Truth Beneath the Eyes

Truth Beneath the Eyes

Harry returned on foot wearily back to Hogwarts from his last and final trial, feeling incredibly empty inside despite his triumph. At long last, Voldemort was out of everyone´s life forever, and yet he did not seem to register that fact in his mind as he made his way back to the school that was more home to him than anywhere else he had ever been.

So many lives had been lost, so many. It started with Cedric way back in fourth year, and after that the numbers of the dead had continued to rise beyond measure and he felt partially responsible for the return of the Dark Lord. True, it had been unwilling that he had taken part in the ritual that had arisen him, but never had that ever occurred to him as he recounted every single time he had been responsible for getting his friends in any type of fix which nearly got them killed. Ron in the chess game, Hermione with the basilisk....

He hardly noticed that he was travelling through the dark forbidden forest as he reminisced about all of the trouble his presence had brought to the school he loved so dearly. The creatures of the forest who would have any other day taken him as easy prey backed away, sensing that this was hardly just another student. The vapidity of his eyes set them all back, as though they held some dark secret at the pit of an endless green abyss. It scared them, for they knew he had become greater than them all and, for the moment, no longer cared for his own life or the life of anyone else.

Harry took no notice of the creatures of the night cautiously avoiding him, including an immense spider that was surely the successor to Aragog. His mind flew back to recount the events of the night. They were so clear, and yet so vague at the same time and, as he grasped at the parts that were clearer than most, they vanished. No matter, he knew there was now blood on his hands. As long as he lived he would always remember that.

He had been responsible for two deaths that night, one he had caused himself. Wormtail had repaid him for saving him from death back in third year by sacrificing himself for Harry. And then Harry had later killed Voldemort, but not out of rage or hatred. He had for something else. It was as though all reason had been washed from him and he had acted without feeling. He had acted like a murderer.

The school was now in sight, and he looked up with vacant eyes. It was so close, so in reach, and something seemed to be troubling it. There seemed to be panic within, the light of in the openings making it look somewhat like a fierce battle was occurring, though he had no idea why or what had caused it. He did not feel troubled by it as he should have been. He only looked in wonder, trying to discern why he did not feel the sudden exhilaration of returning to a place so familiar. He was just... empty.

He went forth across the fields, past the magnificent Quidditch pitch where he had bested more than a few good flyers and past the docile lake that was home to the giant squid and the merfolk. The school came closer and into sharper focus as he approached, and still he felt empty, though he figured that this was probably to be expected.

Opening the doors to the Entrance Hall, he found it unusually vacant. It was, however, probably past curfew and everyone was to be in their dorms and asleep. Taking hardly any notice, he advanced into the Great Hall with every intent of going up to the dorms himself.

The door swung wide open easily, despite it´s size. Harry had merely pushed it and a moment later there was an immense crash as the door collided with the wall. There was a congregation of people around the staff table who turned abruptly; Dumbledore, teachers, head boy and girl, prefects, and Ron, who was oddly visible under the invisibility cloak. They all stared at him as though he was a ghost, not moving or speaking. It seemed as though they were all caught in a moment in time.

"Harry, you´re-" Hermione managed to choke out, but no more though her words reverberated throughout the hall. Her eyes flashed to his arm a few moments later and she looked as though she could be sick.

Harry turned his vacant eyes to his left arm to see what she had. The arm of his robe had torn off in a duel that he could not remember to reveal a fiercely bleeding wound at his elbow. Beneath the blood, he could see the white glimmering of a bone that was jutting out, edges jagged. He could not feel his arm, or the pain, in the least.

He looked back up to them, his expression still blank, and saw Ron coming closer, though on his face and in the way he moved anyone who could see him could tell that he was unsure. There was something different about Harry now, something that none of them could quite place, though they all were very sure to avoid his eyes. Somehow they knew that they should not or could not look at them for fear of falling into a deep dark depth that none of them could ever truly escape, even in death.

Harry felt the overwhelming weariness overcome him now, tired from the battle fought and the loss of blood. His head swam for the first time in what had seemed like lifetimes and he welcomed every ounce of it as it enveloped him in blackness.

* * *

The first time Harry truly came awake again was a week later in the familiar surroundings of the Hospital Wing. The scents came back first, then the sounds. He lay there on the warm, soft bed with his eyes still closed, pretending to still sleep out of habit. He knew it was foolish, especially now that he was seventh year and he was to graduate this year. Gingerly, he opened his eyes and prepared himself for the light which was not present. The room was dim, though through the crack in the window he could see that it was either early morning or late afternoon.

He sat up gingerly and looked around the familiar and welcoming place where he had spent many a day in protesting the need for more rest. On the table beside him, sweets and gifts from the concerned rested as they always did. On his other side, the figures of Ron and Hermione slept in their chairs. He had put them through so much over the years, so much...

Both of them stirred simultaneously at his gaze and he was brought out of his thoughts. They looked to him at a loss for words at how truly happy they were that he was alive, and that it was all finally over, but he knew what they were thinking. An unspoken understanding passed through them once again that they were all so familiar with and grateful for. Ron and Hermione began to recount the events that he had missed since the graduation ceremony when he left, knowing that he would tell his story when he was ready and wanting him not to have missed out on the few important events that had happened.. A large black dog he had not noticed before came out from under the bed and Harry rested his hand on him, glad to have his godfather by his side.

Madame Pomfrey came by an hour later and gingerly told them that Harry needed his rest. They eventually did leave, Sirius with them, after much protesting and negotiating. Harry settled back on the pillow, eating a piece of chocolate that he was given and hoping that he could simply forget. His slumber had been dreamless and now the memories of the night were coming back in sharp focus.

Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing, telling Madame Pomfrey that he needed to speak with Harry alone. She bustled somewhat reluctantly out of their way and Dumbledore took a seat at the foot of Harry´s bed.

"Feeling better I see," Dumbledore commented offhandedly. Harry felt as though there was something strange about him now, though he could not place what. "What happened that night at the last duel with Voldemort? I wish I could have asked earlier, but it was far out of my hands."

"He´s dead," Harry said shortly, not feeling any particular need to elaborate. What was it that was different about Dumbledore? He could not quite place it for he acted the same, spoke the same, yet it all seemed different. The expression on his face was as kindly as it had ever been as kindly blue eyes looked at him from behind gold rimmed glasses. His eyes...

He saw it in that instant and Dumbledore knew it. The normally twinkling blue eyes had a horrible red and green swirling beneath them sickeningly. This was not the true Dumbledore, though he was sure that it was the same one that had been there for all of the years that he had. His mind formed many questions that he never voiced, not that they had to be.

He remembered a voice form years before that told him that the school was truly safe only as long as Dumbledore was there. Who had said that? He hadn´t really thought very much into it at the time, but for some reason it seemed very important now.

"You know the truth now young Potter, or the truth so to speak," Dumbledore said coolly. He came slightly closer and spoke quietly, Harry remaining deathly silent and more fearful now than he had ever been before, and would ever be again. "Voldemort is now, or rather was, a pawn in a great game of chess to take over the Wizarding World. He used to be the king, but when you destroyed him, I left. Neither I, or this body are Albus Dumbledore. This body belongs to that squib relative of Dumbledore´s, who bears an uncanny resemblance after a bit of work. I am Salazar Slytherin, more ambitious in my pseudo death than I was in life.

"You took me from my old body, the strong Dark Lord, only to bring me to this one. Oh, the real Dumbledore is safe and sound in the Chamber of Secrets. That chamber holds more than you could possibly imagine, and Dumbledore is now one of it´s best kept secrets. Alive and never withering, something that the philosopher´s stone could offer to no better wizard."

Harry could see that this Dumbledore, the one who was possessed by what seemed to be the spirit of Salazar Slytherin, was easy to boast about his deeds and took this as a time to gather information just in case it would be needed later. He felt for his wand and found it still in his pocket; his tattered robes still unchanged from that night last week. Now he would be ready if anything should happen, though he doubted his ability to hit a man that had helped him so much over the years.

"Tom Riddle was a much easier person to mould to my will," the pseudo-Dumbledore was saying, "as he was my heir and still in the family. This squib was more of a challenge. Yes, he resisted as best he could, but it was not nearly enough. I can be more forceful than any mere wizard.

"When that old body of mine, that Riddle, came back, I saw an opportunity awaiting me. Let him wreak his havoc for a few years longer, he wasn´t as strong anymore without me there to provide him with extra power and guidance, and then dispose of them. When the Wizarding World was off cheering again, I could build my empire under the guise of one of the most trusted wizards on the planet.

"No one can stop me, not anymore. The ministry will begin preparations to tell the world that Voldemort has been defeated for good. No one can possibly stop me, and if you ever tell anyone this then you shall not be believed."

The smile that spread across the familiar face of Dumbledore´s was malicious and ruthless, something that seemed so very out of place on the kindly old wizard. But Harry knew his words to be all too true, and that there would be no one who would believe him if he told them.

"Why am I telling you this? You, the heir of Gryffindor still have so much of Godric in you. I know that you will never join me, so I want to see you suffer immeasurably. Your ancestor humiliated me and turned the other founders against me when they allowed those mudbloods into the school. He deserved much worse than the painless death he got when it came to him, so I decided to take my revenge on his descendants.

"I think I will let you live, for a time. And I do think you should know that the scar that has made you most famous is now connected to me rather than to that fool that called himself Voldemort."

Harry´s fear had risen immeasurably, though his mind had begun to make connections. True enough, the school itself would be safe while Dumbledore remained in it and it remained so and never fell. The students, however, would only be safe so long as he ran the school and there had been a new threat every year that this Dumbledore imitation had been in the headmaster position.

Dumbledore got up and left, his eyes now returning to how they once were and appearing in every way as the man that Harry knew. He stared after him, wonder never leaving him and his confusion mounting beyond anything he had ever known.

There was a startling rattle from behind one of the curtain dividers that drew his attention away from the door. A pair of figures came out from behind it, covered in his invisibility cloak. He could see Ron and Hermione so clearly that he wondered if the invisibility cloak his father had left him was losing it´s potency.

"Harry, what was that?" Ron asked cautiously as both he and Hermione threw the cloak from their shoulders. They were much too big now for two of them to huddle under it, but it seemed that none of them had realized that before now.

"Dumbledore, I think," he replied, still dumbfounded by the encounter. "We´re all in danger now, more than before. Wait, I thought you left."

"Those were golems," Hermione said briefly. "What are we going to do about this? No one will expect Dumbledore to attack, and no one will believe us if we tell them."

"I´m not going to let this happen," Harry said firmly. "I can´t let this happen."

His friends both saw the resolve in his hardened eyes and there they made an unspoken pact to ensure that Wizarding World would never fall. Together they made their way out of the Hospital Wing and down to Moaning Myrtle´s bathroom. She was the last to have seen them as they entered the Chamber of Secrets once more.

Amongst the celebrations of Voldemort´s defeat and the fact that they had now recovered the body of the Dark Lord to prove this, everyone was too engulfed in celebrations to notice that Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had vanished.

Not long after, as the students got on the Hogwarts Express to return home and pursue their own lives, that the new Dark Lord made his arrival. The train was attacked and very few survivors remained. The name of Dumbledore, which had once brought hope to peoples hearts, now struck fear into their very cores. He was worse than Voldemort and far more ruthless, and the Ministry of Magic had never gone through more Ministers of Magic than now.

Throughout the countryside, however, there were four vigilantes that were fighting him and gaining more ground than the entire ministry; an old man with a beard so long and white that it seemed as though it were a waterfall of ice, a young man with endless resourcefulness, a woman with striking beauty and brilliance, and a one who was clearly most powerful of them all that hid his face behind his cowl so that no one´s eyes could flash up to recognize the scar.