The Legacy of Great Men

The Legacy of Great Men

I called him into my office again. I sent Professor McGonagall to fetch him, and waited, eyes on my pensive, mind wandering. Every time I send for him, I give a little more of it away. I give him a little more of what by all rights should have been his at the beginning. At the very beginning. But I've been holding it, giving pieces of it miserly, sparingly, like its some great secret. And I am the Secret Keeper.

It will be better now. Better, but certainly not easier. The things I have to tell that boy are not to be taken lightly. Some of it he already knows. Some he suspects. Some of it has never crossed his mind, not even in his dreams. Or should I say, nightmares.

I have made sure that he was sheltered. For years he was out of the public eye, out of the way, out of trouble. Soon, however, he will not even be safe with his mother's family. The magic that surrounds him there is strong, but there is a stronger magic even still. One that even I cannot match now. It is growing. It is strong. And it will attack.

Yes, I have information that will make his head whirl, jump to the heavens, and then coming crashing back down. Some of it I knew from the start, but he has shown me even more. Since his first year of Hogwarts, I have read the signs. They point to only one thing, I am afraid. I am no seer, but the signals are too evident for even me to ignore.

The first time he was in my office, he brought the sword. The Sword of Gryffindore. I told him that only a true Gryffindore could get the sword from Gryffindore's hat. What I didn't tell him was that only Gryffindore himself could get the sword, or even know that it was there. Only Godric Gryffindore. Or rather, his heir.

It all goes back to the very founding of this school to which I am Headmaster. Deep magic. Deep, deep magic from the dawns of Hogwarts, and before. The Founders are hailed as wonderfully powerful and wise. They were all of that, and more. The Founders had the foresight to protect a school, an ideal that all wizards could come together to study in peace. Their foresight, unfortunately, cost many people many things, took away a little boy's parents, and almost cost him his life.

Oh, it has killed many people, this legendary foresight of the Founders. They shaped and built the school. They were great. And a some of them, namely two, were far too great. Their greatness would spill over into the rest of the world, bringing chaos, and leaving the dead in its wake.

Even great men disagree. Those that are particularly great set up ways for their successors the carry on their disagreements. Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindore were men without parallel, and their rivalry is mirrored perfectly in the rivalry of the houses that hold their names. But, they did not stop there. Both Slytherin and Gryffindore left heirs, their families hidden and forgotten until this moment. This very moment.

The conflict between Gryffindore and Slytherin has never been resolved. It has grown throughout the ages, because there have never been two wizards great enough to stand for the two sides, to battle, one on one, for the fate of the masses. That is, until now. That is what I have been hiding. That is what I must now tell a boy of fifteen, a boy too young for any of this, but one who has grown old before his time and will be able to handle it. I must tell Harry Potter that he is the heir of Gryffindore, the young sacrificial lamb on Slytherin's altar.

Slytherin's heir has been apparent for years. Self-proclaimed, Voldemort's reign of terror would have pleased Salazar, had he been living after all these hundreds of years. Weeding out those thought to be unworthy always had been on Slytherin's to do list. It was simply not brought to actualization in his time. If I have anything to do about it, it will never come to pass. But, alas, I do not have much say in the matter anymore, and my power is not as great as some. My students will soon outstrip me, if they have not already.

All rests on The Boy That Lived. The boy that must live if any of us are going to. It will come down to a single battle, a fight to the death that will decide all. It will be soon. It will be brutal. And in the end, I fear for who will be dead.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, sit down, Harry. I need to talk to you."