Chapter 675: Dumbledore
Harry bent down a bit and then straightened up, quickly heading towards the entrance of the Great Hall.
"Hey, Harry!" he heard someone call from behind. Harry turned around to see Neville, his face wearing a puzzled expression. He waved back at Neville and slipped into the entrance hall.
Dumbledore and his entourage were nowhere to be seen.
Harry speculated that they must have gone upstairs, perhaps to the Headmaster's office, but he thought he heard some commotion from outside. After a brief internal debate, he hurried to the platform outside the castle, straining his eyes into the distance. The sky was nearly completely dark, and he could barely make out two blurry figures.
One was Professor Flitwick, his height making him stand out, and the other... Harry thought it might be Professor Sprout. He squinted further into the distance, but there was no one else. It dawned on him that something wasn't right: Dumbledore's white beard would be quite distinguishable even in the darkness.
So they split up in the entrance hall? Did Dumbledore assign different tasks to the two professors?
Footsteps behind him grew closer, and Harry realized the prefects were organizing the younger students to return to their common rooms. Without hesitation, he strode quickly towards the direction of the Headmaster's office. It was eerily quiet around him, with only the heavy sound of his own footsteps echoing. He began to doubt if he had taken the right path, climbing two more flights of stairs until he heard faint voices above.
It was Dumbledore's voice!
Excitement surged within Harry, but his pace inevitably slowed. Finally, he reached the eighth floor, passed through a door, turned a corner, and quickened his steps. He knew he was about to encounter the stone gargoyle in the corridor, a path he was too familiar with, one he could navigate even with his eyes closed.And he happened to know the password.
Suddenly, a dark figure blocked his path, startling Harry, who almost slipped and fell flat on his face.
It was Snape.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" he asked coldly.
"I-I'm looking for—" Harry started, then paused, surprised. He glanced past Snape and saw the emptiness beyond.
Snape's expression stiffened.
"You're right, Potter," he said in a conciliatory tone, then his thin lips twisted into a mocking smile. "Important people are having a conversation inside, while unimportant people—such as myself—are tasked with intercepting equally unimportant fools who are unaware of their insignificance."
"Dumbledore sent me!" Harry said, annoyed.
"When was that?" Harry was speechless. Snape's tone grew more taunting. "I've been trailing right behind you, and I didn't hear Dumbledore speaking to any student... I suggest you return to the Great Hall immediately, while Madame Pomfrey is still there."
Harry stared at Snape, resentment brewing within him. He took a deep breath, drew his wand, undecided whether to cast the Patronus Charm to inform Dumbledore of his presence.
Snape's eyebrows twitched.
He thought Harry was about to attack him. Snape narrowed his eyes, wondering if Dumbledore had orchestrated this, to provoke Potter and disarm him. Should he resist?
But Harry had already pocketed his wand, abandoning the idea of using the Patronus to convey his message. He was certain he hadn't misread Dumbledore's hint, and last night Dumbledore explicitly mentioned resolving the soul fragment on him after dinner.
But since other professors were present, it indicated that the Headmaster indeed had other urgent matters to attend to.
There weren't many who knew about the Horcruxes.
"Where did Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick go?" Harry asked calmly, disregarding Snape's sarcasm. "I saw them leaving the entrance hall."
Snape looked at him silently for two seconds. Just when Harry thought he was still at a loss, Snape spoke:
"They went to meet someone at the school gates. Who? Oh, Potter, I suppose you're curious about that?" Snape continued, mocking. "You always have a strong curiosity about things that don't concern you... But, I can tell you, they were tasked with bringing the former Headmaster's brother. I guess it's for a farewell? You see, Dumbledore does have to meet someone, but it's not you."
Harry paid no mind to Snape's mockery as he stood there, frozen.
Of course... Dumbledore wasn't the Headmaster anymore; he had resigned. It was only now that Harry had the presence of mind to contemplate the impact of this news, a feeling of sadness churning in his stomach as he couldn't help but recall every moment he had spent with Dumbledore.
...
"I'm dying, McGonagall, Felix," Dumbledore said softly in his office.
Professor McGonagall was stunned.
Not just by the news itself, but as if a thrilling drama was reaching its climax, with all the suspense and clues coming together, about to be resolved, giving her a glimpse of understanding amidst the unexpected and overwhelming:
From Dumbledore's abnormal behavior throughout the school year (which she could somewhat accept), to his sudden resignation as headmaster this afternoon, and the odd attitude of Professor Bagshot since Dumbledore sent Pomona and Filius not long ago.
McGonagall could see Professor Bagshot was barely containing himself.
When only Dumbledore, Felix, and herself remained in the headmaster's office, Professor Bagshot finally couldn't hold back and loudly demanded to know what Dumbledore was up to. What followed was even more peculiar: Felix suddenly struck behind Professor Bagshot, knocking him out. Like it was planned, Dumbledore stepped forward, catching the unconscious Bagshot and staggered with him to the sofa.
Dumbledore stuffed "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" into Bagshot's robe pocket and placed a soft cushion under his neck, then, turning to the other two, uttered the words above.
McGonagall stared earnestly at Dumbledore's face.
If it were a prank, he'd usually relent by now, but Dumbledore was unabashedly meeting her gaze.
"Today isn't April Fool's, Dumbledore!" she exclaimed. "If you wanted to startle me, you've succeeded, you both have... Oh, Merlin..." She choked, tears welling in her eyes.
"Tell me, Albus, this isn't real," she said weakly.
Dumbledore repeated his earlier words in a faint but firm tone, "I'm sorry, Minerva, but I am indeed dying."
Tears streamed down her no longer youthful cheeks.
"But—you said—travel—" she grasped at the last straw.
"That was a lie," Dumbledore said calmly. "A ruse of my design. Pull yourself together, Minerva, you're a veteran of two wizarding wars. Look at Felix—"
"Don't drag me into this," Felix interjected stiffly.
Dumbledore shook his head slightly.
"Very well. Death is but another great adventure for the clear-minded. It's not death I fear, but those worth cherishing in this world... Hence, I've prepared this. Felix, could you do me a favor?"
Dumbledore politely asked, and Felix and McGonagall followed his gaze to two large boxes placed on the left side of the long table. Felix's lips moved but he remained silent. However, the two boxes levitated and landed in the space between the three.
"That's it," Dumbledore nodded approvingly, "These will assist you. I've categorized the letters meticulously, making them easy to discern. Just send a few letters in the days to come or casually mention my adventures during public gatherings. Oh, and..."
Dumbledore looked towards Felix with anticipation, "Your talent for impersonation might come in handy. You have experience portraying me."
Felix understood the implication of his words. Having once masqueraded as Dumbledore in Voldemort's memories, he did indeed have substantial experience.
McGonagall's body shook violently.
"Albus, you've kept us here for this? Sending letters after your death, pretending you're still alive in some corner of the world?" she exclaimed loudly, her face turning ashen.
Those deep blue eyes seemed infinitely compassionate and understanding.
"I know it's difficult, but trust me, I have my reasons. After tonight, you can inquire further with Felix, he'll provide you with more detailed information."
A commotion sounded from outside.
"I'm here! Albus, let's hear what you have to say!" Aberforth's shout echoed from afar.
"Enough, Minerva, pull yourself together!" Dumbledore said sternly. Then, looking at Fawkes, the phoenix perched on its roost, sickly and covered in a layer of black-red ash.
"Fawkes," he said softly.
The phoenix raised its head, looking at Dumbledore. "Take him to Minerva's office," Fawkes responded softly, spreading its wings and landing on the unconscious Grindelwald. In a flash of fire, the man and bird disappeared.
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