The Locked Room - 3

"I'm confused, sir," Harry said, shaking his head. He didn't even know how he'd got here, never mind how he'd called Dumbledore. There had to be some kind of mistake.

"I am aware of that," Dumbledore said, smiling gently. "Let me offer as much in the way of an explanation as I can. Miss Granger may have more of the answers you seek. I have been watching over you for nearly a year now, and I cannot tell you how proud I am of your accomplishments."

"I killed him," Harry said flatly. Should he be proud of that fact? Harry really wasn't certain. It had only taken two words – Avada Kedavra– the very same two words that had once vastly altered the course of Harry's life. He'd never thought the day would come that he would be the one to say those words. It seemed fate loved to toy with him that way.

He swallowed, willing the numb feeling to return. Truth be told, he didn't feel like celebrating, or crying over his losses, or anything except indifference. He was hollow inside.

"Yes. You did what you had to do, and the Wizarding world and all of your friends will be the better for it," Dumbledore said gently, watching Harry with those all-knowing eyes.

"You've been watching me?" Harry asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I have. I have waited and delayed fully passing over, while I tried to guide you this past year. Now, it is finally my time to cross into the afterworld," Dumbledore replied, his eyes shining eagerly.

"You're leaving again?" Harry asked in a dull, flat tone. That cold dispassion had resettled, and Harry was glad for it if it meant that he didn't have to feel another loss.

Dumbledore gently rested his hand on Harry's forearm, squeezing it gently. "I departed your world a year ago, Harry. That hasn't changed. Most likely, I could have survived that potion. I may have even been able to thwart Professor Snape despite my surprise, but I would have been a frail, useless liability to you. It was better this way, and I have been able to be of greater service."

"Greater service?" Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Am I right in surmising that you knew after Miss Weasley tossed you the Snitch in the Death Room, and you had uttered the Killing Cursethat you had created your own Horcrux?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes piercing into Harry's.

"Yeah," Harry replied, shrugging. "I worked that part out myself."

"Miss Granger came to me several weeks ago with her idea, and I thought it quite splendid that she had worked out so much of the detail. I merely did a bit of tweaking, as I understood some of the Romanian text better than she. The Snitch, however, was my idea for the item to be used as your Horcrux. I told Miss Granger how to charm it to make it fly directly into the Veil. Rather brilliant, if I do say so myself," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"So, I've lost part of my soul? Is that why I feel so empty?" Harry asked, his throat feeling very tight.

"No," Dumbledore said quickly. "You've lost none of your own soul, Harry. When Miss Granger told you to focus on the love that you felt for others, it is because that great abundance of love that you hold within your heart shielded your soul from splitting. The piece of Voldemort's soul that was attached to your own like a malignant growth could not understand that great love. It was that piece that was split off while your own soul remained whole."