harry followed these instructions, and let his breathing patterns fall even. He had been frantically searching through some of the darkest books that he had in his possession, books that he had travelled to the ends of the Earth to acquire, and Lin had been right; he could barely remember a word of what he'd found so far. Said man was working at a steady pace, taking in any relevant information, and noting it down, overall working much more efficiently than Harry had been.

"Why are you so desperate to save this boy, anyway? What's it to you if he splits his soul? You barely know him."

Harry felt his body tense, but he could not get angry at his ex-tutor.