Decreta Conciliorum Non Ligant Reges Nostros

Chapter 2

I'm here, with my confession

Got nothing to hide no more

I don't know where to start

But to show you the shape of my heart...

- Backstreet Boys, Black and Blue

A desperate voice calling, "Harry! Harry! Where are you?" urgently caused him to look up. He blinked owlishly as he looked up into the anxious face of Albus Dumbledore. As he turned away from the old wizard, he realised with a start that he was back in his room at Privet Drive. Was he still dreaming? Well, it had been so amazingly real...at least he knew now how to deal with Bellatrix and Kreacher when he faced them.

"Hello, Headmaster," said Harry pleasantly, "I wasn't expecting you."

"Harry? Are you all right? Where were you?" Dumbledore looked anxious and worried. Almost afraid...Harry wondered what had shaken the old wizard so badly...after all; he'd just taken a nap and had a very satisfying dream...

"Me? I'm fine, sir. I must have fallen asleep...I didn't hear you come in."

Dumbledore threw him a strange look.

"You were not here when I came in, Harry. Your room was empty. It was only when I called for you that you appeared out of thin air..."

"What? But that's not possible...I was sleeping...I was dreaming..."

Dumbledore shook his head and gave him a concerned look. He said nothing as he sat down next to Harry and sighed deeply.

Harry, to say the least, was shocked to the core. He had never imagined Dumbledore coming to meet him in Privet Drive. What was up with the old man? He hardly ever did anything without a purpose...was this some new plan of his, some new way to manipulate him again? Harry felt slightly angry at that. He didn't want to be manipulated anymore. As it was, he was under a prophecy - the worst thing that could happen to a wizard...and involved with none other than the Dark Lord...

But going back to Dumbledore, Harry felt sure that there must be a purpose of this visit.

"Why are you here, Sir?" Harry asked, unable to keep a certain amount of coldness from his voice.

Dumbledore winced at the cold dislike in his voice. Then his face grew hard. Very hard. He looked the powerful Headmaster he was - his eyes had hardened, and the benign twinkle had vanished - coming to think of it, Harry hadn't noticed the twinkle since he'd seen the Headmaster a few minutes back...

"You have performed Dark magic," said Dumbledore sternly. Harry looked up into his blazing eyes but did not feel the awe he used to feel earlier. He shook his head ruefully.

"It was only a dream," he said sadly, "though I wish I could punish them in some way..."

Dumbledore caught his shoulders and shook him roughly.

"It was not a dream, Harry. I can feel traces of Dark magic in you. And you were not here when I arrived. What have you done, boy?" he asked sharply.

Harry stared at his Headmaster. Had it not been a dream? Had he really gone off and tortured Bellatrix Lestrange and Kreacher? But it was not possible; he had been right here, in Privet Drive...thinking about Sirius. Dumbledore must be mistaken. Unless...

Slowly, he narrated everything to him.

"I don't understand, Professor. How did I manage to get out of here?"

"I believe you Apparated."

"But I don't know how to!"

"You must have done it accidentally...your wand less magic is quite strong..."

Dumbledore stared at him with a mixture of anger and pride. Anger took over.

"You performed an Unforgivable. More than once," his voice was accusing. He seemed disgusted with his favourite student.

Harry somehow could not bring himself to care much. He just shrugged.

"They deserved it," he said simply.

"Harry, this is what separates us from them! We do not do things like that!"

"You do not do things like that, may be, Professor. I never said I didn't."

"You are on the Light side, too, Harry!"

"Am I? If being on the Light side means sitting around waiting for the Ministry to get us all killed, I'd rather be on the Dark side. And anyway, all of you are waiting for me to kill Voldemort. Do you think I can kill him using Wingardium Leviosa? I will have to use Dark magic for that, and if I don't learn it for the sake of morals, I'd be victimising myself deliberately...throwing away all my defences...I might as well go to Voldemort and invite him to kill me!"

Dumbledore gaped at his Golden Gryffindor Boy in utter shock. Since when had his Harry become so bitter? Harry had always been an angelic boy...had his Godfather's death affected him so much? Had that bereavement completely altered his personality? Was it possible? Dumbledore could feel the power of this young boy, waiting to be released. If Harry became the next Dark Lord, the world was doomed. He was far more dangerous than Voldemort could ever be...Harry's bemused voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I don't think I'll be the next Dark Lord, sir...not yet."

"How...?"

"I've been practising, sir."

"I see."

Dumbledore suddenly looked very old and frail and tired. He also looked very sad.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked again.

"To see you, of course," said Dumbledore, looking surprised that Harry would ask such a question.

"How come you remembered me so suddenly? You never cared before!" shot Harry.

Dumbledore buried his face in his hands. It made Harry feel a bit guilty.

"Sorry, sir," he muttered, "I am not in a very good mood right now."

"It's all right, Harry...I should not have done many of the things I have done...I came to see how you were coping up for myself...and to apologise to you all over again..."

Harry looked at the old wizard carefully. He looked pale and ill. There was an unhealthy look about him...there were dark bags under his eyes, as if he had not slept properly since a long, long time...his eyes had lost their benevolent twinkle...

Harry was suddenly worried about his old Headmaster. He wasn't exactly pleased with the old man right now; nevertheless, he still had love and respect for him. And he was the only one Voldemort had ever feared...they couldn't afford to lose him. If Voldemort managed to kill Harry (which was quite likely, given that Harry hardly knew anything compared to Voldemort) - the magical community would need Dumbledore. They would be lost without him.

"Are you all right, sir?" Harry asked gently. Dumbledore looked up at him and nodded slowly.

"Shall I fetch you a Mars Bar? You do have a very prominent sweet tooth," Harry suggested, hoping fervently to elicit a patented chuckle from the Headmaster. Dumbledore gave him a weak smile and nodded slightly.

As Harry crept downstairs to get some chocolate, his anxiety grew. Why was Dumbledore behaving like this? Dumbledore, who had always been a pillar of strength for all of them - how could he be so weak all of a sudden? He looked worried to death...as if something was eating him up from inside...Harry wondered what was wrong...had Voldemort done something terrible? A sudden fear gripped him. Had Voldemort harmed his friends? Had Ron and Hermione been killed? Had Hagrid been killed? Had Remus been hurt? Had any of the Weasleys been slain?

He grabbed a few Mars Bars and hurried upstairs. He found Dumbledore sitting exactly as he had left him. He held out the chocolates gently. Dumbledore took one and bit into it after opening the wrapper. Harry sunk his teeth into another one. They munched on for a few silent moments.

"Is something wrong? Has he done something?" Harry asked finally, not able to control himself any longer.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"I just wanted to see you..."

"Are you sure you are all right, sir?"

"I'm sorry for all that you have suffered because of me, Harry...please forgive me..."

Harry peered at him solicitously. Had the old wizard finally gone senile? That would be an unmitigated disaster.

"You did it for the best, sir. You didn't know what would happen."

"I should have known. Minerva told me not to leave you here...she said that the Dursleys were the worst set of Muggles she'd ever seen...I should have listened to her..."

"It is all right, sir. I don't blame you - not anymore," said Harry quietly, and meant every word of it. He felt the irony of the situation very sharply. Here was the most powerful wizard on earth - sitting in his Muggle bedroom, apologising to a nearly sixteen-year-old boy...and he, Harry, was consoling him...trying to comfort him...he wondered what the Daily Prophet would say to that...what would Fudge say? What would Ron and Hermione say? He still hadn't told them all about the prophecy...he wondered if he ever would. He could imagine Ron's gaping mouth and Hermione's anxious face when he told them...Ron might even ditch him...Hermione wouldn't; she would cry with him, then cry for him and then launch herself forcefully into learning all powerful curses and making him do the same...

The look of hope on Dumbledore's face was so painful that it was all Harry could do not to hug the old man.

"Do you forgive me, Harry?" he asked piteously.

Harry nodded, throat too tight to speak. Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh.

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry sat down next to him gingerly.

"I have no doubt that you had my best intentions at heart. I can't blame you for that. I know that you care for me...I can appreciate the things you have done for me...and I respect you too. I care for you, too - though not as much as I cared for Sirius...I don't think I can ever love anyone as a parent anymore..."

Dumbledore nodded sadly.

"How has your summer been? Have they treated you well? I asked some of the Order members to take care of the Muggles at King's Cross..."

"You asked them to?" Harry was surprised. Dumbledore nodded.

"Why didn't you come yourself?" Harry blurted out without thinking. He didn't care for anything anymore - he didn't care if he hurt the old wizard - he could only think of what it would have meant to him to have seen Dumbledore there at the station...standing on his side...

Dumbledore hung his head.

"I thought you would not want to see me again so soon..."

"And yet you came here after barely a week had passed? You contradict yourself, sir."

"I could not stay away any longer from you. I had to see for myself that you were all right...that your family was treating you well...that you were not drowning yourself in misery..."

"That your weapon was kept well oiled and shining?" completed Harry frostily.

Dumbledore looked as though he might start crying. He shook his head and said heavily, "You are not a weapon, Harry...you are a person I care for very much...not because you are the Boy-Who-Lived, not because you have defeated Voldemort...but because you are a unique and a noble person. It tears me apart to see you burdened with such miseries...such tasks which should not be given to anyone...believe me, if I could, I would take them all away...but alas...I cannot do that..."

Harry didn't know what to say. He looked away, staring out of the window - trying to keep himself from crying. So, Dumbledore really cared? The thought pleased him more than he would ever care to acknowledge...he glanced at the old wizard next to him and this time, he could not resist hugging the forlorn looking man. As he threw his arms around his Headmaster, he was acutely aware of how thin his shoulders were, and how frail he was.

"Thank you, Harry," he said quietly, hugging him back. Harry wondered what everyone would say if they learnt that he had hugged Dumbledore...Ron's eyes would nearly pop out of his head...Hermione would look proud and say, "You did the right thing, Harry..."

"Are you all right, sir? You look a bit unwell," he said softly, when he finally let go.

Dumbledore waved away the question.

"Harry," he said urgently, "you must never, ever repeat what happened today...promise me that you will not use an Unforgivable unless it is absolutely necessary..."

"I'll try."

"Promise me, Harry," said Dumbledore desperately, "promise this much to a dying man who loves you!"

Harry nearly fainted in shock. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open.

"You're - you're dying? You can't!" he cried.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"I'm a very old man, Harry," he said quietly.

"There are a lot of older people who are perfectly fine...Professor Tofty is a lot older than you! He tested you in your N.E.W.T.s! You can't die! We need you! I need you!"

For a moment, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and corners of his mouth twitched. Then he grew serious again.

"It is true, Harry. I won't live much longer..."

"How long do you have?"

"A year - two at the most," said Dumbledore simply.

Harry gasped. How could this be happening? It wasn't right!

"First Sirius, then you! Am I ever to have anyone who cares for me alive?" he asked bitterly.

Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked Dumbledore. The old wizard sighed again.

"Too much exposure to Dark magic. I have done only one Dark spell in my life, Harry - the Killing curse that I used on Grindelwald...I don't think I ever recovered from it...I am a purely Light wizard...Dark magic seeps into my blood making it poisonous...I daresay I have nearly reached my saturation point."

"Is there a cure?"

"Yes and no."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's not important, Harry."

"Of course it is. You can't die right now!"

Dumbledore sighed. Harry's famous temper reared its head.

"You're keeping secrets from me again! Haven't you learnt your lesson yet?"

Dumbledore looked straight into Harry's eyes. The guilt and pain in those powerful blue eyes were immense.

"I will tell you only if you promise not to go looking for it."

"I promise," said Harry, crossing his fingers neatly behind him. Dumbledore was too tired to notice.

"The Scimitar of Light."

"What is that?"

"It is an ever-glowing blade of light that cleanses one of Dark magic."

"Where is it found?"

"No one knows."

"Do you?"

"No."

"Can it kill Voldemort?"

"No. it can only weaken him. he is too powerful to die due to that."

"Isn't he purely Dark?"

"Yes, but he is also partly inhuman."

A sudden question flashed in Harry's mind. He himself had been subject to Dark magic a lot of times. Did it affect him, too? Would he die soon, too? He just hoped that he would live long enough to kill Voldemort. He didn't care much after that...

"No, Harry. Dark magic does not hurt you. You are a grey wizard. You have a mixed ancestry."

"I have a Dark wizard's blood? Whose?" Harry was shocked to the core. Had he, like Sirius, also descended from Dark wizards? But Sirius had said that his paternal grandparents had been nice...and his maternal grandparents were Muggles...

"The Potters were all Light wizards, Harry. Your maternal grandparents, on the other hand - they were not Muggles, Harry."

"What?"

"Your maternal grandparents were not Muggles. Your grand mother was a Squib...she was my niece...and your grandfather, Henry Evans, was actually Lord Henry Wagner..."

"Who is that?" Harry asked. The name didn't mean anything to him.

"Your great-grandfather was Lord Daniel Wagner, Harry."

"Is that name supposed to mean anything to me?"

Dumbledore nodded. Harry didn't like the direction this conversation was taking...

Dumbledore wrote out the name in the air, like Riddle had done in the Chamber of Secrets in Harry's Second year. Then he waved his wand and the letters arranged themselves into two words - "Aeron Grindelwald".

Harry was glad he was sitting. He was sure that his knees would have given way.

"I believe you have heard of Aeron Grindelwald?"

Harry nodded.

"I don't believe you."

"Neither did I. But my neice Dianne married a nice, respectable, apparently Muggle man called Henry Evans...we learnt later that he was Grindelwald's son..."

"Was he a wizard?"

"Yes. But he left the magical world after his father's death...he lived as a Muggle the rest of his life. He had, I believe, turned over a new leaf after he met Dianne..."

"Does Aunt Petunia know?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"They died in a supposed accident just after Lily's graduation...I personally think it was arranged conveniently by Voldemort...Henry had been a very powerful wizard like his father...when Tom had been an apprentice with Daniel, they had become very good friends...Tom was even made your mother's Godfather...they drifted apart after I killed Daniel...Henry cut himself off from the magical world totally...we were trying to get him back...he would have been invaluable to us...but Tom got to him before we did..."

"Grindelwald's son fathered a Muggle?"

Dumbledore nodded and said, "She's not really a Muggle...she's a Squib like her mother...that's why she is so bitter...that's why she hates magic so much..."

"It is unbelievable."

"I know."

"Why hasn't Voldemort used this against me yet? He knows, doesn't he?"

"I believe he doesn't remember himself...when Tom Riddle underwent the many transformations that made him Lord Voldemort, he lost a lot of his memories, too...I believe he remembers everything in terms of power...so he killed off a man whom he had once loved as a brother..."

"But he must have felt some part of it...is that why he never tried to recruit Mum and Dad? Some instinct kept him away...and he offered Mum a chance to live..."

"It is possible, yes."

"So, I'm not a good wizard, is that it? I may turn to the Dark side anytime...is that what you're afraid of?"

"No, Harry. You are a grey wizard...something that is very rare amongst wizards...it is a very valuable asset on your part...that is what makes you so powerful...no magic shall ever weaken you...on the contrary, it will serve to strengthen you..."

"What about Ron and Hermione?"

"They are both white, as far as I know...though Ms. Granger may have bits of grey..."

They sat in silence for some time. Harry was worried...he had actually performed the Cruciatus curse several times...he still didn't understand how he'd managed it, though...he had just learnt that Voldemort was his Great-godfather and Dumbledore, who was his Great-great Uncle, was dying...of course, he wouldn't let it come to that...he'd write to Hermione and they'd find out all about the Scimitar of Light...he wouldn't let Dumbledore die...Hermione would know - she would find a way...she had never failed him till date...

Thoughts of Hermione made Harry feel strangely warm. She had written to him a couple of times already - telling him that she would be there if he ever felt like talking...