Dialogues

...WITH PORTRAITS

An old man stood alone in the sudden silence of a darkened cave. He reached into his robes and brought out a very peculiar, very familiar watch. He was able to read it though and determined that the hour was late indeed. He reached into another pocket and grasped onto on old thimble. With one word, "Activate," he vanished from view and re-appeared in front of a large desk cluttered with broken and twisted pieces of metal.

He closed his eyes for just a moment to allow himself a little time to readjust to the sudden brightness of the light and as he did so a voice from behind spoke. "Ah you finally return."

The old man reopened his eyes and turned to face the source of the voice. Upon the circular walls surrounding him were the many faces of all those who had held one of the most prestigious positions that a witch or wizard could ever hope to achieve, a position that this old man was very proud of, a position he was willing to do almost anything to preserve for future generations, even to the extent of lying to the one person its future depended upon.

"Indeed I am Phineas," this man responded to the portrait that had spoken with a tired, heavy sigh. Taking off his glasses, he tapped his wand gently on their rim and they immediately transformed into a very distinct half-moon shape.

"Am I right to assume that the gullible young fool bought your little ruse?" the portrait asked slyly. All he got was a short, resigned nod of the head in response. "Lying for a prolonged period of time can be incredibly draining, can't it?" the portrait continued, drawling smugly from within its frame. "Perhaps you should ask Severus Snape how to do it properly for so long a period of time. He is, after all, an expert at it."

"That's enough Phineas!" the old man responded sternly. "Sometimes what is distasteful must be done, regardless of personal feelings," he explained as he rubbed his forehead softly, a forehead which was quickly, quietly changing shape.

"Hear! Hear!" exclaimed several other portraits, clearly in agreement, but just as the worried and tired face of the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry took full form a strong female voice voiced her opinion from somewhere over his left shoulder.

"But to lie to the poor boy in such an elaborate and cruel way Albus. He thinks he's just met the greatest wizard of all time! If he ever finds out that it was all a ruse and that it was only you in disguise, he'll never forgive you!"

Albus Dumbledore bowed his head and fell wearily into his chair behind his desk. "I know Dilys, but I am willing to risk it. I feel..."

But whatever he felt had to wait a moment because in a flash of flame a Phoenix made its appearance in the room and landed swiftly on its perch. Without a word spoken Dumbledore flicked his wand in the Phoenix's direction, which immediately reverted very slightly into its proper form.

"I trust Harry and Hedwig arrived home safely Fawkes?" Dumbledore got a short shrill of Phoenix song in response. "Good," he said replacing his wand into one of the many folds in his robes.

"As I was about to say Dilys," he resumed, turning once more to the portrait of the former Headmistress Dilys Derwent, "I feel I must do anything I can to ensure that Harry is to survive his final encounter with Tom. At the moment, barring divine intervention there is no way that a sixteen year-old wizard - no matter how powerful or fortuitous - can outlast Tom Riddle in a duel. He has fifty more years of magical knowledge and understanding in his favour and has used his wand to kill dozens of times. We need...sorry, Harry needs all the advantages he can muster because I fear he will not have too long to prepare himself to face his burden."

"What did you - sorry Merlin - say to him?" another voice piped up.

Dumbledore turned to his right. "What needed to be said Armando," he told his immediate predecessor. "Harry was told that if he focuses he will quickly become an extremely formidable wizard, one who could quite easily defeat Tom when the time comes to face him one last time. I told him that he will become the greatest wizard of all time."

All the portraits fell silent. Except one. "Ah, of course!" Phineas Nigellus exclaimed sarcastically, "If in doubt, lie and massage the brat's already over-inflated ego and all shall be fine."

"For your information, Phineas," Dumbledore interrupted before the portrait could rant any longer, "I did not lie. In the fullness of time Harry would have become an extraordinary wizard. I doubt that even Merlin could have driven away over 100 dementors at the tender age of 13. I myself am confident I could not have achieved that particular feat until the year I passed my NEWTS." Dumbledore paused, and then spoke while his eyes wandered over each portrait in turn. "You all saw that he didn't just use his hands to destroy this office over a month ago! I doubt that any of you have seen such a display of raw, uncontrolled wandless magic before. Unfortunately, Harry does not have the luxury of progressing naturally and discovering and harnessing his power at his own pace."

"So you actually gave him the ring?" Phineas asked incredulously.

"I did."

"A worthless ring that does absolutely nothing?"

"It does not do nothing, Phineas. I enchanted it to reflect Harry's mood. If he becomes excessively angry or hateful the ring will start to expand and would eventually slip off of his finger. I don't want him using such emotions to fuel his spells. I don't want to risk him following the path that Tom Riddle took, as indeed I have just explained to him in person. Beyond it being an emotion detector as it were, the ring is nothing but a silver band with a blue pendant. I told Harry that it would act as a focus for his magic however; much like a wand, except only better."

All of the portraits gasped. "So you really did do what you said you would! Are you sure that was wise?" asked a red-nosed corpulent portrait. "It normally takes years for even the most powerful of wizards to master the simplest of spells without a wand."

"I am aware of that fact Fortescue." Dumbledore responded. "However, later today Harry will be removed from the Dursleys' care for the final time. By next summer he must be capable of defending himself against the most powerful of opponents, which will mean he will no longer require such protection as he is currently under. I will have a discussion with him later today. In fact, I think it would be best if I let him enjoy his birthday and talk with him on this matter later in the week. During our talk I will inform him of my plan of action. Under my pupillage, I am confident that Harry will master his innate wandless abilities in a matter of weeks. Perhaps sixth months if he has any difficulties. Anything I ask or demand of him, I am sure that he can do. He truly is that special.

"It is time for Harry to assume now the mantle which would have been his in time anyway, Prophecy or not," he continued. "I must believe that Harry can do what is demanded of him, and more importantly, he must believe it too. Being told by Merlin himself of the true power he possesses will hopefully have the desired effect and give him the self-confidence he needs to defeat Tom. One day I might tell him of how I tricked him tonight, but that day will not come until he is powerful enough, and mature enough, to accept it."

He rose tiredly and gingerly from his seat. "Now, it is late and I am dearly in need of rest. Goodnight everyone."

Dumbledore turned around amidst the tired and disgruntled voices of the portraits wishing him goodnight. He trudged wearily into his private chambers. Although he had presented his arguments clearly and confidently to the assembled former Headmasters and Headmistresses, he ultimately agreed with their concerns. He was deeply worried that the actions he had taken over the last few hours could lead to drastic, dire consequences. If Harry discovered too soon the truth of the night's events... well he shuddered just thinking about it. Before he climbed into bed though another portrait spoke, this time one that hung by itself on the walls of the bedchamber, a portrait that no on knew existed save the current Headmaster himself.

"Do not fret young wizard," it said, "when the time is ripe you shall bring Harry here and we shall tell him together of the plan I insisted you implement. After all, not everything you said while posing as myself was a lie was it?"

"No it wasn't Merlin," Dumbledore answered, "but could you please stop calling me young, I am 150 years old!"

"I believe I was twice that age when I died... Albus Dumbledore," the portrait of the legend said with a smirk. "Anyway, the hurt of you lying to him in such a manner will be lessened if I talk to him too."

"I am still unsure that the course of action I've just taken was the right one. But can we please talk more about this another time; I really do need some sleep."

"Of course. Goodnight... young wizard."

Dumbledore grumbled unhappily and shook his head. Later today he would personally escort Harry from Privet Drive to The Burrow, where preparations for his birthday party were complete. Today was going to be a celebration; all the troubles ahead could wait until tomorrow. When sleep finally came, it was sorely needed.

THE END