Harry Potter and the Guardian of Lost Souls

Chapter 9:

Harry took a deep breath and opened the door. The circular room inside was lit by a few lamps hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the faces of the past headmasters, all of them snoring gently in their frames. At the large desk sat Albus Dumbledore, his blue eyes glittering in the lamplight. He was smiling, which caused Harry to sigh inwardly with relief. Well, at least he didn't seem to be in any sort of trouble.

"Harry," Dumbledore greeted him warmly and gestured to a chair, "please, sit down." Harry sat down in one of the comfortable emerald chairs across from the Headmaster. He fidgeted nervously.

"You must be wondering why I've asked you here. I hope Professor McGonagall didn't alarm you. Don't worry, you haven't done anything wrong. I simply wanted to discuss your summer." He smiled. "I believe you finally met Miss Figg?"

Harry nodded, grinning. "Yes, she took me to Sirius' house to spend the summer. Professor, why didn't I ever know about her? I know it was dangerous when I was younger, but after I learned I was wizard... Why didn't anyone tell me she was there the entire time?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, as though wondering whether he should tell Harry or not. Then he smiled as he came to a decision and spoke. "Well, you see, had you known about her, it would have drawn attention to Miss Figg. You would probably have visited her more over the summer. I'm sure it would have raised your, ah, family's suspicions had you spent so much time with someone who apparently seemed to be a mad old woman." Dumbledore's mustache twitched. "It was for both your protection."

Harry nodded. That made sense, but something bothered him. "But, if that's true, then why did you let me find out about her this year?"

"Ah," Dumbledore said slyly, "you see, Sirius and I have no intention of allowing you to go back to the Dursleys next summer."

At first Harry didn't understand, the shock didn't let him. Then slowly, he felt an indescribable bubble of happiness well up inside of him as his face split into an irrepressible grin. "You mean it?!" he exclaimed in excitement.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. As I said, your godfather and I discussed it, and Remus agrees. We think you'd be much better off either staying with the Weasley family over the summer or with members of the Order. I've already written to Mr. And Mrs. Weasley and they were thrilled to accept. Special shields will be placed on their house for your protection by aurors. It will take a while, which was why I wanted to have your consent now. We would like the shields to be in place by Christmas." Dumbledore smiled.

Harry couldn't believe it. He'd never have to go back to the Dursleys again. Ever! "Of course I agree! I--this is--I mean, wow!" Dumbledore chuckled.

"Yes, 'wow' would quite sum it up."

"Professor, you don't know what this means to me," Harry said gratefully, still unable to believe his luck.

A flicker of sadness passed over Dumbledore's face. "I'm only sorry we didn't do this sooner. The idea at the beginning was to keep you away from the wizarding world until you were ready for it. Growing up in a world where everyone knew your name before you could even walk or talk. The past few years, however, we were simply looking for a suitable replacement and after the events of last year..." Dumbledore shook his head. "You need to be with people who love you, Harry."

Harry swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. Despite the Dursley's cruelty, he had a lot to thank Dumbledore for. He was right, Harry would have gone mad if he'd had to grow up in the wizarding world. Or worse, it might have all just gone to his head. He might have even ended up like Gilderoy Lockhart....

"Thank you, Professor," he said smiling. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but Harry couldn't fail to notice how tired he looked under his kindly gaze.

"You're welcome Harry. If you ever need to talk I'm here. Now, how was your summer?"

So Harry told him everything, from the time he'd been sent over to Arabella's until he'd received the letter informing him that Ginny was in the hospital. Dumbledore listened with great interest the entire time, stopping Harry several times to ask him about one thing or another. Harry told him about Godrics Hollow, but not about the memory he'd had. He was still saving that.

When he got to the part about the hospital, Harry fell silent. Dumbledore understood and told Harry that he could continue onto the rest of his summer. Harry smiled gratefully and finished telling him all about his time with the Weasleys and Ginny's recovery. He didn't mention her current condition.

Dumbledore smiled when Harry was done. "It sounds as though all in all, you had a wonderful summer." Harry nodded. "Very well, I'm pleased to hear it. If there's nothing else you wish to tell me, you can go back to your dormitory. I'm sure you're quite tired after that marvelous feast. I must remember to go down to the kitchens one of these days and compliment the house-elves."

Harry stood up to leave, thanking Dumbledore again profusely. He was nearly out the door when he remembered something. "Er, Professor?" he called stopping and turning around. Dumbledore looked up from his desk with a rather vague look.

"Hm?"

"There is one other thing I wanted to ask you."

"Of course, Harry. As I said before, feel free to come ask me anything, anytime. I will always answer as truthfully as I can." Dumbledore twinkled at him.

Harry nodded, encouraged. "Professor, I've been having..." Harry faltered, not knowing quite how to explain his predicament. Dumbledore's face was kind, urging him on. Harry smiled slightly. "I've been having strange dreams."

Dumbledore's expression was unreadable. Harry fidgeted.

"What type of dreams exactly?" he asked, his eyes flickering momentarily to Harry's scar.

"No," Harry said firmly, "for once, nothing to do with Voldemort. At least, I don't think so..." It was fully possible that Harry's recent dreams were connected, though he wasn't sure exactly how.

"I see," said Dumbledore, "what then, was so strange about these particular dreams?"

Harry stepped forward and sat down once again, looking across the desk at his mentor. He could still get out of this, he didn't have to continue, but something inside him made him sit still. He needed to know.

"The first one was the strangest. I had it one night while Ginny was..." Harry trailed off. That time wasn't one of his favorite memories.

"I understand," Dumbledore said simply.

Harry smiled gratefully and continued. "I was in the Chamber of Secrets," he said, swallowing uneasily, "and I knew that there was someone else there, though I couldn't see him. He was walking towards me and when he stopped he spoke to me." Harry gave an involuntary shudder before continuing. "He said he'd been sought out by someone, he didn't say who, but he said that he hadn't agreed to serve that wizard because he had sensed me." Harry closed his eyes. That venomous voice still rang clear in his mind.

"I felt you when he came to me, begging my allegiance. I gave not to him what another, stronger maybe, could possess. And the Darkness is great in you as well."

"Harry?" Dumbledore interrupted Harry's thoughts. He was looking at him calmly and Harry took strength from those sparkling blue eyes.

"He sounded evil and when I told him to leave me alone. He said that he wasn't someone I would want as an enemy. His voice..." Harry paused. Pure venom and power. "He was so powerful, his voice nearly threw me off my feet. I still told him to go away but he just laughed. And then," Harry stumbled a moment, not knowing how to put into words what had happened next and afraid of what Dumbledore would think. "He said that the Darkness was great in me and the worst of it was," he swallowed and continued in a whisper, "I knew he was right." Harry looked down at his shoes in embarrassment. However when several moments had passed and Dumbledore still hadn't said anything, he raised his head to find the Headmaster gazing at him no differently than he had before.

"Harry, you were right to believe him, what he said was true." Harry felt his stomach sink. "However," Dumbledore continued, "It is also true for every living being in this world. Understand, Harry, everyone has a capacity for darkness, and the greater a wizard's initial power the more darkness he will hold inside. Even I," he chuckled suddenly. "What do you think would happen if I were to suddenly decide that I wished to serve the Dark?"

Harry stared at his Headmaster. If he were to serve the Dark? Harry swallowed nervously. They would all be lost, every last one of them. Dumbledore was in such a position that if he were to betray them, there would be no way to escape what would follow. Harry had never thought before about how much their safety, their chances of survival, depended on one person.

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, yes." He sighed. "Do you see, Harry? I could if I wanted to, I am fully capable of it, as are you. So, yes, the Darkness is great in us."

Harry had never thought about it that way. It gave him some comfort but did nothing to boost his sense of safety....

He sat a few moments in silence, pondering. Could he do it? Could he do that to the people he loved? Ron, Hermione, Sirius? Ginny. He felt something stir within him and he knew, with sudden certainty that he could. The point was that he wouldn't. That thought gave him so much comfort that it came as a shock. He hadn't realized the past weeks how much his dream had been weighing down on him.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, sighing.

"Anytime, Harry," Dumbledore twinkled at him. "Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

Harry thought for a moment and then suddenly recalled the one thing that had confused him the most in his dream.

"Actually, Professor, there was. That voice, he called me something, but I didn't really understand what he meant by it."

"Oh?" asked Dumbledore, politely curious.

"Yes. He called me... what was it?" Harry furrowed his brow, trying to remember. "Oh, yeah," he said finally, "He called me 'One of Power'."

Dumbledore sat up straight in his chair, eyes wide in shock. That in itself made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. Dumbledore was never surprised, or if he was then he hid it well. Harry hadn't been expecting this reaction. He watched with a sense of foreboding as Dumbledore stood up and paced back and forth in agitation.

"Professor?" Harry queried.

Dumbledore seemed not to hear him. The wizened old wizard stopped in front of the window in his circular office.

"Professor?" Harry asked again, quietly.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked, his back to Harry.

Harry nodded, and then realized Dumbledore couldn't see him. "Yes," he answered. "I'm positive. I've been dreaming those words ever since. These voices... it's like they're calling me."

Harry heard Dumbledore sigh and it seemed his shoulders stooped suddenly with a heavy burden. He turned around and Harry noticed how tired he looked. He didn't look powerful or brilliant or wise... he just looked like a tired old man that had gone through more than he'd ever wanted in life.

Dumbledore gazed at Harry. "It can't be. I simply don't see how..." He walked back over to his desk and sat down in his chair.

Harry was still completely in the dark. He had no idea what was going on and on top of it all, Dumbledore's reaction was frightening him.

"Harry, I had no idea. If I'd known then things would have been very different today. I--you--" Dumbledore struggled to find words, another fact that startled Harry deeply.

"Professor, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Could you please explain why this is such a big deal?" Harry asked in frustration.

Dumbledore stared long and hard at Harry, sizing him up. "Well, I suppose I have to. You can't walk around not knowing. It would be dangerous."

Now Harry was really alarmed. Dangerous? How?

Dumbledore continued. "I don't even know how to begin. There hasn't been One of Power born for at least nine hundred years." Harry looked at Dumbledore expectantly. "Well, I suppose I should begin at the beginning, hm?" He tried to smile but seemed too shaken. He took a deep breath and began.

"You see, in the beginning of time, when magic was born, the bearers were so powerful that they were feared beyond belief. They held so much magic in their blood that they lived for thousands of years. But those were only the first wizards and witches. Four of them. Morgana, Paracelsus, Cliodne and Merlin. They were named the Great Ones. Merlin, as you well know, is the most famous wizard of all time and I'm sure you've learned about him in your classes. Paracelsus was a genius in alchemy. I dare say he discovered it, however his greed became so great that he was corrupted and people lived in fear of him for hundreds of years. Cliodne was a druidess and found great use for her powers in healing. And Morgana, well, Morgana is known as the most evil sorceress the world has ever known. The things she did with her power were unthinkable.

"Now, they were the only ones with such power. Their descendants had magic but not nearly as much power as those before them.. And of course, most of the magical population was Muggle born.

"It was over the period of many years that people began to see a pattern among the descendants of the Great Ones. Once every so often, one would be born with abilities far beyond those of a normal wizard. Not all of the descendants had these capabilities, actually, only a small percentage did and many of them couldn't control their power and there were few that could teach them to do so. It was for this reason that the descendants of the Great Ones slowly died out."

There was a funny feeling growing in Harry's gut, one he didn't like at all. He was afraid of what would come next...

Dumbledore took a deep breath.

"Those wizards were called Ones of Power."

The silence in the room held an ominous note as Dumbledore watched Harry. Harry sat staring at the floor, his mind working furiously at trying to comprehend what he had just been told.

"So," he said in a quiet voice, "I had a dream and now you think I'm descended from Merlin or one of those other ones. No." He shook his head. "No, I won't have it. It was just a dream." He looked up at Dumbledore, fire raging in his eyes. "It doesn't prove anything."

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, I need to ask you. Have you managed-- have you done magic without your wand?"

The fire abruptly went out to be replaced with unease. "What does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked stubbornly.

"So you have, then." It wasn't a question.

"It still doesn't mean anything," Harry retorted. This was the last thing he needed. Another thing he'd be famous for, another thing that would put him in danger!

"Harry," Dumbledore explained gently, "wandless magic is common among younger wizards up until they reach adolescence. Once they reach a certain age, that ability disappears. Grown wizards haven't performed wandless magic for nine-hundred years. Not since the last One of Power."

Harry glared at the floor, suddenly all too aware of how his voice had deepened and how tall he'd grown over the past year or so. The last time he'd preformed wandless magic before this summer had been when he'd blown up his Aunt Marge in the summer before his third year.

"The first time was in St. Mungo's. I don't know how, but I blew up a vase without meaning to." He wasn't going to go into the events leading up to that, though. "The second time was today, on the train. Malfoy..." Harry blushed, aware that he might get in trouble for what he was going to say, "Malfoy was, er, bothering us. I told him to leave and he didn't listen and then the window in the door shattered. I knew I'd done it, I just wasn't sure how. I thought it could have been because I was so angry but after what you said..." Harry paused, shock slowly registering itself in his brain. "Nine hundred years..." he muttered in awe.

Dumbledore didn't say anything about the incident on the train. He looked rather worried. "Harry, Ones of Power had outstanding magical abilities. Don't forget, many of them died because they couldn't control them."

Harry swallowed. "But, Professor, if it's true, if I really am and if there hasn't been one for nine hundred years, then there isn't anyone that would know how to help me," Harry was panicking, "There's no one that'll know how to control it!"

"Harry, calm down," Dumbledore said quietly, smiling softly. "Wizards saw this situation thousands of years ago. They had the foresight to record the knowledge and information connected to Ones of Power in a few secret books that very few know of."

Harry looked up sharply at Dumbledore. "Then how do you know about them?" he asked warily.

Dumbledore sighed. "I am the keeper of one of the most ancient tomes. It has been passed down in my family throughout the years, entrusted to our care. Before my father, Aldaren Dumbledore, passed away, he told me of the book, its uses and where it was hidden. He made me promise to keep it safe just in case One of Power should arise again and to pass it on to my son after me. I have no children, Harry," Dumbledore said, a pained look in his crystal blue eyes, "the book will be passed on to you."

Harry gazed at Dumbledore, his eyes pleading. "Please," he said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, "I'm not, I can't be. I can't do this. Professor," Harry said, looking for any thread of hope he could cling to, "it's been nine hundred years. The Ones of Power probably all died out. I--please?"

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid there are signs, my boy. The wandless magic would be proof enough to even the most critical and disbelieving. But the dream, Harry. You've forgotten the dream. You'd never heard of Ones of Power before, had you? Barely anyone today knows that they ever existed. Dreams are subconscious thoughts that surface while you sleep. If you'd never heard of Ones of Power, how could you dream someone called you one? The dream was a vision, Harry, a vision."

Harry swallowed. He'd had several visions before, but they'd always been caused by his link to Voldemort through his scar.

Dumbledore continued. "The other dreams you mentioned, the ones following the vision, you said the voices were calling you. The vision somehow triggered your magic and now, you can't escape it, no matter what you do. The only way is to learn to control it."

"And if I don't want to?" Harry asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Dumbledore sighed. "In the beginning, you'll barely feel it's there. The magic will heighten a few of your abilities, sharpen your skills. Then it will get worse. Anything you're feeling will be expressed in your magic. If you're afraid, you will shield yourself or somehow manage to banish the object of your fear. If you're excited, you might begin levitating objects without realizing it, or worse, and if you're angry..." Dumbledore trailed off.

"I might really hurt someone," Harry said quietly. Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes. A good example would be the incident on the train, when you shattered a window. Now, magnify that tenfold. That's what could happen if you don't learn to control it. Then, eventually, magic will radiate from you non-stop. You won't be able to keep it inside. And it won't only hurt others, it will hurt you as well." Dumbledore paused and cleared his throat uneasily. "Ones of Power that didn't learn control often went mad before the end."

Harry's eyes widened in fear and he sank back into his chair, shivering. He swallowed nervously, his eyes flickering to the clock on the table in front of him.

"How long do I have?" he asked in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Dumbledore looked away from Harry, taking a deep breath. "Three, four months, perhaps."

Harry closed his eyes and shakily raked a hand through his hair. "Three months..." he muttered leaning forward, head in his hands, and balancing his elbows on the desk. He couldn't believe this was happening. It wasn't enough that he was the Boy Who Lived. It wasn't enough that Voldemort wanted him dead, or that he'd never be able to have a normal life. No. Six months. He had six months. Harry thought about Ron, Hermione and the Weasleys. What would they think of this? What would Ginny think? She needed him right now. He was the only one who knew what a hard time she was having. He needed to be there for her.

Harry lifted his head taking a deep breath. "Can you teach me? You said you were the keeper of that book, you studied it, right?"

Dumbledore nodded. "That's the reason it was given to me, to teach, Harry. I have been teaching my entire lifetime. Besides, I don't believe we have much of a choice. If I don't help you, the consequences could affect not only you and those who love you, but the whole world as well. These are hard times. Voldemort has returned to power and has already begun his assault on the wizarding world. Harry, you are One of Power," Dumbledore's eyes suddenly sparkled to life with hope, "if you were taught correctly how to use your gift you would be invaluable to the opposition, you--" Dumbledore stopped abruptly at the look on Harry's face.

Harry was furious. From the time he'd been born he'd sacrificed everything to stop Voldemort. His parents were dead, he'd grown up as no child ever should, among people who hated and despised him. He'd been thrown into an unfamiliar world without any knowledge of his past. Every year he'd faced terrible danger and had on countless occasions nearly been killed. Last year, he'd had to watch as Cedric Diggory had been murdered before his eyes and this summer had been the last straw. He'd nearly lost Ginny before he'd even had a chance to get to know her, something that he was coming to see would have been a very great loss.

"I'm not learning this for the opposition," he said, his voice determined and surprisingly steady despite his anger. "I won't be used anymore. I didn't ask for any of this, I never have, yet someone seems to think it'd be funny to see how much I can take before I explode. Well," Harry gave a dry, humorless laugh, "maybe I'll just blow myself up and be done with it!" His voice was slowly rising with his anger. "From what you've told me, all I have to do is wait a bit and I'll have no trouble! People will finally leave me alone! No more Voldemort, no more war, no more killing and no more famous Harry Potter!"

There was a loud cracking noise behind Harry as he felt a surge of power. He turned around to find a large floor-to-ceiling mirror with a split right down the middle. Harry's mouth dropped open, his anger leaving him in an instant to be replaced with blind panic. It was true, it was all true.

"I--I'm sorry," he whispered shakily, turning back around. Dumbledore was still looking at the mirror. There was wonder in his eyes.

Harry was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He'd had a tiring day and now this. It had left him completely drained and he suddenly found that all he wanted was his nice warm four-poster in the fifth year boys' dormitories. He wished there was a way to just put everything on hold until he felt like he could deal with it. But there wasn't.

"Professor, I can't do this. It's too hard, please..." he said, as though Dumbledore could somehow make it go away.

Dumbledore looked back at Harry, sympathy in his eyes. "I know, Harry, but that doesn't change anything. I'm sorry. I will try my best to teach you the little I know and hopefully, it will suffice. If not," Dumbledore gazed back at the mirror. Harry knew what he was thinking.

Harry got up to leave. He didn't see any reason to stay anymore.

"Harry, one last thing," Dumbledore stopped him right before he reached the door. "About your dream. There still remains the matter of who approached you in that vision. Do you have any idea? Did you recognize the voice at all?" Harry shook his head, too tired to even answer. Dumbledore sighed. "Very well. Go get some sleep Harry. I will send McGonagall to call you when I'm ready to begin your lessons. Don't worry," he stopped Harry, just as he was going to interrupt. "I won't tell her the nature of our conversation this evening."

Harry smiled feebly and left, stepping onto the rotating staircase and gliding until he reached the bottom. His mind was awhirl with hundreds of thoughts all at once. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He didn't want to believe. Harry was so caught up in the events that he wandered through the corridors without paying much attention to where he was going, but before he knew it, he'd reached Gryffindor Tower and the portrait of the Fat Lady. It was then that Harry realized he didn't know the password. He sighed as he slumped down against the wall next to the painting. Harry briefly recalled the countless times Neville had been trapped outside in much the same manner. He found he didn't care. At least like this he wouldn't have to face his friend's prying questions, wouldn't have to lie to them. At least not for tonight.

Harry felt as though he'd just had to get past three Hungarian Horntails and his brain was so muddled, he couldn't think any more. He was just drifting off on the floor when he heard the portrait swing open.

"Harry?" Ginny whispered, her voice full of concern. With effort, Harry raised his head and looked at her, trying to get his vision to focus. She seemed a bit blurry to him.

"Gin?"

Footsteps... a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, what happened? You look like, well, never mind, but, what are you doing out here?" She helped him get to his feet and he found he needed her support more than he would have expected.

"Don't know the password," he mumbled. Ginny helped him get though the portrait hole and into the empty common room where she sat him down firmly on a sofa in front of the dying fire.

"It's Squag-Pickle. Wait here," she said quietly, "I'll go get Hermione."

"No," Harry panicked, clutching at her hand. "Please, don't call anyone. I'm fine, really."

Ginny looked him up and down appraisingly, much the same way her mother might if she thought he was ill but then sighed and sat down next to him.

"Do you want to tell me what Dumbledore wanted?" she asked gently.

Harry gazed into the fire, the warmth of the common room making him sleepier than before. "He wanted to know how my summer went."

"That's all?" Ginny asked incredulously.

Harry shook his head. "No, but I don't want to talk about it." He sighed. "I just want to go to sleep. I'm really tired, it's been a long day."

Concern flitted across Ginny's face but she nodded. "Do you want help? You look like you might collapse any moment."

Harry gave her a half-smile. "No, I'll manage. Were you waiting for me this whole time?"

Ginny blushed. "Yes. Ron, Hermione and I thought someone should wait for you. Ron was going to, but I asked him to let me."

"Why?"

Ginny's blush deepened as she answered. "I don't know. I suppose I thought you might need someone when you got back, and after today on the train, I wanted to thank you for understanding." She said, as she picked at a loose thread in her dressing gown.

Harry nodded. "I appreciate it, Ginny. Thanks. I wouldn't have been able to deal with Ron or Hermione's questions right now. Thanks for not pushing." He slowly got to his feet, steadying himself on the back of the couch. He headed for the stairs leading to his dorm. Ginny walked next to him until he reached them and then turned to go. Harry caught her arm gently before she went.

"Goodnight, Ginny," he said softly.

Ginny smiled, her eyes dancing in the firelight, making Harry's stomach twist.

"Goodnight, Harry."

He started climbing the steps when-

"Harry?"

He turned around. Ginny was looking up at him, but her expression was unreadable.

"Whatever it is, things are never as bad as they seem." With that, Ginny turned back and headed towards the girls' rooms.

Harry climbed the rest of the stairs until reaching the room at the top. He didn't even change out of his clothes before he climbed into bed and fell asleep, completely exhausted.