The First Prophet Article

Author's Note:

I know in my last posting I indicated that the article would be concluded next, but I have had to break the conclusion up into two chapters because of the unexpected ridiculous length of this thing. The final conclusion will be posted soon.

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And the conclusion begins...

Thus we come back to my personal recollections of the evening, Dear Reader, as we wind down this onerously long article. Thanks to my trusty memory devices, I think we will find that what remains herein is quite reliable and true to events.

First, I must tell you that I had been sitting in my little nook in the garden and, as I previously related, I was engaged in a very thorough teenage session of moping. Before the appearance of Ron and Hermione, my dark thoughts had turned to the losses suffered throughout the previous year. The most egregious of these losses was the death of my great friend, protector and mentor, Albus Dumbledore. The depth of that loss and its effect on the War has been thoroughly studied by other sources, and I will not reiterate the theories of those much cleverer than me.

I will, however, tell you something that may surprise you. That night, I was soon to realize that Dumbledore had fulfilled his goals for the war.

See, as I sat in the garden my thoughts revolved around my beautiful Ginevre Weasley. I sat there and I knew that I was in love with her. I sat there and I knew that I could not lose her the way I had lost so many others in my life that I loved, like Dumbledore. In truth, I was nearly petrified at the thought of losing Ron and Hermione, and I was convinced that one, or perhaps all, of our Trio would not come back from what lay ahead. Ron, Hermione and I were soon to depart on the well-documented Horcrux hunt, and I feared for them. But I also knew I could as easily remove my right and left arm as I could get through what was to come without my two best friends.

I was also sitting in the nook and thinking, repeatedly, that I could not leave Ginny without letting her know how I felt about her. I was also trying to figure out how I could tell her without inspiring her to follow us on the hunt. I had no doubt that once I let her know that I was in love with her that she would move heaven and earth to help me in my upcoming struggle. I sat in the nook and repeatedly shook my head. I could not risk her. I simply could not.

In short, I was frozen with indecision. I had nobody to turn to for advice, so my thoughts went to the man from whom I could always expect words of wisdom and comfort. At that moment, I thought of my beloved headmaster.

I could see his wizened face, and the small knowing smile that was always just about to curl his lip. I could see his piercing blue eyes and the power that he exuded. I could almost hear his merry voice whispering through the trees in the garden. I could nearly smell the scent of chocolate frogs and acid pops that always wafted around him. I sat and I imagined myself in the presence of Dumbledore.

I don't know if you do something that I often do. Sometimes I will be sitting and be particularly thoughtful about one thing or another. If there is a person involved in that thing, whether that thing is a historic event, or an event from my memory, or an anticipated meeting, I will often imagine the conversation that should have or would pass, as the case may be. It is a silly thing, I know, and often the conversation will be fanciful or ridiculous or have no connection to things as they might be. But sometimes...just sometimes...that imagined conversation may give you a perspective or a comfort that you would not find otherwise. Thus, as I sat in the nook, at about the same time that Ron began his tirade on the dance floor, I began an imaginary conversation with that wise old man.

"Harry," said the imagined headmaster, "what is the matter, My Boy."

"Nothing, Sir," I lied, looking surprised to see Dumbledore appear from the mists of my mind.

"Oh don't be so surprised to see me, Harry. I am only a bit of your imagination, and I am always here at your beck and call." The Professor smiled his knowing smile.

"Uh...okay, Sir."

"Well that is good that nothing is the matter, and quite unusual given what lies ahead for you. I dare say that you must be the bravest young man in the history of history, given that nothing is the matter at such a time." The imagined Dumbledore still wore that amused and knowing look.

"Well," I answered peevishly, "I have to be, don't I?"

"You do have to be brave, Harry, I do not doubt that," replied Dumbledore seriously. "But you do not have to be not human."

"I'm not sure I understand, Professor," I replied.

"Oh I think you must understand, Harry, for I am simply a figment of your imagination at present. Therefore by me saying that you have the right to be human, it is really you saying to yourself that you have the right to be human. Nevertheless I will explain. By that, Harry, I mean that it is entirely proper and human to have doubts and be conflicted in a situation such as yours, and to seek someone to help you with such feelings."

"Well, Professor, don't I have to be more than human to defeat Voldemort? Isn't he more than human?" I replied angrily.

"Ahhh, there it is, Harry. That is the crux of your battle to come, isn't it?" said Dumbledore, holding his arms out expansively and smiling as if I had just unburied a secret treasure.

"Uh...what are you talking about?" I said with a flippant attitude that I never would have managed had the real Dumbledore been sitting in front of me.

"Please address me as 'Sir' or 'Professor,' Harry. My untimely demise, and my existence merely within your imagination is not, I think, a reason to disregard appropriate formality," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

I looked abashed. "Sorry, Sir, it's just that I am not sure that I understand what you mean."

"What I mean, Harry, is that the battle to come is one of humanity versus inhumanity, is it not?"

I looked at him blankly.

"Well, I see we shall have to review a few things. You said that Voldemort is 'more' than human. What is your basis for saying that?"

"He's immortal, Sir," I said with a nod.

"Is he immortal, Harry, or has he set up complex, but certainly earthly, safeguards to prolong his life?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"Oh, I think you must, Harry, since you are simply talking to yourself right now." He looked at me with those piercing blue eyes.

"Well, I guess he has simply found a way to prolong his life. But it is the same isn't it?" I said with a frown.

"Correct, Harry, it could be the same. If nobody destroys those means by which he prolonged his life, then it will, in a practical sense, be the same. But if you destroy those Horcruxes, is he more than human?" Dumbledore was in his finest teaching form at this moment.

"Well, he is still very powerful," I said uncertainly.

"As was I, Harry. I dare say, at the risk of sounding immodest, that I was at least a match for Voldemort in terms of raw power. Unfortunately, as my presence in your imagination attests, and as the presence of my body buried in the grounds of Hogwarts suggests, mere power does not raise one to superhuman status."

"I see, Sir," I said, thinking sadly of my beloved headmasters entombed remains.

"Ahh, don't be sad, Harry. Only my body is buried there, Dear Boy. As our current conversation shows, I still go on in one form or another." He looked at me with that kindly comforting look. "But back to our important discussion. Thus, power does not make him more than human, and the Horcruxes, if destroyed, show that he is no more than human. So what does that leave us?"

"He is just a human," I said looking at Dumbledore questioningly. A pause ensued wherein the headmaster simply watched me with his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. He was waiting for something.

"No," I continued quietly, "he is less than human, isn't he? He gave away pieces of his soul, and made himself less than human." Upon saying it, I knew it was true.

"Go on."

I looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, Voldemort stripped away his humanity, piece by piece, with each murder that built a Horcrux. In doing so he took away his ability to feel all of those things that humans can feel. Absorbed in his own power and sense of superiority, he cannot see how such things can defeat him, like with my mother. In order to defeat Voldemort, therefore, I must be that which he can never be again. I must be more human than he can ever be. Is that right, Sir?"

"Exactly, Harry. But more to the point, what is the defining characteristic of your humanity? What can you do that Voldemort cannot?" asked the headmaster looking thoroughly pleased.

"I don't know if there is anything that I can do that Voldemort cannot, Sir," I said, but I already knew that was not true. I just feared the conclusion that I would reach by acknowledging it.

"I don't think you believe that, Harry." The headmaster's pleased look wavered for a moment. "Let me ask it a different way. What was it that saved your life, and exiled the Dark Lord for ten years?"

"My mother," I said, but I already knew where Dumbledore was going. "My mother's love!" I admitted.

"Go on," said Dumbledore, continuing to watch me.

"Love is a truly human characteristic. It is something only humans can do," I said; or perhaps it was Dumbledore, as his words and mine seemed to blend together in my imaginings.

"And love, as your mother showed, has great power," continued Dumbledore (or was it me?). He was smiling and nodding now.

"And it is a power that Voldemort cannot have, can he? He forsook it when he constructed the Horcruxes," I or Dumbledore said.

Dumbledore looked at me expectantly; or perhaps, I merely felt the anticipation of my own realization.

"It is the power the Dark Lord knows not!" we said together.

Dumbledore looked at me. I could tell he was very pleased with me, and with himself. His bright eyes shone with restrained emotion and, perhaps, tears. "Dear Boy, you show me that I have not been a complete failure as your teacher. I must say that it brings me great pleasure to see that our six years together were fruitful, and I believe that I can rest easily knowing that I have left the future of the World in such young, but capable hands."

"Professor, I don't know if I can do this alone, Sir. I'm...afraid," I said shakily, realizing Dumbledore's departure was drawing near.

"Fear is another side of humanity, Harry," said Dumbledore simply, looking at me with sympathy, but with confidence. "You must take the good with the bad, I fear. But you are not alone. You have your friends...your very capable friends. In fact, I think that I may hear them coming, now. I believe they are engaging in their favorite indoor sport at the moment."

At this point, the sound of Ron and Hermione entering the garden came to my awareness, and the image of my beloved headmaster began to fade from my imagination. I rolled my eyes in frustration.

"I will leave you with a last thought, Harry," said Dumbledore hurriedly. "Remember that the things you realized tonight are within you. This is merely your conversation with yourself. My work is done, and the rest is up to you. And remember your humanity, and the power you need to defeat Voldemort. Therein, I think, lays the answer to your inner turmoil this night, and the answer to the question that drove you into this garden to mope." The ghost of Dumbledore winked at me through my mind's eye.

I looked at him sadly as he faded. "Professor, I wish you didn't have to go."

"I am sorry, Dear Boy," he reached forward to pat my shoulder in a comforting way. "But remember I am just a figment of your imagination. I was never really here...was I?" He winked at me again, and the wind took his merry laugh through the trees, and he was gone.

I reached up to touch my shoulder and felt the wind rustle my cloak where my headmaster had patted my shoulder.

Then Hermione and Ron appeared in the entrance to my nook.

To be finally concluded...