CHAPTER 112: NEGOTIATIONS, AFTERMATHS



In the hour that followed, the Muggle government representatives and Harry, Hermione and Emmeline put their heads together to iron out the details for the first proposals to put to parliament.

At six, Pius Thicknesse returned from St. Mungo's, accompanied by two members of the Wizengamot whom he identified as progressive thinkers with a solid understanding of the economic and cultural foundations of their world. As Pius explained, little though they liked the situation of the surrender, they understood that it was improbable that they could block it – a 90% majority against Potter's treaty was unlikely, even not counting the Queen's formal and real power over magic users – and therefore they were grudgingly willing to go along with the situation, provided they could mitigate the damage somewhat. Professor Dumbledore, physically and magically exhausted, did not return, nor did Draco.

With the six of them and the nine Muggles, the first beginnings of a treaty were crafted, based on the wishes of both sides. The Muggles made no promises but simply wrote up the ideas which were agreed upon to bring back to their superiors, who would have to formally approve the draft. The core of the treaty allowed both sides limiting control on magic. On the one hand, a Muggle group – most likely a new non-magical side to the Ministry of Magic, elected by the general public – would be able to dictate which magics could be used under which circumstances, using the tracing system for enforcement. On the other hand, the Wizengamot would have the same control, which most importantly implied that they would have to approve any magic given to Muggles. The few elected positions in the magical side of the Ministry could only be voted for by magic users.

The wizards were assured that clearing the common spells they had described would mostly be a formality, as would full functioning of St. Mungo's and other essential features of the wizarding world. Despite weak protestations of one of the Wizengamot members, they agreed with Harry that memory charms should not be permitted without explicit permission of the target, and even then only in very specific circumstances, to be cleared by a committee on an individual basis. Love potions and other questionable items sold for "fun" were also not going to be allowed in the near future, but there was a good chance for the approval of potentially dangerous spells within the boundaries of a magical household.

The Muggles were very interested in all the possibilities magic offered, and suggested suitable areas of land that could be assigned to use as resorts for magical creatures or to grow magical plants, which could help to counteract scarcity issues for several potions. The idea of magical research in radio-activity – a necessity to reuse the Hogwarts grounds – was met with great enthusiasm, not just because of how much safer it would make nuclear power plants, but also because of the potential, since Thicknesse suggested in perfect seriousness that magic might be able to use all that energy. The Muggle representatives agreed – in some cases quite reluctantly – not to make any decisions on healing charms, potions and transportation before discussing the matter with a variety of interest groups.

Dinner was brought by Thicknesse's House Elf, which caused a small riot where Harry had to frantically explain that the Elves honestly liked their slavery and the Muggles insisted (with Hermione's backing) that ethicists would have an input on their future treatment, and that a statement of House Elf rights should be drafted. This led to discussions on other magical creatures, and the decision to send a delegation of Muggles to goblin representatives and include them in the rest of the negotiations. The status of centaurs and mermen was discussed at length. Other questions came up as well, of international relations, political structures and currency, until Harry was dead tired, bored to the bone, and silently vowed never to go anywhere near politics again.

At long last, the negotiations were over.

When the Queen had observed that the children looked like it was well past their bedtime, the discussions had been wrapped up for the day. Hermione had taken Harry back to Grimmauld Place, where Snape had arranged a separate room for the two of them and woken up Dumbledore to allow two trusted Auror trios into the wards to stand guard outside their door. The old wizard had also silently passed Harry a mahogany wand; his father's, apparently. It worked, somewhat – better than Lupin's wand, certainly – but Harry knew he'd have to visit Ollivander's soon if he was going to get into any situation where he really needed his magic.

So now, he lay on his bed, listening to Hermione's soft breathing from the other side of the room. The day had been tiring, but he couldn't yet sleep, so he just stared at the dark ceiling above.

And he remembered the stars.

Perfect points of light against total blackness. The feeling of being bodiless, alone in the night sky, far away from all the darkness and cruelty of earth. The enormousness and the beauty of the image.

It was the most personal thing he and the Defense Professor had shared.

The man he had known as the Defense Professor was, almost certainly, dead. Gone. Ceased to be. They would never watch the stars together again. In fact, Harry might have lost the chance to ever relive the experience at all, even alone or with others, for all of Slytherin's lost magic had been destroyed along with the man.

Harry felt lonely.

Despite everything, there had been a bond between them. The man who had stood beside him underneath the stars – somehow, Harry felt sure that that was the real Tom Riddle, not a face he put up. His first mentor, the only person in the entire world whom Harry could truly look up to. A murderer, who had so truly lost faith in humanity that he would happily choose the certainty of killing millions of people over the uncertain prospect of total annihilation by Muggle hands. A friend, who had made him stronger and understood him on a level no one else ever had, or might ever do again.

Gone now. Harry had killed him. Not by his own hands, perhaps, but by intent and choice all the same.

Was it definite?

Harry had promised himself that he would learn to undo death. Had sworn it over and over only a week and a half ago, on the day that would go down in history as Dark Monday. Had ignored all his other feelings and just forced himself to believe it as well as he could. He had continued the insistence after the Battle of Hogwarts, and done all in his power to make the step of resurrection easier, at least for those near and dear people who died by his side. But now, the belief that it could be done did not come so easily anymore.

The notion of death was not as simple as it had seemed before. The strange sense in the air when Mum had died... it had happened after her heart stopped, but before her brain would have died. And then there was the whole "spirit" thing. Tom Riddle had apparently managed to survive the death of his body somehow, and continued to possess a body which surely would have had a different brain. So what, then, was life?

Harry had managed to make predictions about the way spirits, possession and Dementors behaved by pattern-matching on the notion of a soul, and the outcomes seemed to match reality. Could it be that he'd been wrong all along? Was it possible that there actually was a soul, which lived on in some other world after death?

We have no strong evidence one way or another, the voice of Ravenclaw pointed out. Perhaps we should reevaluate our beliefs. It seems that it's possible to keep thinking without a brain, as demonstrated by the existence of both spirits and Animagi – at least for people with magic. This means that our model of the universe, where the brain is what a person is, is inconsistent with reality. Taking that into account, why couldn't there be something magical in sentient life that might as well be called a soul?

Wouldn't it be wonderful? Hufflepuff sighed. We already know from potions that magic has a sort of fairness which isn't present in the Muggle part of science. Maybe the true universe is not is as harsh as it seems to be. Maybe souls live on in some kind of meaningful afterlife, maybe nobody ever really died.

And I suppose you've forgotten, Slytherin coldly said, just how many people have died to Dementors?

There was no response from Hufflepuff, only a terrible feeling of sadness.

All we know, Ravenclaw pointed out, is that we don't really know anything. Reality probably isn't like we imagined it to be. That doesn't mean it has to be worse. What do we know?

He knew that Dementors supposedly destroyed souls – and yet, if Dementors were just a magical representation of death in the world, could they be worse than the real thing? He knew that people – even Muggles, or at least Squibs – caused some kind of feeling of release in the air when they died, which might be magic, life, the soul or perhaps even something different altogether. He knew that wizards, who surely must know about this feeling, did not universally take the existence of a soul for granted.

How could a soul preserve what a person was when a stick through the brain could completely change your personality? But then, if there was a soul, it didn't necessarily follow that it contained all that a person was. Perhaps it was just some kind of cosmic spark, something that gave you sentience and disappeared again when you died. It might not need to contain your personality and memories at all; those would be stored in your body – or your magic, in the case of spirits and Animagi.

Does it even make sense, he wondered, to assume a soul that departs on death, if people have been revived long after their heart stopped beating?

How long afterwards? Ravenclaw asked. More than six hours?

... okay, so perhaps that did make sense. Perhaps a soul, cosmic energy or what departed when your body died and the universe knew it wouldn't be fixed soon enough. And if that was the case, then even if he could find a way to break the laws of time and go back down history and backup every sentient creature that ever lived, it wouldn't be enough. Without their "soul", was there any chance of reviving people as the same person they had been?

We don't know, Ravenclaw repeated. There is only one way to find out the answers to such questions. We should exp-

Internally, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor recoiled in horror.

-ertly do a literature study, Ravenclaw finished meekly. Perhaps we should involve Dumbledore. He may be biased on this issue, but if we ask the right questions, he will be able to point to the right places for answers. Or even better, could we get Nicolas Flamel? Dumbledore did say he wanted to teach us, and since he was able to cast the True Patronus Charm, he probably does not suffer from Dumbledore's biases.

I will also register, Gryffindor piped up, that there is no reason to despair of our success. The first plan might not work for any number of reasons, but we can make others. The possible existence of souls could turn out to be a very good thing. We don't have all the answers yet, but some day, we will. For now, the important thing is to keep more people from dying. Once we get there, we shall learn how to undo it for others. If there is any way to fix reality, we will.

And, Hufflepuff added quietly, perhaps even if there are souls and Dementors eat them, our destruction of all Dementors might have undone that effect. Even for those people who died last week, and in all the previous battles involving Dementors, there is hope. Even Quirrell might yet live. Especially since at least one part of his soul is still safe.

Harry slowly stood up from the bed, and looked ahead. The voice of Professor Quirrell echoed in his head.

Sometimes, when this world seems unusually hateful, I wonder whether there might be some other place where I should have been. But the stars are so very, very far away, and I wonder what I would dream about, if I slept for a long, long time.

"Sleep well, Professor," he whispered. "I will be there when you wake up."

He held on to these thoughts, taking the mahogany wand in his hand.

"Expecto Patronum."

The light came slowly, this time. But it came.

The manor was the image of grandeur. Built to accommodate the entire extended Malfoy family in better times, it had been largely unused already during Abraxas's life. Now, with nothing left of the once-great family but an orphan boy and a single House Elf, the place just felt daunting and very, very empty.

The one remaining scion of Malfoy sat alone in the large, empty kitchen, holding a cup of pumpkin juice but not drinking. It was late in the evening and perhaps he should go to bed, but he'd slept and cried for a good part of the day, and he wasn't in the mood. There were things to organize – many of them! – but he couldn't bear the thought of doing anything at all. Earlier today he'd managed to find hope, somehow, but now, the world just felt as empty as the house.

"Master, sir?"

"What?" He snapped at the House Elf who had quietly shuffled in.

"Professor Snape is wanting to talk to you, master."

Draco wanted to tell him to get lost, but what would be the point? He wasn't really doing anything anyway. So he sighed, pushed himself up and stepped into the visiting room.

Snape's head lay in the fireplace, looking him over calmly. "May I come in?"

"Sure," Draco shrugged. Within seconds, the Potions Master stepped into the room.

"They told me you left St. Mungo's on your own, unsupervised."

"There was nothing wrong with me," Draco shrugged.

Snape just gave him a look. "Be that as it may, you are too young to live on your own."

"Who else have I got?" He snapped. The only close relative who was alive and not in Azkaban was aunt Andromeda, and she'd been kicked out of the Black family for being a Blood Traitor.

"I admit that, with everything that happened, it took us a long time to realize your situation, but by law and custom, you are a ward of the school."

"What school?"

"Conveniently, the law does not specify that a building needs to exist."

Horror dawned on Draco. "I don't want to be in Dumbledore's power!"

"The Headmaster understands that. He said he's willing to pass your custody to me, or to any other responsible adult you wish to name. I propose that you join me and your fellow students in the Black House, and somewhere during the weekend we will arrange your finances and other matters together."

Draco looked up at the Potions Master, who seemed unusually sincere. Responsible adult? He could almost believe it, the way the man acted now. And going along did sound marginally better than sticking in the empty manor with only Dobby for company. It wasn't much, but some of the hollow feeling in his chest left him.

"Come on, Draco, let's go. You don't have to deal with this alone."

On Saturday afternoon, there really wasn't much left to do but cleaning, reading, and talking politics. In Windsor Castle, officials from both worlds were still discussing a variety of formal aspects of the treaty, but in that, there was little need for children, no matter how precocious. Hermione and Harry had attended the formal lunch, but Dumbledore had suggested that they might wish to fill their leisure time more productively than being bored out of their skulls with endless discussions on politics and economy. Even the Queen wasn't sticking around; having finalized the initial relations, it was time for the lawyers to take over. And that meant that Hermione really didn't have much of an excuse to continue putting off the visit she had – if she were entirely honest with herself – been putting off for most of the last week.

With a burst of flame, she appeared in her bedroom. She gently placed Xare on the bed – the fire bird would be by her side with a thought, but she didn't want to draw attention to her familiar now – and went out into the hall.

There were voices downstairs. Hermione tiptoed down the stairs and peeked into the living room. Both her parents were there, glued to the television, which showed the negotiations that were still being transmitted live. There didn't seem to be anyone else around.

She stepped inside. "Hey mum. Hey dad. I'm home."

"Well, Lord Potter," Albus Dumbledore spoke formally. "The Muggle government have agreed to the creation of 'magic-zones' like you suggested, where the specific spells on this list –" he held up three A4s, "– are permitted without alarm. They say that in the future the list could be expanded or turned into an 'all except' list, provided we take care that Muggles are not allowed on those premises without their explicit consent, and a paper trail exists that would allow the government to trace disappearances. In addition, I have taken the liberty to suggest amendments for Squib children, and sufficiently protected research labs. We have agreed on fixed cost and taxation of healing potions and services, and those services are currently restricted to injuries where Muggle treatment cannot provide a complete cure. There has been significant debate as to which new treatments the NHS should cover, but we have generally agreed that this is not a direct concern for the service providers; this is something the Muggles can debate without our input. The Muggle governments have designated large areas of land for magical purposes –" he held up another paper "– with an open application to interested undertakers who wish to rent and use the land. The goblins have agreed to send a team of representatives to join tomorrow's negotiations. If you could study and approve these agreements –" many papers were shoved in his direction "– that would be wonderful. You have my word that there is no trick or small print, and that I believe that this contract corresponds to the ideas you posed yesterday."

Harry nodded. He'd mostly been kept out of the discussions today, which he had accepted because a short session demonstrated just how little he had to add. Moreover, Dumbledore had strongly urged him not to show his face in the Wizengamot for the time being, as "the inevitable recriminations would only serve to stall any semblance of progress". Nevertheless, the votes to immediately halt negotiations had failed, and Dumbledore seemed to fully back Harry's plans.

"Professor..." He asked hesitantly. "Are you actually in favor of all this? Or are you just going along because you have to?"

The old wizard smiled grimly. "I do not value my life so highly that I would not speak out against your proposals if I felt they were wrong, Harry. Nor do I think you would kill me for giving my opinion. This move is frightening to our kind, certainly, but I suspect it will turn out for the best in the long run."

"I'm not even sure of that."

"Ah, but you see... I have some extra information."

Albus Dumbledore put both hands into a pocket of his robes, and carefully retrieved the Pensieve from it.

"You see, in the very first week of this school year, Professor Trelawney made a prophecy –"

His wand prodded the silvery substance in the basin, and a figure rose up out of its depths.

"HE IS COMING. THE ONE WHO WILL TEAR APART THE VERY STRUCTURE OF OUR WORLD. HE WILL ENSLAVE US. YET HE WILL SAVE US ALL."

Harry stared as the figure sank back down into the Pensieve.

"Is that – do you think that was about me?"

"I have wondered about this for a long time. I estimated that the prophecy could either refer to you, or to Lord Voldemort. I feared that it meant the rise of a new dark lord, or perhaps even a light lord. Your description of Voldemort's plans for the world, and for you, seemed frighteningly accurate." He folded his hands. "However, I believe it has been fulfilled rather than averted today. Certainly you have successfully enslaved us all."

"But I was here all along," Harry protested. "And I didn't exactly save everyone, did I?"

"You were not that person then," Dumbledore replied simply, "now, I daresay you are. As for the word 'save', in prophecies it can mean a great many things. You might have saved us from Voldemort's plans, from steady stagnation, or from the corruption that was slowly devolving our world. Perhaps it even refers to a future achievement you have not yet come to."

Such as defeating death, Harry thought. Making people not die would certainly count as saving them.

"As it is," the old wizard continued, "you have many enemies right now.. We are fortunate that your idea caused Voldemort's defeat for the eyes of the nation – Amelia has taken the liberty to supply the Muggles with a recording of my memories, to mend any holes in the video coverage of the event. It is likely that your public victory over the greatest dark lord who ever lived will give you enough popular support to overcome at least some of the hatred for relinquishing our autonomy."

Like Riddle intended. Although I probably won't be ruling any time soon. Placing the nation under Muggle authority is quite a disadvantage to have to overcome.

"Are we entirely sure he is dead, by the way?" Harry asked. "I've been thinking about it, and while it would make a lot of sense with the whole notion of a soul, I didn't get the idea that we actually know enough about the way horcruxes work to be completely convinced. Not to mention, Draco actually destroyed the Dementor. There wasn't much of a choice, since we couldn't exactly keep it around, but that might have made a difference."

"You are right to hesitate," the old wizard spoke soberly. "But the signs are positive, at least. Neither Alastor nor I saw a spirit escape, and it is important to realize that the Dementor's Kiss does not just take the soul, but also drains the magic. Even if the soul survived somehow, a spirit cannot function without its magic. Besides, Riddle seemed to fear the Dementor – if that was merely an act, he at least intends us to believe that he is gone now, which should give us another reprieve. That, along with the fact that Severus's mark has faded, is a hopeful sign, although I confess the mark is not fully gone." He sighed. "We may never have complete certainty, but for the time being, it seems that you have won your war."

Harry looked down. "It doesn't feel like victory," he complained. "Far too many have died."

"Ah yes," the old wizard said with a tone of understanding. "Such is the price of war. The winner gets to tell the tale afterwards, and so there is some victory, but it is always hard-bought."

"Professor –" Harry looked up at the old wizard. "There are a few things I wanted to ask you about death and souls."

"Ah? You no longer believe you have all the answers?"

"I'm not so sure anymore. You know that feeling of outpouring in the air when someone dies?" The old wizard nodded. "What is that?"

"It is the soul passing on, of course."

Harry nodded. "I thought you would say that. Do Muggles have it? Not Squibs, they are still able to see magical items and so on, but actual Muggles?"

The old wizard shook his head. "You cannot sense it for them. The outpouring is much stronger when a witch or wizard dies than a Squib – I believe because it is the magic that allows us to feel it."

"Or the feeling is nothing more than the magic leaving when someone dies."

The old man looked uncomfortable. "I suppose that is possible, but then, the magic does not carry the essence of a person. You would not experience the feeling of all that they were, if it was merely their magic."

"Perhaps," Harry sighed. "Okay, next question. Have you ever known someone with brain damage, like the Longbottoms, to die and become a ghost? Does the ghost maintain the damaged state, or are they healed somehow?"

The old man frowned. "I have never known someone like that to become a ghost, but to become a ghost is a rare event anyway, and wizards do not obtain brain damage as easily as Muggles seem to."

So, uncertain. Not that ghosts were necessarily a good indication of what a soul was or what happened to it anyway.

"And if someone dies by a Dementor, and you kill the body... do they give that feeling?"

"No," the old wizard said quietly.

"Thank you, Professor." He stared at the table for a few moments.

"You are grieving," the old wizard said carefully.

"I'm not grieving," Harry corrected. "I'm planning. Professor, can you put me in touch with Nicolas Flamel? I don't want to offend you, but perhaps he has answers that I can accept."

"Nicolas... is not very pleased with either you or me at the moment, I'm afraid," the old wizard spoke gravely.

Harry blinked. "Why not? Didn't we just secure the safety of his stone?"

"Like many, he prefers to die over being complicit in the potential destruction of the earth." The old wizard sighed deeply. "Despite his misgivings, he gave Alastor and Remus the instructions for the ritual because I had asked. He trusted my judgment. And I, foolishly, trusted yours. Since you asked for the ritual, which I had never told you about, I assumed that you knew more than you really did. I should not have forgotten that you are only eleven, and raised by Muggles besides. The fault is truly mine. I suspect my own desires played a significant role in this folly."

Harry's mouth was dry. "But I was right about what it did. Besides, even if the ritual hadn't summoned a Dementor, I'm pretty sure the True Patronus Charm would have worked against it."

"Do you truly not comprehend the gravity of our offense, Mr. Potter?" The ancient wizard looked into his eyes long and hard. "When the fate of the world is at stake, pretty sure does not suffice! If there was a one in a thousand chance that the ritual did not do what you expected, that it might have summoned an unstoppable horror that could have ended all human life, then you should not have even considered it. All turned out for the best yesterday, but what will happen the next time you make such a gamble?"

Harry looked down at the table. "I see the point. I guess this is exactly why Riddle doesn't like Muggle scientists."

"If they would take similar risks, then I imagine he has reason, yes."

"Could that be why Riddle allowed himself to be caught in that situation?" Harry wondered aloud. "That it was unthinkable to him that I would do something like that? But then, he knows I was raised by Muggles, and he's called me terms like 'extraordinary idiot' and 'witless dunce' on multiple occasions."

"Since he was the one who told you about the ritual," Dumbledore observed, "I would imagine the possibility of your using it against him did not slip his mind. However, the timing may have surprised him. Had you realized the implications before and told me of your suspicions, I would have deterred you from this course. In the unlikely event that you had managed to persuade me or others, it seems probable that we would have brought the components with us – something he may have tested for early on. Even as it was, the plan would not have worked without the Queen's timely interference. Without the few seconds distraction her use of the amulet provided, Riddle could have halted the ritual before its completion, restored the anti-phoenix wards before Barnok took you away, and, with all my powers expended, finished whatever plans he had without further obstacles."

Harry nodded. In the end, even a worst-case planner with a veritable pack full of backups could be surprised by reality.

"I believe Nicolas will forgive us eventually," Dumbledore said quietly. "He has a great heart, after all, and he has not betrayed my confession of how little I knew to the world at large. For the moment, however, it does not seem wise to press the point. Perhaps as a penance, you might wish to follow that course on caution with power that you placed on your list as a condition for Muggle scientists to work with magic. I shall of course take it to heart as well."

Harry smirked. "Thank you, I will definitely do that. But for a different topic, I don't suppose you have any books on Dementors? I know that no one's really sure how they work, but I wouldn't mind learning the dominant theories and the available evidence for each of them. I'm also willing to personally sponsor medical research on exactly what is wrong with the Dementor victims who are still alive. I know it wouldn't be safe to use Riddle's last body for that, but some others must have been delivered to hospitals by now."

"I can bring up the point and state your intentions to the Muggle representatives. There might even be some victims in Britain to work with. However –" Dumbledore fixed him with another one of his piercing looks. "Am I right to conclude that you are feeling guilty over Tom Riddle's fate?"

"He's not the only one who was Kissed recently," Harry bit.

"He is not," the former Headmaster conceded. "But it surprises me that you would ask about Dementor-victims before speaking of the corpses you had me protect with the anti-decomposition charm, which leads me to suspect that it is a matter of particular urgency in your mind."

Harry looked down, escaping the gaze. "I killed him."

"Remus and Alastor did," the former Headmaster pointed out.

"By my instructions. That makes it my responsibility as much as if I had struck a pole through his heart myself. Well, more, since that wouldn't have killed him, technically. He died by my hand, Professor."

"I suppose that that is true." The old wizard looked sympathetic, as though he understood completely what Harry was feeling despite having desired this death for many years. "But Harry, he chose this demise. He chose to split his soul, and kill so many people as to leave you no other option!"

"There's always another option!" Harry growled. "Maybe if I were smarter, or knew the whole picture or had other abilities, I would have seen a better way. And it's not just him! What about all those other people I led to their deaths? Lucius was a good father, Remus a good instructor and kind friend. And all those people on Dark Monday, do you think they would have been Kissed if I hadn't screwed up and given Riddle all the information he needed?"

"Your responsibility in those deaths was very small, Harry," the old wizard spoke sternly. "Your allies knew what they were risking, and they chose to follow you regardless. And as for the others who died – yes, it was a tragedy, and it might not have happened if you had never figured out how to destroy Dementors, but Voldemort would simply have struck elsewhere, and over the years, those Dementors have caused more harm than in the day you and your friends destroyed them. I will not tell you not to blame yourself, Harry – I know how pointless that would be – but be reasonable."

"I am entirely reasonable," Harry answered. "It is reasonable to regret their deaths, and to look for any possibilities to undo as many of those as possible."

The old wizard just shook his head sadly. "You should fight for the living, Harry, not obsess over those who have passed away. I will support you in enabling non-magical medical experiments, if only to promote your peace of mind, but I beg you: do not waste your life on a fool's errand."

"You don't know it's a fool's errand," Harry said wearily. "I have no idea whether anyone has ever tried to resurrect people before – I guess they probably have, it's just stupid not to when there's magic in the world – but with Muggle science I have a lot more tools at my disposal than those who have tried before. And don't give me that look. Must we really have this discussion again? I don't intend to die, or for anyone else to die, and I don't intend to let people stay dead either."

"I knew how you felt, Harry," the old wizard said slowly. "I can even appreciate wanting to stop people from dying while they don't yet want to go – in fact, I told myself that even if the goal of your quest is misguided, it might yet lead you to find great healing methods, or magical defenses like the Elder Wand. If your Patronus is any example of what can be achieved by rejecting death, I am eager to see more. But resurrection, Harry, that is a different matter. If you focus on the dead, you will achieve no good for the living! What is more, when you seek a way to undo death, the prospect of failure will only become worse as you grow older, while for mere immortality, the idea will become less daunting over time."

Harry gazed back at him. There was some sense in the words, he had to admit. At least in parts of them.

"I understand what you're saying, Professor," he said eventually. "And I'm not stupid. I won't become a hermit and throw away my life on a single project that might turn out to be a dead end. I understand that the laws of the universe might make resurrection a fundamentally impossible venture. I will do what I can immediately with the bodies of the people who have the greatest chance of being saved, though. I'm not about to give up without at least having tried. I also fully intend to encourage people to do what they can to preserve or save life – or preserve the chance of future recovery as well as possible." He shrugged. "But I'll prioritize working on immortality for the people who didn't die in the first place, and also don't mind taking some time out of my schedule to see about world peace and the other minor issues."

Dumbledore chuckled. Harry fixed him with a firm look.

"However," he added, "as for me being misguided, I am not so sure that you are talking to the right person. Honestly, I think you're lying to yourself. Lying on such a fundamental level that you don't even realize it."

The man's eyes widened only slightly.

"Can you consider," Harry asked seriously, "and I mean actually consider for five full minutes the scenario that you're wrong? That there isn't an afterlife; you just cease to be when you die, that every death is like a Dementor's Kiss. And then suppose that there is a way that wizards and Muggles might find, that gives you the ability to live forever... wouldn't you take that?"

There was silence, for some time.

"Poppy told me this morning," the old wizard spoke eventually, "that she longed to see a twinkle in my eye again. And I daresay that in time, she will, for great things have happened in the last two days, and as the days pass by, there will surely be small diversions and innocent laughter again."

"What does that –"

"But regardless," the old wizard pressed on, "I have still lived through all these things. Three wars, Harry, not counting Muggle wars that I was not involved in. I have lost too many. So many friends. All of my family. Some died to age or accident, some to my follies, some even died by my own hand. And there are others, whom I killed or let die, some evil perhaps, some not. All precious. And no matter what else may happen, I will always carry that grief, that guilt, in my heart. So no, I do not wish to live with that grief forever, even if the alternative is the Dementor's Kiss. I shall carry on while I am still needed, but when death comes, I shall not resist it. Or if my dying would serve a greater purpose than my living, well..." He smiled weakly. "You already know that answer."

Harry nodded, a lump in his throat.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Finally, Harry broke the silence.

"There's something else I wanted to talk about, too."

The old wizard sat back and folded his hands. "Go ahead."

"Do you speak Latin? Or do you know of a reliable person who does, and who has some time available? I know you're a busy man, especially since I kind of set your schedule."

"The time for what, exactly?"

From his pouch, Harry retrieved the diary of Francis Bacon.

"The Defense Professor gave me this, months ago. He told me he stole it, but he didn't say who from and he wasn't going to put it back. We should probably return it, if there's a way to figure out the owner, but I'd reaeaeaeaeaeally like a copy first. It's the diary of Roger Bacon, you see."

This failed to produce the desired response.

"He's a key figure in the history of science," Harry explained with an internal grumble of having expected a wizard to understand. "Apparently he was a Muggleborn wizard, born in the middle ages. This could be really important, and is absolutely, undeniably, really really interesting. It's a priceless historical artifact."

"And you expect that it will say something about a tree," Dumbledore concluded.

"Yes. Perhaps the location of a favorite tree where he used to daydream or something. Riddle would have read it before giving it to me, and he might have used a specific place to hide some clue for me. He used his last breath to tell me about it," Harry pointed out. "It's bound to be important."

"To him, yes." The old wizard carefully took the diary in his hands and rifled through it. "I shall read this tonight – I should be able to find the time. But I urge you to be very wary. Whatever we find might well be a trap to kill you after all."

"To what purpose?" Harry shrugged. "If we are right, he's dead. He doesn't benefit from killing me anymore." Or from anything else I might do, for that matter. Considering that, it was strange that he might try to reach beyond the grave.

"Oh?" The old wizard raised an eyebrow. "Do you fully understand his motives, then?"

"I think I do." Harry stared ahead. He had had a whole day to think about it, after all. "Although there's a lot to it. He's been adapting his plans with every new bit of information."

The former Headmaster quirked an eyebrow and put the diary aside. "I should like to hear about it."

"He was afraid of death," Harry said simply. "In the end you were right about that part. He was so afraid of death that it possessed his being, that he would consider any alternative over dying." Before falling asleep, he had remembered the feeling when he had asked his dark side's opinion on death, in the sombre corridors of Azkaban. Riddle, if the part of his personality that resided in Harry was anything to go by, was absolutely terrified of non-existence. "And I can completely agree with that, but he didn't care about other people's existence; just his own."

The old wizard nodded.

"So he made his Horcruxes," Harry continued. "But it wasn't enough. Even making a round dozen and sending some of them out to space would never be enough. Not while there was a risk of the complete annihilation of earth. It's great being immortal, but you need to have somewhere to live too, and I don't think he really fancied being a wandering spirit stuck on a dead pile of rubble forever floating through space."

"So he feared Muggles," Dumbledore nodded. "Like you concluded before."

"Yes. But it wasn't war he feared, I should have realized that. His vehement response about nuclear weapons was merely an example, a case of Muggle stupidity he encountered in his formative years, but ultimately not the main issue. Complete nuclear annihilation was a known risk, something a powerful wizard like he could control. I'm pretty sure he at least had warning spells on existing missiles, probably along with some well-placed Imperiuses. Nor was there ever much risk in a war between wizards and Muggles: there would be heavy casualties, but wizards could hide out. What he feared was all the unknowns of scientific development. There are so many ways people could blow up human society by accident... There wasn't really an immediate danger, but then, even reading scientific journals he might not pick up on a new existential risk in time to do something about it."

The old wizard looked considering. "Which is why he wanted to rule the world."

"Yes. I doubt he really cared much about ruling, but he wanted there to be a world. So he did the obvious thing: he created a terrible dark threat, so wizards would put aside their squabbling and unite against the common enemy. And for the dark wizard he took a platform that the most irrational people, the greatest losers, could unite behind. He was setting the blood supremacists up to be defeated, which would have created the best opportunity to build a rational, undivided government afterwards."

"But that didn't work out," Dumbledore concluded.

"No," Harry agreed. "It didn't. Turns out it's actually very hard to get people to unite. A common enemy is a good first step, but people will drag their feet on acting as long as it seems they'll get away with it. People weren't going to unite behind David Monroe, so he retired him and made the dark lord threat worse, so a new hero could rise."

"Which would be you?"

"No. I think it was meant to be you, actually."

Dumbledore blinked.

"Strength flows from powerful wizards and their followers, that's what he told me. What he wanted was a strong leader. When Yermy Wibble called for a draft, it actually got pretty close to what Riddle wanted, but he would never have been a strong enough leader. So the dark lord 'set an example', to discourage weak people from stepping into shoes they could never fill. A powerful wizard would not be so easily cowed. And indeed, in the end a very powerful wizard did step up to lead the war efforts, when it became clear that no one else would. Unfortunately, the wizard in question did not call for a draft, or institute a light mark."

"I never sought to rule," Dumbledore breathed. "Not since I was young, not after Gellert –" He shook his head.

"He might have hoped he could fix that," Harry shrugged. "Didn't the war teach you to weigh your pieces for their value, to make the rational rather than the emotional choice? You thought he was being cruel for cruelty's sake, but in reality he was shaping you into a better leader."

Dumbledore shut his eyes, grief covering his face.

"But that didn't work either," Harry said quietly. "Truth be told, you're a bit of a hopeless case. You started out with powerful ideals, and even if you had to compromise them out of need, you'll never give them up completely. I think Riddle understands people very well overall, but he has trouble with people who genuinely care about others and try to do what is right for altruistic reasons. He can't predict people like Hermione, or like you, as accurately as others."

"But surely he could never have thought that I would come to subjugate Muggles?"

"You wouldn't need to," Harry explained. "Just change the pattern of the world. He was handing you Britain on a silver platter. If you were willing to compromise more, destroy your enemies and show your strength – if you had forced, manipulated or even actively encouraged people to join the fight, or done something brutal but effective like forcing all Hogwarts students to declare under Veritaserum that they were not aware of their family being involved with the Death Eaters – you could have appealed to the Slytherin side of the population as well as the Gryffindors who already sing you as their hero. It would have been easy for you to unite the country and become dictator in practice if not in name. With the blood purist side heavily discredited, you could have made massive reforms and led the country into an era of peace and prosperity. However, you're old. Eventually, you would have died – quite possibly with some help – and that would leave a power gap. The road would be open for a new dictator to take over, since the example was already there. And Riddle would have made sure he moved into that gap, and then he could have set his further plans in motion."

The old wizard breathed deeply. "But that didn't happen."

"No," Harry agreed. "You weren't cooperating. But then something unexpected happened: a new hero was prophesied. I'm still not sure whether that was real or he faked it, but in the end I don't think it matters much. He made his move to fulfill the prophecy one way, and to be seen to fulfill it the other way. He turned the child who would be his nemesis into a horcrux and then set off some magical effect that killed him and gave me that scar. The wizarding world got its miracle and could rebuild, while a ready-made hero was there to grow into the future leader."

Dumbledore's eyes had widened and his mouth was open.

"Hermione came up with the horcrux idea," Harry clarified. "It seemed to fit with the story you found of the child possessed by an ambulatory wizard. But I don't know whether it's accurate." He shrugged. "This part is really guesswork; I just don't know enough about horcruxes, souls and possession to make a prediction I'd be remotely sure about. But there are multiple theories that would fit the data. For a start, you said that a painting horcrux would reflect the intelligence and personality of the owner, so it seems plausible that a human horcrux would create a permanent kind of possession by the intelligence in the horcrux. However, I would have needed to convincingly act like a child for ten years, so perhaps he only copied his personality, not his memories. Or he Obliviated me afterwards, if that was possible without magical interference. He arranged for a high probability that I would grow up in similar circumstances as he had."

Dumbledore just kept staring, his face horrified.

"That also didn't work out," Harry said simply, but he didn't meet the old wizard's gaze, as he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about this particular theory. "Perhaps because I was too young: I was a growing child, my brain was going through massive developments at the time. I suspect my consciousness ended up absorbing his, and my mind became my own. His influence is still there, but it cannot control me unless I get angry, or recently only when I let it. It does sort of feel like a separate entity, but it doesn't have a mind of its own and it cannot possess me; it's simply a different way I sometimes am."

Dumbledore shook himself. "I admit this is a much better explanation than the one I had before, although it is... concerning. Are you comfortable with this?"

Harry grimaced. "It's not like I can change it. I am who I am. I do hope you're not going to kill me?" Perhaps he shouldn't have told the man about this possibility, but it was entirely likely that he would eventually figure it out regardless. Better to break the news now, while the man was still under his power, and after reminding the old wizard of his ideals and telling him that Voldemort's plans involved turning him into a killer.

The old man shook his head. "I can't see it helping much, especially since it seems he was quite prepared to kill you himself."

"True," Harry nodded. "Even if he's still around, he undoubtedly has too many horcruxes for any individual one to matter."

Dumbledore nodded. "So his plan failed. Again."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "Although in his defense, the plans weren't so bad, it's just really kind of hard to conquer the world and get it in a state where everyone accepts that situation."

"Oh, I wasn't accusing," the old wizard smiled.

"Anyway, he came to Hogwarts in the same year I would," Harry continued. "Where he must have quickly realized the plan hadn't exactly gone as planned. But it was close enough: I wasn't a young version of him, but I did end up smart and ambitious, and somewhat isolated from other children. So he became my mentor, to guide my thinking along the desirable lines, where I would eventually want to rule the world. He might have succeeded without Hermione pulling me back, or if he'd had more time before I figured him out. As it was, he was pretty far along, seeing as I did in fact want to overthrow the government of magical Britain."

"Which you did," the old wizard observed.

"Well yes. Anyway, since I was removed from his mentoring, he had to move quickly, before other people influenced the direction of my ambitions too much. Therefore, he started a war. It was always only a matter of time before the Statute of Secrecy would come plummeting down; with technology improving and magic degenerating, I don't think we could have kept up the masquerade for more than another twenty, maybe thirty years. So he must have had dozens of safety precautions in place, and that's why he felt safe starting it now. It started very violently, but I think that he could easily have kept tensions going for years if necessary, like so many conflict areas, or like the ten year war in Britain. A war with Muggles would create many opportunities for me to prove myself, and I was always going to make a large move eventually, because whether or not I want to rule the world, I do want to stop people dying."

"And you rose to the challenge rather earlier than expected."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," Harry contradicted him. "He always did have rather high expectations."

"But you said he knew you," Dumbledore noted. "Why would he expect you to subjugate Muggles?"

"I don't think that's what he had in mind," Harry shrugged. "More likely, he intended me to act the way Lucius expected. I would bring peace – with his cooperation, I should be able to pull that off. That, combined with my past, would give me a lot of credit, which would allow me to rise to a leading position in the political landscape, and earn the respect from Muggles too. Since there's a lot more things I want to do, I probably wouldn't be able to stop myself from using that influence, and over time, I would be able to become the strong leader he desired all along. And then I could either rise naturally to a dictatorship over both worlds, or set the golden example of a benevolent magical dictator, to be replaced after my eventual demise by someone more suitable to his plans. That, or I'd manage to encourage the space program well enough to allow wizards to escape the earth before Muggles destroy it."

"I see." Dumbledore frowned. "And yet you didn't. You held that potential, and you deliberately threw it away."

"I do not trust myself enough for such authority," Harry answered simply. "I don't think I'd trust anyone like that. Democracy is not a very good solution, but at least it stops the more extreme imbalances of power."

"You don't fear the destruction of the world, then?"

"Of course I do! And I do intend to prepare for that. But there is one thing that Riddle never understood, or at least never believed in." He sat up a little straighter. "People can learn. The failures of democracy are not so much because people are selfish, but because they are stupid. There's loads of experimental studies showing how people's minds go wrong and make terrible mistakes that might work great in a tribal environment but not really in the current world. Professor Quirrell always got cynical about that sort of thing. But I believe it can be fixed, and I'm planning to use the influence I hold now to do just that."

The old wizard looked intrigued. "How?"

"Many ways," Harry said. "The first was the requirement for a caution course that any scientist working with magic is obliged to pass. Since magic is likely to become a large part of many sciences, I suspect the course will end up making its way into standard undergraduate curricula, which means that even those scientists and engineers who only work with strictly Muggle methodology will be aware of it. Once this becomes standard, there will probably be a large discussion on the publish or perish culture, which wizards can fuel and – judging by my father's opinions – Muggle scientists will almost certainly back us on completely."

"Do not think too lightly on what 'wizards' will do," Dumbledore warned him. "We are not all of a single mind. You will almost certainly need to push the issue yourself, or at least encourage your allies to do so."

"That's the other part," Harry said. "I'll still be in the Wizengamot, and so will Draco be once he's of age, but I'm hoping you will cooperate on fixing the problem from the wizard side as well. There's fewer of us, but I expect we'll be very visible as sub-culture, so we can can set an example. When Hogwarts is rebuilt, I want science and rationality to be put into the new curriculum as a mandatory course."

The former Headmaster frowned. "I'm not sure –"

"You already approved something very close," Harry pointed out. "When you hired my father as a temporary Professor. What do you think he was teaching? He never got more than a single week, and it was only an elective class, but it's the same idea."

"The curriculum is already very full, though."

"So add a year! Perhaps you could even add Muggle electives like French or maths if an extra year gives you too much time to spare."

The old wizard looked very grave now.

"Just think about it," Harry urged. "Now that we're going to have closer ties to the Muggle world, teaching wizards the style of thinking and methodology of science would be a really good idea. Many of those students are going to be working together with Muggle scientists later. As for rationality, if we can teach all children to think properly and not just believe things through some crazy pattern-matching scheme, then in twenty years you'll have a Wizengamot whose members would actually realize that someone like Hermione Granger probably didn't commit a cold-blooded murder. And if they encountered someone who did, they'd still be able to think about such things as proportional response and reintegration in society rather than going with gut feelings of revenge. I know you yourself haven't had this training, Professor, but you must also see that the gains to the world would be tremendous."

"I suppose..." the old wizard said slowly. "But did our enemy himself not think 'rationally', as you describe it?"

"He did," Harry conceded. "But he was... special. Cold. Besides, in a world where a substantial portion of people think rationally, even he would not have felt a need to act as he did. When everyone thinks properly, all you need to make people work towards your goal is to shift circumstances so that it advantages the people you want to influence – which in his case would be very easy, as his goal of not getting the earth destroyed was pretty much good for everyone. Because most people don't think like that, he decided that the only way was to manipulate them through fear and narrative expectations."

The old wizard. "Very well. If Hogwarts is rebuilt – and I must warn that it might well take years, and will only be a semblance of its former self – and if I am still Headmaster at the time, I will do as you ask."

"Thank you."

Dumbledore leaned forward and picked up the diary again, rifling through it and casting a number of spells. "At first glance, it is strictly non-magical, but more tests will be necessary to be sure."

"I don't think there's much of a hurry. But will you study it, or get someone else to?"

The man looked weary.

"Do keep in mind that it's almost certainly a trap –"

"Perhaps. But for now, I'm not asking for anything to be done, I just want to know what information we have. If the diary contains a hint as to some kind of location, I'll ask volunteers to go look there, and it's not like we could make sure people stay away from such a location forever anyway. I will be sure to consult you on safety measures, as long as those safety measures do not involve me not knowing certain things. Can you live with that?"

The old wizard sighed. "Very well, then. Let us see what Tom Riddle intends us to do."

Marielle sat still in her cell, reading quietly. She wasn't allowed a wand, or her Time-Turner when she wasn't forced to use it, but while she was well-behaved she could at least peruse her school books and was fed three meals a day. Not that the arrangement was necessary to keep her in line; the moment she stirred out of bounds that madwoman would be allowed to deal with her. She'd been thinking of becoming an Auror, before, but if she ever got out of here – and she was losing more hope of that with every passing day – she was going to research alternative career paths. After two tastes of the Cruciatus Curse, she was not about to risk ever being on the wrong side of dark wizards again.

Suddenly, a blinding silvery-white light appeared. A Patronus? No, it couldn't be, the human shape was impossible. And yet, what else could it be?

The woman on the other side of the bars looked at the thing with an expression of wonder, which baffled Marielle more than its presence. The woman reached out a hand to touch the glowing man, and it spoke:

"Hello mother. It's me, your son Lesath. The Aurors have sworn that if you surrender, you won't be harmed, and you won't be sent back to the Dementors either. You don't have to if you're in a better place now, but if you're stuck wherever you are, please consider it. I don't want you to die."

The woman stared at the magical creature and opened and shut her mouth several times, before she finally asked the question Marielle, too, was struggling to wrap her mind around.

"I have a son?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Author's Note: the amulet introduced in the last two chapters has been a matter of some question in discussions and reviews, so I figured I'd give my ideas on its history...

Merlin made the amulet to allow the king a modicum of control over their wizards, but not ultimate control: it limits their power, but doesn't take it away altogether. A single dark lord, or a small group of magic users, cannot just go after the king, because the latter will limit their power and then the king's own wizards will be able to overpower him. However, a bad king (or at least, one who treats wizards badly) would quickly be overthrown, since wizards can still band together at half power and be strong enough to take out the army; they couldn't kill him with magic, but they could simply cut the head off with a sword.

The Queen, of course, does not descend directly from King Arthur, which is the king Merlin would have given his amulet to. The English crown has been passed on through a lot of war, murder, betrayal and whatnot. However, in the days before the Statute of Secrecy, the existence of the amulet would be known among the higher nobility and their wizards. I imagine the people taking the crown would generally be at least moderately aware of the amulet – and if not, they might recognize that a precious jewel that glows is obviously magical, and inquire. Even if wizards were reluctant to give information, a king could torture it out of close relatives of the last king.

Of course, such a way of passing the information is faulty, and at some point, the instructions on how to use the amulet were lost. Still, knowing as little as "protection from and control over magic users" (the general explanation that a king might leak to friends and family members) would definitely be a good reason to keep passing it on.

As someone on the reddit pointed out (and I like this suggestion so much I might consider it canon): given the desirability of an amulet that gives you power over and protection from magic users, it is entirely likely that it was the reason for the bloody succession of English royalty!

Riddle did not know about the amulet: it was extremely obscure knowledge about a magical item that can be used only by a single person who doesn't even know about it in a somewhat local setting (parts of Britain following boundaries no one can figure out anymore). Even Thicknesse, who worked for the Ministry for all his adult life and made it his business to know all the laws and workings of the country had only heard of the law that the monarch was above them, not about the item itself. Then again, in the end, the effect of the amulet was very small. Given the limits to its functionality – restricting magical power, rather than blocking it altogether – it cannot really win a battle on its own, although it can turn the tide.